Chapter 2

2

2023 L ONDON

The sound of youthful voices drifted toward Janelle Spencer through her partially open office window. She swiveled her desk chair and looked outside. One floor below, in the park next to the Foundling Museum, six boys raced across the grass, passing and dribbling the football down the field. The tallest one kicked the ball into the goal and scored. His hands shot up in the air, and he danced across the field. His teammates ran toward him, hooting and slapping him on the back.

Memories of Marcus rushed in, and Janelle bit her lip. He loved football—coaching, playing, watching it on television. How many Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons had she spent cheering for him from the sidelines? But then she'd discovered he'd been involved with his old girlfriend the entire eight months she and Marcus had been dating.

How could she have been so blind? Why had she ignored the signs and forgiven him each time he went silent for a few days and then showed up with a bouquet of flowers and a litany of excuses? She should've known he was lying to her. Was she so desperate to be loved that she refused to see there was something terribly wrong with their relationship?

She'd blocked his calls and texts five months ago, but thoughts of him still stung. Pushing those painful memories away, she turned back to her desk. She needed to focus on her work and put Marcus and his deceitful ways behind her.

A knock sounded at her office door, and she called, "Come in."

Iris Williams, director of the museum's guest services, stepped into the office. "I finished the volunteer schedule for June. Amanda is still out. Would you like to look it over?"

Janelle glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly four. Amanda Preston, the museum's director, had taken one of their most generous donors to lunch. She should be back by now. Perhaps the lunch had turned into a longer meeting so Amanda could explain the museum's current financial struggles and encourage an extra donation to help them meet their budget.

A ripple of unease traveled through Janelle, but she shook it off. "Sure, I'll take a look."

"Thanks. I need to post this right away. The volunteers always want to switch days and juggle things around before it's official. I need to allow time for that." She passed the two printed pages to Janelle.

She'd just scanned the first few lines when her phone rang. She glanced at her cell screen. "Excuse me."

Iris nodded and turned toward the window.

Janelle tapped on her phone. "Hello?"

"Janelle? It's Amanda." Her words sounded rushed and intense.

Janelle glanced away from Iris. "I'm here. Is everything all right?"

Amanda huffed out a loud breath. "No, it's not. I'm on the way to the hospital. My water broke—I think the babies are coming!"

Janelle pulled in a sharp breath. She had to stay calm for Amanda's sake. "Is Wesley with you?"

"Yes, yes. He's here ... but it's too early." Her voice rose to a panicked pitch.

"Just try to stay calm. Wesley is there, and I'm sure the doctors will know what to do. You'll be in good hands."

"But the babies will be so small." Amanda's voice trembled. "Would you pray for us?"

Janelle's throat tightened. "Yes, of course. You can count on it." What a surprising change of heart. In the past, whenever Janelle mentioned anything about her faith or prayer, Amanda had turned the conversation in a different direction. But in a time of crisis, people often reached out to those who believed in prayer.

"Thank you," Amanda whispered. "I know I can count on you to handle everything at the museum."

Janelle swallowed hard. The early arrival of Amanda's twins meant she would have to step in as the museum's acting director. She and Amanda had started discussing what would be needed in that role, but there was still so much they hadn't covered. How could she ever fill Amanda's shoes?

In the background, she heard Wesley urging Amanda to end the call.

"We're at the hospital. I've got to go." The phone clicked off.

Questions rushed through Janelle's mind as she lowered the phone.

Iris's eyebrows lifted. "Is Amanda in labor?"

"It sounds like it." Janelle quickly recalled what she'd read about premature babies. Some as young as twenty-two weeks had survived. Amanda was well past that fearful line. But her due date was at least eight weeks away. Breathing or feeding issues were possible. The twins would most likely need to stay in the hospital for several weeks, and Amanda would want to be with them. She lifted a silent plea heavenward for Amanda, Wesley, and their soon-to-be-born twin girls.

Iris sent her a worried look. "Wow, that means you'll be stepping in for her."

Janelle nodded and lowered her gaze to the paper in her hand. Managing without Amanda would be a huge challenge, but she wasn't going to voice that thought. "The best way we can help Amanda is to keep the museum running as smoothly as possible while she's away."

