Dream team

"Oh, and before I forgot, girlfriend," Rita said to me when we were finishing the last drops of our teas. "Do you still plan on keeping your shop open?"

"Of course! Is this even a question?"

"Right." Rita grinned. "Well, I have some good news for you. One of my friends from work caught a word that his uncle, an appraiser, recently got fired because of problems with drinking. I imagine if you can snatch him, he will be the cheapest appraiser you can hire. It's not like you actually need him to work, after all."

I crossed my hands on my chest and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, this is really unfair. I have way more than required three years of experience under Dad. So what if I don't have magister's? I can appraise things no worse than anyone else. No appraiser is infallible, it's all about reputation in these circles! It's just that I have none."

"Exactly, girlfriend. This is just unfair on us, especially when the stage belongs to cavemen who think that women belong to the kitchen. I will send you that guy's contacts, and just tell me if you need anything else."

"Thanks, Rita." I gave her a grateful smile. "It's real good to have friends in high places, isn't it?"

⠀⠀

In the next several days, I only ever saw JJ glued to the computer screen, reading Internet articles or perusing the vampire forum. There, our attempt to sell his coffin was still ongoing. Vampires were unsurprisingly slow to move with their buying requests—I was sure that when you are immortal, days blended together.

When he wasn't at the office, he wasn't in the shop at all, but that was mostly at night. He must have fed well on his excursions, because with each day his face became fuller and fuller. It was hard not to notice with how much JJ's face attracted my gaze. And he was smug about it, that fox.

But now I had nothing to do with him. In some way, it was easier to deal with the whole "vampires exist" thing when JJ didn't act vampire-like around me. Then I could pretend he was just another art piece and go on my business unperturbed.

First, I visited my grandparents. They were as devastated by my dad's death as I was, and in the times of grief, it was only right to stick together. I owed them a visit, though this time I had ulterior motives as well.

My grandparents lived in an apartment not far away from the store, one that was just big enough for the two of them and my grandma's studio. As always, as soon as I opened the door, a powerful smell of paint and glue mixed with the fragrance of cooking chicken hit my nose.

From there, it was the same routine as always. My grandpa, all smiles and shining baldness, ushered me to the kitchen, towards food. Soon enough my grandma joined him, still dressed in her work clothes smeared with paint.

"It's so good to see you again, Diana," my grandpa said. "Come, sit. The chicken is almost ready. Are you hungry? Do you want to have a sandwich while you wait?"

"How have you been doing these days?" my grandma asked as she sat on the opposite side of the table. "You look a little pale. Is the shop doing well?"

Good thing I had prepared for my grandpa's persistent desire to stuff me till I explode—I was starving right now. Only by not eating breakfast before coming could I survive this onslaught with no damage to my waistline.

I gave my grandparents a heavily redacted version of the recent events. I didn't tell a word about JJ—it sounded like something that was easier to explain with his help, or better, never explain at all.

I didn't think my grandparents needed to know about vampires. Or witches. Oh, witches… They had enough to think about without all that. I wasn't good enough in lying, though, to come up with a good backstory for JJ—but I was sure he was well-versed in that.

As for Avarice, in my story she was a nameless loan sharks' boss, one with whom we came to an agreement. That brought me to the reason I came there in the first place (besides visiting my relatives).

"Grandma, I know you are retired, but after Sasha left, I don't know I will be able to find another restorer soon. Can you… Can you, please, work for me for a month, until I find someone else? I will pay you, of course."

Grandma gave me a wide smile. "I'm surprised you only ask now, Diana! Of course I will be glad to help. It's not like my pension will pay for all my paints." She shook her head in dismay. "And I want to see my son's shop prosper as much as you do."

I smiled back at her, my eyes suddenly stinging with tears. "That's just great, Grandma."

My grandfather patted me on the shoulder and put a bag of candies in front of me. "Now, Diana, how about a dessert? Or are you too full already?"

I blinked the unshed tears away and pumped my fist in a challenge. "Bring it on, Grandpa! I will eat for three visits today!"

⠀⠀

My second visit was to the drunkard appraiser Rita told me about. His name was Kirill Tishaev, and from what Rita told me while I arranged a meeting with him, he got his drinking problem ever since his wife died four years ago. I could relate, though, not with the drinking. I was never fond of alcohol. Give me milkshakes any day instead.

At least he didn't ask to meet in a bar. Instead, he invited me to a cafe, one that didn't sell alcohol. I could appreciate that, even if I didn't like coffee either.

Kirill turned out to be a lanky man in his late forties—or at least looking to be in his late forties. He had wavy salt-and-pepper hair that was long enough to hide the tips of his ears, and a face with sorrow permanently etched in it with wrinkles. He looked like one of these breeds of dogs that seem to be permanently sad.

When I approached his table, he stood up to greet and help me take off my jacket, and then even pulled my chair as I went to sit in it. The amount of chivalry didn't fit with the image of a drunkard I painted in my head, but I did my best to be unprejudiced as I explained to Kirill my job offer.

After all, I only needed his license and his reputation (though I didn't tell Kirill that yet). The rest, if it was there, was just a pleasant bonus.

"I don't think I'm what you are looking for, Diana," he said to me in response, his face as sad as ever. "Tell my thanks to my nephew for trying to find a job for me, but I don't think it will work out."

I pursed my lips. "Why? You look perfectly fine in my eyes, Kirill. In fact, I can't imagine why your previous employer even fired you."

It didn't escape my notice how his hands shook when he wasn't holding anything. When Kirill caught my glance, he clasped them together and his eyebrows drooped until he looked so pitiful I wanted to pet him.

"I didn't drink anything today yet, Diana, but… I can't control my anger when I drink, and I can't control my drinking, and I tried everything. I was fired because in anger I insulted an important customer."

I pursed my lips. That sounded like trouble for a business, indeed. Though, another thought hit me… A very prospective idea. I leaned towards my future appraiser.

"Say, Kirill… Have you tried hypnosis?"