Page 53 of Head Over Heels

"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 ofthe 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 withV&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 Josephineis written on the front.My dear Josie.On theback 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. "Ipostponedon 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."

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