Page 59 of Head Over Heels

I shake my head. "She told me the auction house won't work with her, which limits her options and causes a whole lot more work. They've essentially blacklisted her in the local numismatic community because some of the items are stolen."

"Do you have the money to help her, if it comes down to that?" Mel asks. "All of my money is tied up in the condo and paying off student loans."

"Mine is tied up in investments," Renna adds. "I might be able to pull money from it, but it would cost a ton."

Tilly sighs. "Residents don't make that much." Renna reaches over and squeezes her hand.

I bite my lip thoughtfully. "I have the money, but…" I clear my throat. "My lawyer cautioned me against any money exchanging hands. Legal issues." I raise an eyebrow at the three women around the table. I don't want to mention the contract in public.

Tilly perks up. "But you have it."

"I do. I'm not sure how that helps Josie, though—under the circumstances."

"Maybe you could buy something from the penthouse. Or maybe you know someone who would."

That's a thought. That would get around the legal aspect of money for sex, at least on a technicality. "My brother is a numismatist. He might be interested in some things, too." I wonder if Joe would take the risk if he knew the origin of some of Mr. Schneider's collection.

"First thing," Tilly breaks into my thoughts, "is to get those cameras out of your place, and out of the Mueller's house. Then we can consider what options we have for coming up with the money."

25

Josie

"Hey, Dad. Come on in." I pull him into a tight hug. "A bunch of my friends are here. I hope you don't mind."

Following me in, he glances around the open space. "I know Mel, of course."

"Mr. Mueller." She stands up from the couch, pulling him into a hug. "Nice to see you again. This is my fiancée, Serenity. Renna."

I see his brow furrow, and jump in to stop an unnecessary comment. "They're perfect for each other, Dad. I'm happy for them." I turn him toward Tilly and Florence. "Tilly. She's Renna's BFF. And this is Florence." I'm not sure how to introduce her, so I leave it at that.

"Florence is Josie's girlfriend," Tilly winks at my dad. "We're helping her deal with all this shit that her grandpa left for her. Did you know he was spying on her?"

Dad's mouth opens in surprise, and he looks at me. "What's she talking about,mieloji?"

I give Tilly a hard look before guiding my dad to the table. "Sit down, Dad. I'm going to fill you in on what we've found."

"Okay. I'm listening."

I hand him the three-page letter from the safe deposit box and disappear into the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee. I watch him from the kitchen. He's on his third read-through by the time I return with his mug.

"This is…" He trails off, at a loss for words.

"Scary? Stupid? Creepy? Fucked up?" Tilly supplies him.

He looks up at me in surprise. "Do you and your friends talk like that all the time?"

I roll my eyes in exasperation. "No. Sometimes, but not around our elders. Tilly's different." I don't really mind her crassness, but I wish she would filter it around my dad. "She's also right. Between the letter and some of the things at the penthouse, it is scary."

"And fucked up," she adds.

I study my dad. He seems disturbed by the letter, too. "Opa also had cameras in my house. He was spying on me, Dad. For many, many years."

"What do you mean?"

"Cameras, Dad. He was watching me—literally. He has a picture of me at my hooding ceremony. He was there, or at least someone was there in his stead. He has a shelf of all my favorite books next to the picture. About two dozen of them, including a new one from less than a month before he died. And he has a secret room with all my favorites going back to fucking kindergarten."The more I think about it, the more it freaks me out."He's been watching me, in some capacity, since mom cut him out of our lives."

"Bastard," he growls softly. He pushes his coffee away and gets up, reaching for me."My mieloji.Baby." His arms are around me, and for the first time in a week, I'm safe.

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