22
Josie
The phone rings, and I pull the pillow over my head. The sun's not even up. Who would be calling so early?
Beside me, Florence groans. She reaches for the phone. "Ciao, bella." She yawns loudly. "It's early. You okay?"
I hear rapidfire Italian on the other end of the line as she relaxes against me. Nothing wrong, then.
"No, it's fine. It was just a late night. The charity dinner was last night." She reaches over and gives me a quick kiss. "My sister," she whispers before going back to her conversation in a hushed voice. "It's complicated," she says into the phone in Italian. "She's my girlfriend, but publicly she's my fiancée." She explains the situation with Woodhouse and the social media mess. "Yes, I like her a lot." My Italian may be rusty, but the time I spent in Venice my junior year in high school wasn't that long ago.
I pull away from her and get out of bed. I was in no shape to drive last night, and after I postponed class with Renna, I'd planned to sleep in the guest room. Until Florence begged, and I gave in to my insatiable need to trace my fingertips along her neckline, to taste her skin. I spent months after that night five years ago, thinking about her in that red dress, her luscious bare neck on display for everyone to see. Thinking about her—fantasizing about her—while I brought myself to climax, or while Ruby got me off. She was the reason I stopped fantasizing about Mel.
But Florence's feelings for me grow every time we see each other—I can see it in the way she looks at me. It's probably because she doesn't have any friends or anyone close to her—but it's not healthy to encourage that, especially since we're stuck together for the next year. I only agreed to sleep in her bed with her once we both had a T-shirt and shorts on—mine borrowed, obviously. She was grumpy about not getting me off, but I was sated enough by worshiping her body and feeling her come around my fingers.
"Come back to bed," she says quietly. "I'll be off the phone soon. Promise."
"I'm going to make some coffee." It's almost eight, and I need to get up and get moving anyway. A few hours with Renna in the lab, then we're going to lunch with Mel. It's been a week since I've seen her. Seeing Florence twice a week and dealing with the penthouse has me too busy. I miss her.
Florence comes up behind me a few minutes later, wrapping her arms around my waist. She rests her cheek against my back. "Sorry. That was my sister Catalina. She's in Italy—sometimes she forgets about the time difference."
I shrug out of her embrace. "It's fine. I needed to get up anyway."
She reaches up on her toes and kisses my temple. "Talk to me," she says quietly, letting go of me and leaning against the counter.
"Last night shouldn't have happened." Pouring a cup of coffee, I wonder if she drinks it. She must, right? Otherwise why would she have the machine? I offer her the cup and pour a second for myself.
She wraps her fingers around the mug, her eyes on the dark liquid. She bites her lip. "Why do you say that?"
"You don't get physical unless you're emotionally attached." I take a sip of my coffee. "I don't equate sex and emotions. Do the math." That might be too harsh. Harsh—but realistic. "We're becoming friends, Florence. I don't want to hurt you." My feelings for Mel would have been so much more devastating if she'd let me have her the way I wanted her for so long.
"I know," she murmurs gently. "I don't expect anything from you. I know how it is for you."
I shake my head. "Every second I touch you, every time I kiss you, will make it harder for you when this is over." I swallow. "Trust me."
"Let me enjoy it while it lasts. Maybe it doesn't have to end."
Putting my coffee down, I turn away from her. "I need to meet Renna for class, then we're meeting Mel for lunch."
The bank calls just as Renna and I finish up with labs. All the papers are in order, and I can open my grandfather's safe deposit box now. Renna and I postpone lunch for an hour, and I head to the bank downtown.
"I'll stay inside the vault with you, ma'am." The bank officer says as we exit the elevator on the basement floor. "It's standard procedure. You can stay as long as you need to. If there's anything you wish to remove, we have procedures to allow that."
"I'm looking for an inventory of appraisals—plus, I'm just curious as to what else is here."
"Of course ma'am," he says, unlocking the vault door.
The box is much bigger than I expect, a full five by ten inches and two feet long. We open it with both keys, and he pulls the box out. "We can take it to the private examination room next door." He gestures toward a glass door on my left leading to a small, secure room. I follow him into it. He places the box on the table and steps back with a polite nod.
Inside, I finally find an inventory of appraisals. Without knowing exactly what's in the penthouse or understanding details, it looks fairly extensive. There are nearly a thousand items on the list. I notice the gold coin Engelmann is worried about isn't on here. At the top, it states that it's a full inventory of all valuables in his possession worth more than $10,000, as of six months ago. I imagine he kept it updated as he sold or acquired things. There's insurance information for each item listed, as well. My eyes widen as I flip to the last page. Approximate value: one and a half billion dollars.
I let out a long breath. Holy shit. All the items are listed along with their current locations. Authentication records, including Provenance reports, Certificates of Authenticity, and individual Appraisal reports are in a safe hidden in the penthouse behind the painting of the Italian hills. I remember that painting. It felt out of place, a slice of ordinary surrounded by all things extraordinary. If someone wanted to steal something from the place, that would be the last thing taken.
Under the inventory list are three puzzling things. In the context of my grandfather's other valuables, these don't appear to hold much value. There's a set of engraved, carefully-wrapped silverware. There's also an heirloom gold ring and matching locket, both intricately carved with vines and flowers. The locket and the silverware are engraved with V&E 1943. The ring looks like a wedding ring. Vittorio ed Elena, 16.10.1943.