Iris released a deep breath. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Thanks." Janelle flipped to the second page, and her stomach quivered. Amanda probably did more than proofread for Iris. The volunteer schedule should be based on the number of visitors expected and any tours or school groups coming through.

She looked up and held out the paper. "This looks fine, but have you checked the reservations?"

Iris sent her a questioning look. "That's how I make the schedule."

"Oh ... of course. That's good to know."

"Shall I go ahead and post this online, or should we wait for Amanda?"

Energy tingled along Janelle's nerves. The decision was up to her now. She would be in charge until Amanda returned. She rose from her chair. "Go ahead and post it. Let's allow Amanda to focus on her own needs and those of her babies."

Iris gave a brief nod and walked out of the office.

As she passed through the doorway, a man stepped out of her way, then back into view. He looked in at Janelle with a slight smile. "Hello, I'm Jonas Conrad. I'm looking for Amanda Preston."

"Amanda is ... not available. I'm Janelle Spencer. How can I help?"

He walked into the office. She noted he was at least six feet tall with reddish-brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. His steel-gray eyes reflected searching intensity as he glanced around the office and back at her. "I have a four o'clock appointment with Ms. Preston to discuss the fundraising film I'll be making for the Foundling Museum."

Janelle blinked. "A film?"

"Yes, Ms. Preston contacted me last week. We spoke twice on the phone, and she asked me to meet with her today. When will she be back?"

"I'm sorry. Amanda is going to be out of the office for some time. I'll be filling in for her while she's away."

He gave a brief nod. "Okay. I'd be glad to talk to you about it."

Janelle hesitated. "I'm afraid we'll have to postpone that discussion until she returns."

His eyebrows drew down in a V. "Ms. Preston said she needs the film by the first of September so she can show it at the annual fundraising gala."

Janelle's thoughts raced. The gala's venue had been reserved and the caterer selected, but Amanda had said nothing about the program or showing a fundraising film. "I'm sorry. She didn't mention it to me."

"Why don't I show you an example of my work?" He quickly unzipped his black rolling case and pulled out a laptop, then he placed it on the end of her desk and opened the computer. "I'm sure you'll see what a great impact a project like this could have for the museum."

He certainly seemed eager and confident. It would be rude to send him away without seeing his work. She came around the desk and joined him.

He tapped a few keys and opened a video. "We created this film for the British Wildlife Federation. It's been a very successful part of their latest fundraising campaign."

He clicked on the video, and beautiful scenes of rolling hills, pastures, and forests filled the screen, then the voice of the narrator told of the UK's endangered species in need of protection. Amazing images of animals, birds, and reptiles appeared as the narrator continued and made his plea to save those creatures for the benefit of future generations. The creative filming angles, close-ups of the animals, and smooth transitions, along with the narrator's words, were quite compelling.

He tapped the computer to stop the video, then focused on Janelle. "I know I can create a film that will honor the history of the Foundling Hospital and show the importance of supporting the continuing work of the museum."

Janelle bit her lip. As an independent charity, the museum relied on the generosity of individuals, trusts, foundations, and companies to keep their doors open. The need to raise funds put continual pressure on Amanda and all the staff. And the museum's budget had been particularly tight the last few years, especially since the pandemic, when they'd had to close their doors for months on end. Donations had dropped off, and they had not risen back to the pre-pandemic level.

"A fundraising film sounds like a good idea," Janelle continued, "but Amanda is going to be out of the office for some time. I'm not sure if we'll be able to move ahead with this project."

He fixed his intense gaze on her. "Ms. Preston accepted my quote. I cleared my schedule and turned down other work because of our verbal agreement. Our meeting today was to outline her goals so I could begin collecting the background material I need to write the script."

Janelle's eyebrows rose. "Oh ... she already agreed to the project?"

He glanced away and then back at her. "We didn't iron out all the details, but I was under the impression she wants me to start the project right away."

"I see." Janelle's gaze darted around the room as she debated her reply. He seemed sincere, and there was no reason to doubt he was truthful, but what if he'd misunderstood Amanda's level of commitment? What if Janelle gave him the go-ahead, and that wasn't what Amanda wanted?

"Don't worry. I won't get in your way. I just need a tour of the museum, access to historical records, and information about the museum's current goals and programs. That should be enough for me to work on a rough draft of the script to show Ms. Preston for her approval—or your approval, since you're taking over for her."

