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“Of course, those aren’t the parents of her…oh for the love of god…look…come here…” He straightens himself. His lips purse as he throws his arm up, signaling me to follow. He disappears into the secondary chamber, which is much darker than the rest of the room. Blue lights from above cast a nearly ethereal glow as I follow him to a corner where a large terrarium sits. A beautiful yellow snake sits under the light, coiled and much bigger than I expected.

“I thought I bought a green tree python…why is he yellow?”

Lennox places his hand on my shoulder and chuffs a laugh.

“He’s a yearling. See how his head is mostly green? In a few months, he’ll be bright green like his mother over there.” He points to the opposite side of the terrarium.

A small divider separates the large and quite breathtakingly beautiful snake from her son. Since we were kids, Litza has been yearning for a snake just like this. Father, however, held firm to the no snakes in the house rule. She got so desperate she hid one in a shoebox under her bed. It was the one and only time I heard that man scream like a woman. My lips twitch up in a smile at the memory.

“She’s going to love him!” I turn to look at Lennox peering at me over the edge of his glasses. His smile peeks from under his stark white beard and wiry mustache.

“I can’t think of anyone else I would want raising him. Now, what are you doing here? I don’t remember making an appointment?” His brows knit, forcing the long hairs of his eyebrows to jut out like thin branches.

“You called the firm and said you had a new collection you needed us to appraise for you. I think the notes said you had vases?” Reaching into my bag, I grab the binder.

Lennox places his hand on my arm, patting to stop me.

“Oh yes. Yes. Yes. I have some new Florentine vases. I saw them at auction and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have them.” He bends his elbow and extends his arm to me—the ole pleasantries of a gentleman.

I slip my arm through his as he escorts me out of the serpentarium through the back entrance. The sun blinds me momentarily as we step into the garden.

“So, tell me. How did the auction go? It was held a few days ago, yes?”

I cast my eyes down to my feet, hiding my disappointment.

“I was outbid.”

A silence falls over the conversation as we wind around the garden following the path to the bungalow, which acts as his own showroom.

“I’m sorry…I know you wanted that manuscript badly. Who was it that outbid you?”

“Never seen him before.” Amidst my anger, I didn’t even try to get his name.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure between the two of us, we can find it again. I’ll even offer some of my own funds for the purchase to secure it for you.” He pats my hand and gives my arm a light squeeze.

“No. I couldn’t accept that. But I appreciate it anyway. I’ll find it again; it’s just frustrating. Ah, enough about me. Tell me more about the vases you got.”

His beard twitches in excitement at the mention of the vases.

Pushing open the doors to the bungalow, he leads me through the main room.

The small house is designed perfectly for displaying art with its indirect sunlight and floor-to-ceiling windows. White and gold display cases line the wall, and several others run the length of the room, creating aisles. The obsidian floor captures the reflection of the display cases, giving it the appearance of a smoky lake. Lennox walks over to a display case in the center of the room, where three vases sit, ready for assessment.

Setting my bag on the adjoining display case, I remove my binder and pull the information sheet sent over to the firm. The vases are purportedly from the fourteenth century, reflecting the maiolica period. Detailed indigo blue strokes, enhanced by the stark contrast to the white base, adorn the exterior of the vase. Slipping my gloves on, I lift one to inspect the glaze. My mind begins its practiced checklist as Lennox shuffles out of view.

Light accentuates indentations in the setting as I rotate the vase. Fairly common for the time it was purportedly made. Crude instruments used during this period often left indentations. However, these are perfectly spaced. Marking down my findings as a possible attempt to replicate indentations from the period, I continue to inspect the exterior. I would expect to see underfired pinholes in glazes, but these are perfectly smooth.

Two of the vases are flawless, but one has all the markers of being genuine. I continue to inspect the vases, making notes as I go. When I finally finish, the sun has set. Gathering my notes, I shove them into my bag.

Following the sounds of snoring, I find Lennox sprawled on a daybed. Plucking the book lying open across his chest, I set it on the coffee table. His glasses bend across the bridge of his nose, and I smile.

“Hey, Lennox…” I poke his arm gently with my finger.

His eyes open and blink a few times before they land on me. They blow wide for a split second before recognition takes hold.

“Oh, my dear, it’s only you…I forgot where I was for a minute.” He sits up in the chair and shakes off the drowsiness. “Did you finish the assessment?”

“I finished. But I did find some inconsistencies with two vases. Let me send them for analysis. They’ll perform a few non-invasive tests which will help me determine if the vases are genuine.”