Buried under the set of silverware is a sealed envelope. Meine liebe Josephine is written on the front. My dear Josie. On the back is a short note. This envelope has been documented in bank records to be released to my granddaughter Josephine Mueller upon my death without stipulation, to be read in private.
I look up at the bank officer. "Am I allowed to take this with me?" I lay it on the table, the note of permission facing up.
He takes a step forward, glancing at it. "Yes, it's already documented as such. You'll need to sign some paperwork on your way out."
I glance across the table at Mel and Renna. Even postponing lunch for an hour, I still came rushing in five minutes late. "I'm almost afraid to open it," I tell them. After the way mom reacted when I showed her Grandpa's will, the mysterious stolen gold coin, and the strange items in the bank box, I really have no idea what to think.
"What are you afraid of finding?" Mel asks softly, placing her hand on mine. "You want us to come home with you after we eat? For moral support?"
I reluctantly pull my hand away. I can't deal with my feelings for her right now, not after gorging myself on Florence last night.
Renna suddenly laughs. "You got laid last night. Good for you!"
Mel glances from me to Renna and back again, her brow furrowing. "How do you—" She shakes her head with the hint of a smile. "No wonder you canceled on Renna this morning."
I groan loudly. "I postponed on her this morning because we were out late for the charity gala. I was too drunk to drive home safely. I planned to stay in the guestroom."
Mel grins. "Best made plans…" She winks at me. "So, was it as good as you imagined it would be?"
I scrunch my nose. "She's falling for me. I shouldn't have given in to it."
"That doesn't answer the question," Renna teases.
"Yes, it was nice. It's not going to happen again, though." I won't be responsible for hurting her. "As for coming over later, I think I'd rather read it alone, to be honest."
"Tilly's probably coming over after dinner," Renna says. "You could come, too."
"Or you could see what your fiancée is doing," Mel teases. "You could eat her for dinner."
I shake my head. "After last night, I'm not even sure if I could eat dinner over there again. Not at the table, anyway."
Renna snorts. "You couldn't even wait for the bedroom?"
"It wasn't supposed to happen. It shouldn't have."
"Why not?" she asks. "You're not seeing Ruby anymore, are you?"
Mel leans into Renna, putting a warning hand on her thigh. She used to do that to me. "Leave it, Serenity."
I wonder if I'll ever find a woman that I'm as comfortable with as I am with Mel. Years of being the one-and-only to someone. Tilly and Renna have it, too. I know they were 'orgasm partners' as Florence would say, but it's obvious their relationship isn't romantic. They're physical, like Mel and I are, but there's something different in the way that Renna and Mel look at each other that I've never experienced. It's the same way that Florence has started looking at me the last few times we've been together.
"Besides the letter," Mel says, pulling me out of my thoughts, "what else was in the bank box?"
"An inventory list of appraisals for all the things he owned worth more than ten grand. That doesn't include a gold coin that is probably worth at least twenty million." I sigh deeply. "Let's just say that I have no idea what I will ever do with that much money, assuming I get all this straightened out."
"Why wouldn't you get it all straightened out?" Renna leans her elbow on the table, chin resting in her hand.
"The first coin guy that looked at everything told me it's uncirculated and stolen property. He advised me to hide the piece and have another expert look at my collection. If he represents me, he has to report it to the Auction House Legal Department. If it becomes known before the estate is settled, the whole estate could be locked up in the courts for years."
"How can he be sure it's stolen?" Mel asks. "Even if it was, wouldn't a thief of that caliber create a fake document trail?"
"You'd think," I chuckle. "Because it was never circulated, it belongs to the government. I'll be happy to return it to them, but if I try to deal with that before the estate is settled, the Vanderveens could try to make a play. They're the ones who'd get everything if I don't come up with the judgment."
I see the wheels turning in Mel's head. "Did you ever find out more about the court case behind the judgment?"
"No," I admit. "Between seeing Florence twice a week, class Thursday nights, and trying to figure out how to come up with a quarter million dollars, it's not really a priority."
"Could you fight it in court?" Renna asks.
I shake my head. "I asked the lawyer about that. Most likely outcome is that I'd have to pay the value adjusted for inflation. It would be about triple then."
Renna winces. "Maybe Tilly would look into it for you," she muses, more to herself than to me. "She has more time on her hands. She and Minnie seem to be going their separate ways." For a few months, it looked like Mel's sister was interested in Tilly.
"Well, even without the coins, you should be able to come up with the money," Mel points out. "If the Auction House works with you with some of the art and the sculptures. If not, maybe you could ask your new girlfriend," she teases.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I glance down at it. Speak of the devil. "Hello?"
"Hey," Florence says softly. "What are you doing this afternoon?" She swallows audibly. "I don't want to leave things the way we left them this morning."
I close my eyes in frustration. "I'm at lunch with Mel. I'm going over there tonight after dinner."
"Can I have you for dinner?" she asks.
Renna makes a choking sound, trying not to laugh.
"I've got to deal with the penthouse stuff. I'll see you Friday after work, okay?"
"Can't I see you on Tuesday?"
"I'll see you Friday, Florence."