“Did they change your medication?” Flick demanded, utterly confounded. “What are you talking about?”
“Why am I the one who’s confused? One minute you’re talking about selling the gun, then you want to sell the elephant, except that it’s not an elephant, it’s a hippopotamus. One has a long trunk and tusks—”
“I know what a damn elephant looks like!”
“There’s no need to shout,” Gina said primly.“And no, you cannot sell Hugo. He’s in one of the storage units.”
Flick rubbed her temples with her fingers. At this rate, she might have to break into the hospital’s drug room and self-medicate.
“I want to sell the Beretta rifle. It’s worth some money and it’ll tide you over for a little while,” she pushed the words out between clenched together teeth.
Gina looked interested. “How much?”
No way was she going to tell her aunt that Kai valued it at a hundred thousand. Then her aunt would want considerably more than that and she’d get stubborn and the bills would never get paid.
“Thirty thousand, maybe.” Devaluing it by a third seemed to be a sensible option. If she sold it for more, it would be a nice surprise.
Gina wrinkled her nose. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice. It’s not the amount I was hoping for, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. Roger would've scoffed at me making any money at all.”
What was she talking about? “What do you mean, Gina?” Gina turned away and Flick grabbed her arm and squeezed. “No, enough! Talk to me!”
Gina looked out of the window. “I suppose you deserve an explanation.”
“I do,” Flick replied, holding her breath. She sat down on the edge of the chair and crossed her legs.
“Roger really was the most infuriating man. And he never trusted my judgment. Every decision I made had to be run by him.”
Flick raised her eyebrows, not able to imagine her aunt being a subjugated wife.
“When we were newly married, we went to an estate sale and I begged him for money to buy a card table, labeled a Jon and Thomas Seymour. It was fifteen dollars, Felicity!”
“Okay. So what?”
“He refused. Said it was a waste of money, and that I didn’t know what I was talking about. Ten years later that eighteenth-century table sold for nearly six hundred thousand dollars!”
Holy moly. That was a hell of a return.
“Roger just said it was a fluke, that I wasn’t an antique's expert, that it was a random object, and that it could never be repeated. I disagreed with him, I knew then, as I know now, that I have the ability to spot a bargain, to find treasure.”
Kai had said something similar. Mmm. “When Roger died, I thought that I could use his money to show him—show myself—that it wasn’t a fluke. I was,am, still so angry that he left me, that he died, that we didn’t have time to resolve anything! I started thinking that if I could find that one object that was worth a bundle then it would prove…”
“Prove what?” Flick asked when Gina's words petered away.
Gina shook her head. “Prove that I was right. That I was smart about this. But I got caught up in the buying, was so damn scared of missing out that I kept buying and buying and…I got a bit carried away.”
Just a tad,Flick thought.
Gina raised her chin. “I suppose you think that Roger was right. That it’s all junk and that I’m a silly old woman.”
“Actually I don’t,” Flick folded her arms, organizing her thoughts. “The rifle proves you were onto something. Maybe there is something in there that might be worth massive money. It’s possible, but, more importantly, I think there are enough items for us to sell to get you out of this hole you’re in at the moment.” Flick pushed her hands into her hair. “It might be an idea to get someone into the house to do a valuation. There might be other items we could sell to raise some cash.”
“A valuer would talk.”
Back to the secrecy again. Lord give her strength. “Gina, you’re going to have to decide what is more important—the secrecy or you going bankrupt and losing everything. Think about that.” Flick stood up and rubbed the back of her neck. “What if we photographed the pieces, or at least cataloged them?”
“You could do that.” Gina nodded.
“Icannot do it! I have a job and a life,” Flick snapped. She tapped her fingernail against her bottom lip. “But I have someone in mind to do it for you. She’s a young girl, new to town, and she needs work. She’s bright and she likes to work alone. I’ll pay her out of the money I raise from the gun.”