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"How much do you need to come up with in nine months?" she asks curiously.

"A quarter of a million."

She whistles, shaking her head.

"Okay," she says. "Show me what you've got."

I pull up the pictures on my phone and cast them to her screen with the school's networking software.

She looks at the folder labeledOpaand glances at me. "There are four hundred and fifty-three pictures here."

"Some are paintings and artwork. There are some sculptures, coins, gems, and a number of books that might be valuable. I took pictures of everything I thought might be valuable. It'seasier than having people ask questions and having to go back to take new photos."

"Fair point." She clicks through the first photos.

"I tried to keep things in order. Paintings together, sculptures, gems, coins. I went from room to room, so you'll find four or five groups of paintings."

She flips through the first fifty or so photos quickly.

"I don't know as much about the sculptures, but I can recommend someone at the auction house for you. Same with the coins." She stops on a bronze coin that looks ancient to my untrained eyes. "I collect coins, but I'm not an expert. Do you mind if I send this photo to my numismatist?"

"Please. You think it's valuable?"

She lifts a shoulder. "I couldn't say, to be honest. It's different from anything I've seen before. I should probably send you to him for all the coinage. I'll write down some contact info when we're done."

She continues flipping through the photos, occasionally pausing to take notes or send one off to a colleague.

She lingers for a long time on a painting in Opa's upstairs personal library—somewhere only a few privileged friends would have been allowed.

"Well, fuck me," she says under her breath.

"What?" I ask, leaning forward.

"What do you know about your grandfather's collection? Are most of the pieces authentic?"

I frown. "I'd assume so. From the little I know of him, he prided himself on investing in the future and having valuable things."

I exhale slowly. "That's my impression of him, anyway. I didn't know him. I didn't even know he was living in Delmont until he died earlier this month. His estate lawyer—the one I've been working with—seems to have a high opinion of him."

"Dr. Mueller—"

"Josie, please," I insist.

"Josie." She fidgets in her seat. "That lawyer gets paid based on how much your grandfather's estate is worth. I would recommend getting a second opinion."

"I have no idea what his estate is worth, and I'm not particularly opposed to her getting a chunk of it through legal fees."

That might be naive, but none of this was mine a month ago, and while the idea of having millions of dollars in the bank has its appeal—it's not real. At least not yet.

"I understand that." She sighs softly. "But if there's half the value I think there is in that penthouse of yours, you need to pick your friends carefully. I'm going to give you the name of one of the best lawyers at the auction house. They deal with situations like this all the time—high-value estates inherited by people with no real concept of what they've just received."

"She said that in addition to the penthouse and its contents, his assets are worth about a quarter billion."

She raises an eyebrow. "I've looked at a quarter of your photos, Josie. I haven't even seen the paintings—that's where my expertise is. I wouldn't be surprised if the valuables inside the property itself are worth at least four times that."

"You're talking about a billion dollars." I shake my head.

I can't even fathom that kind of money.