The Price of Inheritance by Karin Tanabe Read Free Book Online

“Christie’s is almost always first, but I’m still terrified. I actually dreamt last night that she had us do a Hashiyama.”
    I sucked in my breath and nodded understandingly. It was one of those stories that was legendary in the auction world. In 2005, Takashi Hashiyama, the president of a big Japanese company, couldn’t decide if he wanted to sell the company’s eight-figure art collection with the help of Sotheby’s or Christie’s. So instead of going with his gut or flipping a coin, he had the head of Christie’s Tokyo and the head of Sotheby’s Tokyo play rock, paper, scissors. Christie’s won and we suddenly all started practicing playground games in the office.
    â€œOf course, in this day and age, she’d probably make us play something more timely, like Angry Birds.” Nicole stared at me, checked her high score, and then we both laughed nervously.
    â€œOkay, so if she doesn’t make us have some sort of video game contest with Sotheby’s, we stick with our twelve percent buyer’s premium.”
    â€œYeah, we probably have to,” I said, making little check marks next to the proposal I had typed up on the plane. “And we waive seller’s commission and we give our guarantee, half of which can be paid out to her upon signing.”
    â€œThirty million.”
    â€œYes, thirty million. That’s high, but it’s doable.”
    â€œI’ve made a list of possible extras,” said Nicole, looking at her list. “Her oldest son, Gordon, he’s the one who spent a little time in rehab, he’s a huge Ravens fan. I can get him a meet-and-greet in the locker room.”
    â€œYou can? How?”
    â€œDon’t ask, but I can. As for Elizabeth, I can’t pinpoint anything she might want that she can’t already buy, so we’ll just feel it out.”
    I could see the words “American Ballet Theatre, Clydesdale horses, space aviation, and Duke of Gloucester” on her list but didn’t ask any questions.
    â€œI also looked and saw that Olivier Burnell was at the rostrum for every New York sale her husband attended in the past fifteen years. We can put it in her contract that he will conduct the auction and if he can’t, she can withdraw.”
    â€œOlivier has never missed an auction. Even that time when he sliced open his thumb with a steak knife . . .”
    â€œAnd just wore cashmere gloves,” Nicole said, finishing my sentence. “I know he never misses an auction, but she doesn’t. Let’s write it in. I think she’ll appreciate it.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, mentally preparing the baskets of Airborne and vitamin C that I was going to start bringing Olivier on a weekly basis.
    â€œLouise said she wants high estimates.”
    â€œThey all want high estimates,” I replied, rolling the corner of the piece of Christie’s embossed paper in front of me. “It can backfire, but sellers never seem to care.”
    â€œI know, I know, the reserve prices can go too high and then there’s the risk it won’t sell. But if we don’t go high, you know Sotheby’s will give her the high estimates she wants.”
    â€œYou’re right.” I sat on my hands so I would stop fidg­eting and looked at our papers—our talking points, the proposal, everything we had laid out before even seeing any of her collection in person. We typed up our final proposal, used the club’s business center to print it out, and paused in front of a wall-to-wall window overlooking a manicured lawn.
    â€œI feel ready,” said Nicole, standing up.
    â€œMe too,” I replied, placing the new contract in a leather Christie’s folder.
    Elizabeth’s house was roughly the size of Belgium and got bigger as we noticed a back wing and then a separate guesthouse. I pressed the button on the loudspeaker next to the gate of her ivory brick mansion, it