“I found a letter from Karina Klein to a man I’ve established as a local leader of the resistance talking about my grandmother.”

“No!”

“Yes. My grandmother technically owned the land the mine was on, and I’m wondering if perhaps Karina approached her, asking if she would lend it out to the resistance.”

“Holy shit, Max!”

“I know. It’s why I’m at the palace. There are a few elderly people who used to work for my family who have retired to Witten. I’m going to see if they remember anything noteworthy about my grandmother in the war years.”

“Is this your grandmother who lived in your cottage?”

“Yes, and I must say it is rather buoying to learn that not all my family members are terrible.”

“You need to write a book!” He was being so typically blasé about this. “You need to write several books! Not only is this a great story, but it’s sort of sounding like there is more to the Karina Klein story than previously believed.”

“Yes, but all I have at this point is the letter from Karina referencing my grandmother—it talks about ‘asking her regarding the matter we spoke about,’ so it’s vague. I have no proof that Karina asked for the use of the mine, or that Oma agreed. But I take your point. Any revision to the biography of Karina will be major news, in Eldovia at least. But honestly I’d rather break the news with the museum itself than with a book—books are your department. We’re starting to interview exhibition designers. I was thinking it might be too early to do that, but apparently not. Museum exhibition design. Who even knew that was a thing? Some of them have amazing ideas for making the space not just a museum underground but a community resource aboveground—having an outdoor concert venue, for example.”

“That all sounds wonderful.” Damn, she was proud of him. “Hey, when I’m there for the wedding, could we go check it out? How far is it?”

“There’s nothing to see yet. We’re at least two years from opening.”

“Yeah, but the wedding is still nine months off. Anyway, I don’t care if there’s nothing to see. What if I want to see nothing and listen to you tell me stories about what happened there and nag you to write a book about it? What if I want to escape all the royal pomp? What if my jaded, shriveled soul can’t take all the gooey happily-ever-after junk?”

“Then your wish is my command.”

She smiled. “Max, it sort of sounds like you got yourself a job.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He cleared his throat. “I guess you’d better hurry up and get yourself a divorce, then, so I don’t trounce you on the resolution front.”

“I’m working on it. It can’t come soon enough.”