"I can't give you the final okay without talking to Amanda."

He frowned. "Can you phone her?"

"Not at the moment."

"I don't understand. Is she ill?"

"No." She glanced toward the hall and then back at him. "She's giving birth to twins, but they're not due for two months."

His eyes widened. "Oh, wow. I hope they'll be okay."

Concern tightened her shoulders. "So do I." She took a deep breath. "I understand you want to get started right away, but I'll have to confirm this with Amanda, and I might also need permission from the board."

He released a slow, deep breath. "I see. Then it seems we're at an impasse."

Janelle tipped her head, acknowledging the truth of his statement.

His eyes lit up. "But since I'm here, maybe you could give me a tour of the museum to get my creative juices flowing. Then I can get started on the script as soon as you hear back from Ms. Preston."

The man's optimism seemed to have no end. "All right. I can show you around."

"Thank you." He closed his laptop, slipped it into the case, and pulled a business card from his jacket pocket. "Here's my contact information. You can text or phone me anytime. When you speak to Ms. Preston, please tell her that if she wants the film ready for the gala in September, I need to get started right away."

Janelle looked up and met his gaze. "I'll do what I can."

Jonas clenched his jaw as he followed Janelle Spencer out of her office. He could not lose this job, especially not after the disastrous results of his last project. That would sink his fledgling film company and take him and his assistant, Howie, down with it.

Please, Lord. Help me pull this together.

He'd used every persuasive skill he possessed to convince Amanda Preston to hire him to make this film. Now it looked like he'd have to shift his focus and win over her replacement. He watched Janelle's long auburn hair swish across her back as she led the way down the hall. When they passed a window, fiery light shot through her swaying locks.

He swallowed and glanced away. He was single, and there was no reason he shouldn't admire a pretty woman, but he needed to stay focused.

Janelle glanced over her shoulder. "The Foundling Hospital's original name was The Hospital for the Education and Maintenance of Exposed and Deserted Young Children. When the Foundling Hospital first opened its doors to needy children in 1741, the word hospital referred to hospitality. We continue that work today in conjunction with Coram, our partner organization, by reaching out to children in care and to vulnerable families." She stopped beside a glass case on the wall to the right.

Light flooded the display of small objects inside. He squinted, uncertain of their significance.

"When the Foundling Hospital opened, the governors de cided a record should be kept of anything left with children by their mothers." She motioned toward the display case. "These tokens were given as identifiers, in the hope that if the mother's situation changed, she could return and reclaim her child. The tokens were a part of the official documents and could be easily recognized to prove the identity of an infant."

Jonas glanced at Janelle. "Each one seems different."

"Yes. There are a few coins that are alike, but most of the tokens are unique."

He stepped closer and scanned the metal tags, coins, locks, crosses, keys, necklaces, and other types of jewelry. There were a few objects that surprised him. One looked like a small ivory spyglass, and another was a metal tag with the word ALE painted on it. He chuckled and pointed to the tag. "That's a humorous one."

She cocked her eyebrow, making it obvious she took the subject seriously. "Not when you consider that was all the mother had to leave with her child."

He sobered and gave a brief nod. "I see what you mean."

"Literate parents would also leave notes, keeping a copy for themselves, but those who couldn't read or write often left an object they could accurately describe."

"Did many mothers return for their children?"

"Our records show approximately five hundred were reunited."

"Out of how many children?"

She hesitated. "More than twenty-five thousand children came through the Foundling Hospital between 1741 and 1955."

He made a mental note of the number. It was sobering to realize how many children never saw their mothers again. He glanced at the tokens once more and pointed to one in the second row that looked like a slim white fish. "What's the story there?"

"The bone fish is a gambling token. In Jane Austen's novels, she refers to a game called Speculation, which used cards and fish like that one. It was left in 1798 with a boy named John Cox. He was baptized and renamed Nathaniel Lane."

"Were all the children renamed?"

"Yes. Each infant was given a new name to protect the identities of their parents, then they were baptized and sent to the country to stay with a foster family. When they turned five, they returned to the hospital for schooling and training. They remained there until they were old enough to take on apprentice positions."

"At what age would they leave to be apprentices?"

"Some were as young as eight years old. Others stayed until they were fourteen or fifteen. The age of their leaving changed through the years."

