Page 8 of Arrivals & Assets

“Of course they will.”

“So just you and Ellie?”

“I guess so. I’ve been told a tech team will be by early next week to grab all the equipment that isn’t nailed down, and then another moving team will come for things like the appraisal tables and stuff that they either deem valuable enough to ship… or items that are plastered with the company logo and will fill space in the truck. Then Ellie will be done, too.”

“What will you do after that?”

I shrugged. “Catch straggling clients who realize that they might actually have to present documentation while somebody’s still here? Sell whatever furniture’s left, and hand over the keys.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah…”

“Any job prospects?”

“Not yet, but I haven’t been shy about browsing on company time. There’s really not a lot I can do between clients.”

“Hope you find something soon.”

“Thanks.”

There was a beat of silence, then. “Come on.”

“Hmm?”

“Marcia can bitch about you being in the vault while the shippers are there if she wants. But I want to start showing you things now so that I can make sure to note anything that might be confusing.”

“Ummm… ok.”

I followed him downstairs to the first floor.

“Hey, Ellie,” I said to the receptionist as we exited the elevator. “I’m going to be in the vault with Jeremy. Call back there if anybody comes in.”

She laughed. “The only people I’ve had walk in the past few days are the mailman and lost tourists.”

“Sounds about right.” I sighed, and my eyes flicked to where the square logo for Carré Art Services still hung behind her on the brick wall.

“Have fun in the vault.”

“Sure,” I replied as I looked at her again.

I walked back, noting that Jeremy was already inside. I pulled my keycard from the retractable clip on my shirt.

My face from happier days mocked me as I held the card to the scanner. My light brown hair had been freshly cut then, and my smile showed how excited I’d been.

A new job in a new city. I’d hoped to find an alpha and start a family. Part of me had thought I was on the verge of having it all.

My eyes drifted to my reflection on the stainless steel door. Dark circles hung under my gray eyes, and my wool suit—which was formerly tailored—was shapeless over my already-slender frame.

It had only been two years, but the shine had worn off quickly. We’d all landed in Harris Cove expecting to be slammed with new clients. It was an up-and-coming art market and was known as a billionaire enclave. It seemed the perfect setup to poach clients from larger firms.

We had the vault so that billionaires could store their art, something our competitors didn’t offer. We had appraisers on site so that they didn’t have to ship recently acquired pieces or bring in somebody. Our rates were competitive…

The big move… turned into a big flop. Sure, there were a couple of high-value clients who took advantage of our storing their art when they weren’t vacationing. But there was always space in the vault, and the number of million-dollar paintings that came through the door were few and far between.

What business we did acquire didn’t need the eyes of trained appraisers. Millionaires buying a barely dry triptych in a local gallery only needed to present receipts—no provenance required.

The higher-ups in the corporate office initially tried to push back on insuring the gallery sales, but my direct boss convinced them that some business was better than none.