Page 79 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“Georgiana mentioned his letters. She described them as persistent. And you’re on his legal team?”

“Very junior-ly.” I could hear Moira’s voice in my head and amended, “But informed. I don’t want to overstate my role.”

Miriam studied me, and I got the feeling she liked that answer more than anything else I could have said.

“Why don’t you tell me what you can?”

I glanced at Rafe. I’d promised him eight minutes. I’d almost certainly used more than that. But he hadn’t interrupted. Trust, apparently, could look a lot like a dragon standing beside luxury dog portraits and pretending patience didn’t cost him anything.

“The sword belonged to his family. But it’s more than property to him. It’s history and memory. His great-grandparents fled Japan during the Winged War, and a lot of their relics scattered afterward. Some were traded for safe passage, some lost, some ended up in collections.”

The humor left Miriam’s face, but not the warmth. I chose my next words carefully.

“The public history matters. I know it does. I don’t think Rafe wants to erase that. But right now, the museum has the object, and his family has the absence.”

Miriam looked at the photo display.

I let the silence work. Every instinct in me wanted to keep talking, to solve the pause before it could become rejection. I’d built a life out of making myself useful in other people’s gaps, but sometimes staying quiet was best.

Finally, she said, “That’s a magnificent sentence.”

“I was hoping the truth would do most of the heavy lifting.”

“It usually does, when people let it.”

“Does Georgiana know the full history?”

“She knows the provenance and has studied the acquisition records. She knows all about board obligations and donor politics.” Miriam’s gaze sharpened. “Can he prove the family claim?”

“As far as I understand, yes. There are records, but I’m not the lead attorney, so I don’t want to misstate details.”

“Has he offered a long-term loan arrangement? A replica? Shared display rights?”

“I know he tried direct requests first, and I know he offered to purchase it. I don’t know every term that has been discussed, and I don’t want to invent an answer because it would be convenient.”

Miriam nodded slowly. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Good that you know what not to say.”

“Oh. Thank you. That’s one of my more marketable anxieties.”

Her smile returned as she caught sight of her wife across the room.

Dr. Georgiana Sorel stood near the entrance of the silent auction, silver hair glimmering beneath the chandelier light, her attention divided between three donors. She was an elegant, yet formidable woman, who likely believed strongly in order because order had mostly worked for her.

“Georgiana isn’t cruel,” Miriam said. “But she trusts institutions too much. She thinks if a process exists, and if good people are inside it, then the process must be fair. It’s one of her more exhausting virtues.” Miriam sighed. “She also hates being cornered. If she thinks Rafe is trying to pressure her publicly, she’ll become completely immovable.”

“Good to know.”

“No one says stolen in the first thirty seconds.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Rafe might.”

“Rafe might say appropriated.”