Read The Last Little Blue Envelope for Free Online

from the hallway with a silver tray bearing a small china tea seat and two cups. Cecil poured a cup and offered it to Ginny. She shook her head tersely. Oliver took a cup, topped it heavily with cream, and relaxed in his chair like he owned the place. Cecil put a lump of brown sugar in his tea and stirred it slowly.
    “This is a bit unusual,” he said, “but the last collection also had a bit of an unusual story. The buyers may appreciate that. I certainly look forward to seeing it. Is there anything you can tell me?”
    “We’ll be splitting the proceeds of the last sale, fifty-fifty,” Oliver said.
    “This an agreement you’ve reached?” Cecil asked. “I have nothing to reflect this in my notes.”
    “That’s right,” she mumbled.
    Cecil paused for a moment, then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a notepad.
    “Of course,” he said. “We can arrange that. I’ll have legal draw something up and it will be ready for signature when you bring the piece in. Will that be acceptable?”
    “If it’s all the same . . .” Oliver reached into his leather bag once again, this time producing a few pieces of paper. “I’ve already had something drawn up. Very simple. We could just sign it now.”
    Cecil drew one of the papers closer to himself with just the tips of his fingers, then spun it around to read it.
    “It is, as you say, very simple,” he confirmed.
    “Just a moment.”
    Cecil took the contract and slipped around his desk and past Ginny’s chair. He was gone for over ten minutes, during which Oliver and Ginny ignored each other’s existence entirely. Oliver did something with his phone. Ginny shifted around, trying to turn away from him as much as she could in her chair. She read the spines of every catalog on the wall. She counted the spoons. Maybe Cecil would come back with the police. Or a gun. They had to have some old guns around here. Instead, he returned with some photocopies and a resigned expression.
    “This appears to be in order,” he said. “Basic, but acceptable. I have four copies here. If you’ll just sign them all where indicated . . .”
    Ginny scrawled her name as quickly as possible and pushed the papers away. Oliver wrote slowly, in small, steady script.
    “Well,” Cecil said, taking the copies, “as I work for the seller, I’ll abide by your wishes. I’ll arrange for the sale on that day and do what I can to get the previous buyers back in the room. You will have the piece on the first, yes?”
    “That’s right,” Oliver said.
    “Then I’ll arrange for one of our teams to come for it. First of the year . . . normally we wouldn’t do that, but we work with the circumstances. Unless there’s something else I can help you with?”
    “No,” Oliver said, standing. “We should be on our way.”
    “Then James will show you out. Thank you so much for coming in.”
    Outside, the sky was the same color as the sidewalk and the stone walls in front of the houses. Oliver strode away from Jerrlyn and Wise with a long, easy step, stopping in front of one of the many small mansions that lined the street and sitting down on the low wall that surrounded its front garden. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter from his pocket with a sweeping gesture that Ginny suspected had been rehearsed in front of a mirror. She stood directly in front of him and folded her arms.
    “I want my letter,” she said.
    “I can’t give that to you just yet. The letter is the key to getting the art. If I give you the letter, you can just go and get the art. Don’t worry, though. The letter is of no other value to me, so the minute we’re done, you’ll get it back.”
    “The minute we’re done with what, exactly? How is this supposed to work?”
    “We go to Paris. That’s where the first piece is.”
    “Paris?”
    “Nothing’s properly open on Christmas or Boxing Day, so we’ll start nice and early on the twenty-seventh. I got us two train tickets. Don’t worry—they were