Jonas frowned. "Even fifteen seems awfully young to go out to work."

"Working-class families often apprenticed their children at that age or younger. It was typical for the time." Janelle continued down the hall. "Let me show you the Committee Room."

Jonas followed her through the doorway into a large room, where several paintings in gilded frames hung on the wall. Most were of men wearing wigs and clothing that looked like it was from the 1700s. A heavy stone fireplace was centered on the wall to the right, and an impressive chandelier hung from the ceiling. "This room looks older than the rest of the building."

She nodded, looking pleased that he'd noticed the difference. "The original Foundling Hospital building was taken down in the 1960s, but they kept the paintings and furnishings and recreated several of the rooms here in the new museum building." She motioned to the table in the center. "The mothers came to this room to speak to the governors and request to leave their child." She gave him a few more details as he looked around the room, then took him out to the hallway.

He glanced up at the dark wooden staircase leading to the next floor. More paintings hung on the walls and landing.

She motioned toward the stairs. "This staircase is from the west wing of the original hospital building. But the spikes on the railing have been removed."

He shot her a surprised glance. "Spikes?"

"They were added to stop the boys from sliding down the banister after a child fell and died."

He grimaced. No doubt the boy had only been looking for a bit of fun. Had it happened because he hadn't been properly supervised? He quickly dismissed the thought. An accident like that could've happened anywhere, not just in an institution.

They climbed the stairs, past several more portraits and paintings of religious scenes. Janelle led him through another doorway. "This room is a replica of the original picture gallery."

He glanced around the room, which was filled with more paintings and decorative plasterwork. "I enjoy art as much as the next man, but it seems unusual that you have so many paintings here."

Janelle's eyes lit up. "These works of art are an important part of our history. The Foundling Hospital was not only a children's charity home, it was also the first public art gallery in London. Several artists were supporters of the Hospital." She swept her hand in a wide circle. "All of these paintings were donated by the artists, along with the beautiful plasterwork, sculptures, and furnishings you'll see around the museum."

"Hmmm ... very generous." That might be an angle he could follow for the film. He had read a few articles online to prepare for this meeting, but he needed to know more. "Is there a guidebook that explains the history of the Foundling Hospital and Museum?"

Janelle nodded. "I have several books in my office. You're welcome to look through those or borrow whatever you'd like."

His hopes rose. If she was willing to lend him some books, maybe that meant she was beginning to see the value of the project. "Thanks. That would helpful."

They took the stairs down to the lower level. "We offer educational programs for children, young adults, and families in these rooms, and we hold special events here. This floor also houses our temporary exhibits."

"Tell me about one of those exhibits."

"One I think was especially meaningful was titled Tiny Traces: African and Asian Children at the Foundling Hospital . It featured the artifacts and personal stories of more than a dozen children of African and Asian descent."

He nodded. "You've given me a lot of good information. Thank you. I appreciate your time."

She met his gaze. "I hope it was helpful."

"Very helpful. Seeing everything firsthand gives me ideas about where to start my work."

Her brow creased. "Like I said, I still need confirmation from Amanda, and perhaps the board."

"I understand."

"Let's go back to the office, and I'll show you those books."

They climbed the stairs and passed three women headed out the door. Janelle wished them a good evening, making clear they were staff members rather than visitors to the museum.

"What are the museum hours?"

"We're open ten to five, Tuesday through Sunday."

"You work six days a week?"

"I'm usually off Sunday and Monday, but with Amanda away, I may need to adjust my schedule."

They walked down the hall and back to her office. Janelle crossed to the bookshelves, pulled out three books, and handed them to him. "These two will tell you more about the history of the Foundling Hospital, and this one is a biography of Captain Thomas Coram. He worked for seventeen years to gather support and gain a royal charter to open the Foundling Hospital."

He smiled. "Sounds like interesting reading."

She offered a teasing grin. "It is. Captain Coram was a determined man who had a huge heart for children. He wouldn't give up until he gained the support needed."

"I admire a man with determination."

She nodded. "So do I."

He glanced at the book featuring Captain Coram's striking image. If he was going to make films that changed hearts and minds as well as see his company thrive, he would need to match Coram's determination. He just hoped it wouldn't take seventeen years to see his dreams become reality.