Page 31 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
WORTH ITS WEIGHT (CLEO)
We spend the next few hours combing the long list of vetted experts and art aficionados PopPop left behind.
The way Holden described it, I thought it’d be like a dozen people at most.
Instead, there are closer to ahundred.
All brilliant, world-renowned curators and collectors PopPop met during his travels at exhibitions, charity galas, museums. Dealers—so many dealers—and guys armed with degrees from top schools.
I think he had a system. This looks like it was scraped together from an old database or rolodex or something.
If he ever had a way to classify how useful these people are for my situation, it’s gone to the grave with him.
So here I am, sitting in his library, trying to hash it out while I fight melancholy memories from crowding in.
To my surprise, Holden has been decent since breakfast.
After he took off to shower and clean up, I know he’s in the house—he has thatpresencethat’s impossible to ignore. He’salready checked the basement and all the security systems at least twice today, I’m sure.
But instead of hovering around like a hawk, the way he did when I was a kid and he wouldn’t trust me for five minutes, he’s given me space.
Surprisingly considerate.
Or I wonder if he’s just accepted that we have boundaries now.
He offered to help, but he doesn’t have a grip on art or history like I do.
Once I’ve found the right team to vet the Hera Egg, that’s when I’ll need Holden’s brains and muscle. I’m sure he can run FBI-grade background checks and accompany me to meetings.
Anyone who tries to touch this thing with a giant standing over my shoulder must have a pain kink.
And thanks to Dad’s friends, it’s not like I was born yesterday. I’m confident I can sniff out anybody super shady.
Plus, the list is verified, vetted, all good people with institutional experience my grandfather trusted. Supposedly.
It’s just a matter of finding therightones.
Filtered or not, the art world is full of piranhas, and we have to be vigilant. A ton of awful grifters out to lie, whatever they need to do to make a (dis)honest buck.
The horror stories are rampant.
Dealers selling stolen artwork for a song.
Jaw-dropping forgeries that make the rounds.
Sometimes—like now, I hope—the real deal emerges, and everyone starts drooling. Collectors and historians want to get their paws on a priceless gem, and that’s when the greed kicks in.
Years of high-powered experience and three PhDs won’t override human nature.
Sometimes, rules get bent by smart, moral people. Laws get shredded and bribes get passed around like candy. And whenemotions take control, even the best intentions cause good people to get hurt.
Ugh.
I’m sure PopPop excluded obvious bad actors a long time ago, but I’m still leery. If they have loose tongues or seemtoointerested, that could be a red flag.
I hate my paranoia already, how the egg feels like a mummy’s curse more by the hour.
But I need someone I can absolutely trust to keep this quiet until I’ve made a final decision.
