Patrice Langtrye watched with pride as the moving men unloaded the antique woman's bedroom secretary from the truck. This piece of furniture, at one time, had belonged to her great great great great grandmother. A smile touched her full lips as she studied the intricate designs on the wood. The desk had been passed down the family line for all those generations. She knew where she wanted it placed in her small home; when her mother had told her the story about how it had been passed down her great great great great grandmother's family line for all those generations, before her mother had decided that she would pass it to her.

Patrice was twenty-six and single, with no plans to be otherwise until she finished her master's degree and hopefully receive a full archaeological professorship at the college where she taught in Dallas. She considered herself to be a small woman, at only 5' 5" in height. Her weight was just slightly over one hundred twenty pounds, which for her height was very well proportioned. Her long, curly, uncontrollable, dark auburn hair was a beautiful contrast to her emerald green eyes that showed her Scot-Irish ancestry. Her skin was a creamy dark rose color that made the use of make-up almost unneeded. She took advantage of this fact and usual only wore eye make-up; and her lips were full with well-defined edges.

She intimidated almost all the men she had met since her arrival at her new job, and had found herself at twenty-six not really ready to commit to any long term relationship. She doubted that she would be married or really even consider marriage until she was in her thirties. She wanted children, but for the present, that part of her life could wait.

Patrice walked through the house, followed by the moving men. When they reached the bedroom, she told them to place the secretary in the wall space located between the two large windows just off the end of the bed. The piece of furniture blended well with the antique, four-poster bedroom set that had accompanied her through several of her moves. Once the moving men had left, she stood looking at the secretary desk.

Patrice was taking the summer off from college; taking the time to do her thesis for her degree on her family tree. She had to go back several generations which had prompted the trip to her family's home in Buffalo, New York, in search for the information. While she had been there, her mother decided it was time for her and her three brothers to have, what would eventually come to them from their parents.

It was then when her mother had explained how each of the male members of the Langtrye family inherited the desk from the previous generation, who then gave it to their wives for their personal use. Since Patrice's older brothers hadn't wanted the desk, it had been given to her with her father's approval.

Patrice walked over to the secretary running her hand over the carved fold-down wooden front panel. She frowned when she felt the gritty dirt beginning to collect. She had no doubts that the ornate carvings would need a thorough cleaning to bring back the beauty of the wood. Her brows rose in anticipation of the task, but she hesitated, took a slight frustrated breath knowing that she should go over the information concerning her family tree that her thesis required. A frown creased her brow and her desire to clean the desk outweighed her need to work on her thesis so she decided to clean the desk instead.

She didn't know if she had any wood cleaner left from her previous cleaning of the bedroom furniture, but when she entered the pantry of the laundry room she found more than enough of the cleaning compound along with some lemon oil. She collected all the cleaning supplies and a small step stool from the pantry. She stepped up on the stool and started the task of cleaning the wood from top to the bottom. As she finished with one side, she started on the other. Raising the cloth she noticed a piece of the carving on the top section was loose and needed to be repaired. She frowned with concern thinking it must have been damaged during the move from New York. When she touched the small carved bird, her eyes opened wide in shock as the carving fell forward. Her surprise turned to a pleased smile when she saw the small brass pull in front of a small drawer behind the carving.

Patrice's uncontrollable curiosity took hold. Was she the first to find the hidden drawer? Her mind played with all the questions that finding the hidden drawer had produced. With trembling fingers and even more anticipation she pulled the small drawer from its hiding place, not knowing but hoping to find some long lost family treasure from her family's past. As she descended the steps of the small step stool, she cradled the drawer carefully in the crook of her arm. She opened the front panels of the secretary desk laying the drawer on its surface; as she reached over and pulled the chair from the corner up to the desk and sat down.