She nodded briskly and turned aside to find Mr. Browning salivating at the edge of the library. “Let me give you a tour.” Looping her elbow in his, she steered him into it before Eustace could change her mind.
“I’m so sorry about that,” she said to him. “My sister and I are taking this on together, and I didn’t have a chance to tell her you were coming.”
“Ah yes, well, family heirlooms are just that—afamilymatter,” he said as he pressed his nose from spine to spine. He picked up an old magnifying glass with a brass frame and mother-of-pearl handle. “You have quite the treasure trove, Ms. Bone, I must say.”
The knot in her chest slipped, loosening. If she could let him spirit just one or two things away that wouldn’t be missed, maybe that would fetch a sum to tide her over.
“It’s a time capsule,” he said with awe, eyes bouncing. “Extraordinary.”
Near the turret room, he wheezed at a clock encased in glass, its brass workings exposed like spilt innards, sunlight sparking off its cogs and coils.
“My, my,” he said, stricken. “May I?”
Cordelia shrugged.
He lifted it delicately. “What a prize,” he cooed. “A Victorian skeleton clock, and a James Condliff, no less!”
“Is that special?” She peered into it as if it might start spitting hundred-dollar bills.
He set it back down like a sacrament. “Mr. Condliff was the premier horologist of his day, out of Liverpool, and is known for these skeleton clocks. No two are alike. There are precious few in the world, and I’m afraid they are extraordinarily expensive. It is a fine point of pride for an auction house to feature one of these.”
The wordsfewandexpensivepricked at her ears. “You don’t say. What would you estimate it at?”
“Just off the top of my head, I’d say this is easily worth thirty thousand dollars, maybe as much as twice that, depending on key details.”
Sweat beaded across her lip. Thirty grand should get Busy and his fellows off her neighbor’s case. Sixty would clear her debt with them entirely. “What if I make you a little deal?”
He turned to her, twinkling. “Deal?”
“Suppose we let you take this clock today, put it in your auction. If we’re happy with the price, then perhaps we’ll sit down and discuss a larger contribution to Merrin’s. Would that be agreeable?” She watched his face light up.
“Oh, Ms. Bone! That would be most acceptable.” He reachedinto an interior pocket and filled out a Personal Property Agreement, handing it to her. She signed quickly, and he ripped his own copy off, handing the top one to her.
“Here,” she said, passing the outrageously expensive clock to him. “Take this and be on your way. Call me as soon as you have a winning bid, okay?” She herded him, clock in hand, toward the front doors.
“But I haven’t finished my tour,” he whined. “I can’t possibly give you a reasonable estimate without a full accounting—”
“Poppycock!” she insisted, pushing him toward the vestibule. “Consider this a little taste of what’s to come. We’ll be in touch.” And with that, she shoved him outside, patting his shoulder briskly and closing the door in his face.
Leaning a hand against the door, she sighed. Her immediate financial worries were over. What was one little clock? It was nearly impossible to read. Utterly impractical.
“Happy?” Her sister’s voice rang from behind.
Cordelia turned to see Eustace, arms folded stubbornly over her chest.
“What did you give him?”
“Nothing. At least nothing anyone will miss,” Cordelia told her. When Eustace’s worry lines deepened, she added, “Just a clock.”
“Will it be enough?” her sister asked.
Cordelia shrugged. “He seems to think so. Merrin’s is a reputable auction house. They can fetch as high a price as anyone.”
Eustace squared her shoulders. “Finally, some good news.”
Cordelia was just starting for the stairs when the door sounded again, brisk and urgent. She turned, opened it a crack, agitated. “Mr. Browning—”
But instead of the man in the neat suit, it was a woman in brown delivery-service garb. Beside her rested several boxes.
