s up and down the letter. Then it dawned on me. If this is real, I could be rich. “Emily,” I managed to blurt through all my emotion, “Go put on your other outfit. We are going downtown.” On the walk to the museum, my mind raced with the possibilities. Please God, let this be real. Not surprisingly, I was still very much in shock as Emily and I walked into the Florida State Museum of Fine History and Art. I noticed a small, slightly chubby man with a goatee and glasses, huddled over a magnifying glass. We crossed the marble floor of the room, through the large columns that surrounded us on both sides. I tapped him softly on the shoulder.He looked up inquiringly. “Good day, Miss. Can I help you?” I couldn’t find any words. Silently, I handed him the dilapidated paper. At first, he looked amused. “Is this some kind of joke?” He retorted. Then he frowned and his face was consumed with concentration. “Where did you get this?” “On the beach, by Pier 14,” I stammered nervously. “It was in a bottle.” His eyebrows rose. “Do you have the bottle?” I handed it to him wordlessly, wondering why he wanted it. He turned and walked into another room. I tried to follow him in, but he waived me away, promising to come right back.When he returned, his face was lit with excitement. The wrinkled paper was now nicely set in a glass frame. “Do you realize what you found? It’s a genuine note! I can’t believe it! I carbon dated the paper and compared the handwriting with our samples. Columbus wrote this nearly 500 years ago! Do you know what this means?”I thought I did. I paused. “Is it worth anything?” I hoped that it was worth at least few thousand dollars. I bit my lower lip and prayed that it would at least pay for a warm meal for my daughter.He grinned. “Yeah, I would say so. At least $2...
