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Katrina mentally gritted her teeth and forced herself to go on calmly. “I met Randall because he is an expert on art. He stopped me from buying a fake Hans Hofmann. That’s over a million dollars in savings, Erik.”
“Well, but still,” Erik said, but Katrina knew she’d scored a point with her penny-pinching brother.
“Remember what Dad used to say?” Tim said. “Don’t let prejudice and ignorance make business decisions for you.”
“Yes, that’s true, but I don’t think Father would have—”
“Randall knows what the job requires, and he can do it,” Katrina said. “He’s talked to Benjy’s assistant, Angela, and even looked over Benjy’s records—”
Erik interrupted, a shocked look on his face. “That was not an authorized—”
“Erik!” Tim said in an unexpectedly commanding voice. Erik looked at him with surprise. Tim locked eyes with him. “Ten days, Erik,” Tim said firmly. “We have ten days until the jewels arrive. And you know bloody well it will take twenty to get ready.” He spread his hands. “The man is good. I questioned him, and he knows his stuff. And he’s right here.” And then very softly, he added, “And like it or not—he is family now.”
For a moment Katrina thought that was exactly the wrong thing to say; Erik turned red, and his face seemed to swell up. But at last he gave a heavy sigh and flicked a glance to Katrina. He frowned. “Well . . . ,” he said.
* * *
—
The face-to-face meeting between Erik and Randall went a great deal more smoothly than Katrina had dared to hope. Erik had grudgingly allowed her to sit in on it if she promised not to butt in. For fifteen minutes so far, she’d been sitting on the edge of her chair, trying as hard as she could not to bite her fingernails and watching with increasing amazement as Randall overcame Erik’s objections. One at a time, with smooth and careful logic, he knocked down every doubt Erik expressed.
But even though Katrina could see that Erik was impressed, he had still not given his approval. She knew exactly what his last, unconquerable objection would be: money. Like so many people born into wealth, Erik was an inveterate cheapskate. And beyond that, he had a completely paranoid conviction that absolutely everyone who approached him, or anyone in the family, did so only to get at the family’s money. Katrina knew, therefore, that Erik was still more than half convinced that Randall was a gold-digging scalawag. But since she was forbidden to speak, she couldn’t coach Randall on the subject.
And to her great relief, she didn’t have to.
“Mr. Eberhardt,” Randall said, “I’m aware that many people will think I married your sister to get at her money. You may think so yourself.”
“Oh, well now, that’s—” Erik said.
Randall held up a hand. “Please,” he said. “You are head of the family and its financial watchdog. Protecting Katrina and her interests is vitally important—and I would be dismayed if that thought didn’t cross your mind.”
“Yes, of course,” Erik said, mollified. And Katrina had to smile, seeing Randall play her pompous brother so smoothly.
“So,” Randall went on, “let me first state positively that I have not taken one red cent from Katrina—”
“So she says,” Erik muttered.
“And I never will,” Randall said with a moral force that even Erik had to find convincing. “I would find it demeaning and unmanly.” He ran his hand over the top of his neatly shaved head, and his signet ring flashed in the light.
Erik blinked. “Your ring,” he said, somewhat hesitatingly.
Randall frowned. “Sorry, what—oh, my class ring?” He held up the hand with the ring on it. “I guess it’s kind of silly to wear it all the time,” he said, shrugging.
“You went to Choate?” Erik said.
“Yes,” Randall said.
Katrina could see that her brother was impressed, and for once she was grateful that he was such a snob.
“Well, well,” Erik said thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize you were—” And he waved a hand to finish the sentence—because, Katrina thought, it doesn’t sound good to come right out and say “upper class” or “one of us.”
“In any case,” Randall resumed. “I think my experience and knowledge speak for themselves, and I realize this museum is a different thing, I understand that.” Randall went on as if Erik hadn’t said anything. “But the basics remain the same, and I am quite familiar with what’s involved. Of course, as a matter of principle, I would never have tried to shove my way in the door here. That would be the kind of gauche, nouveau riche behavior I detest.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Erik murmured.
“I didn’t ask for this job. I’m not sure I really want it at all—but whatever anybody might think, I care deeply for Katrina,” he said. “And this museum is important to her—because it’s important to her family. YOUR family. And the museum—the family museum—Katrina’s family—faces a crisis that I can help solve.”
“That may be true, but—” Erik began.
