Dawn looked Decker up and down, her eyes completely ignoring Rina.

Max said, “Jill knows the inventory better than I do. She can help you find whatever you want.” He lifted up the countertop and came over to Decker and Rina. “Welcome to the gallery.” His eyes on Rina. “Maxwell Stewart.”

“Rina Decker.” She held out her hand. “We can wait until you’re done with your client.” Her lips formed a big smile. “We don’t mind browsing.”

“Speak for yourself, Lone Ranger,” Decker grumped.

“You could get into a lot of trouble here,” Max said.

“Thankfully I’m limited by my wallet.”

“Nonsense. We have something for everybody.”

“Let’s hear it for jewelry ecumenicalism,” Rina said. “Why don’t I have a look around while you two gentlemen talk? There’s a lot here to keep me occupied.”

“Enjoy yourself. But I feel compelled to tell you that our best pieces are downstairs.”

Decker said. “Is that where you’re hiding all those Tiffany lamps that I saw online.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Max said. “This is not a museum. Everything is for sale. That’s how I pay my mortgage. Would you like a tour?”

Decker looked at Rina who said, “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not that we can buy anything,” Decker said.

“Not right now but there’s always the lottery,” Rina said.

“Exactly.” Max was already headed down the stairs. “And when you do strike it rich, remember me with fondness.” He flicked on the lights and the modern world of technology suddenly gave way to an elegant life of yesteryear.

Dozens upon dozens of Tiffany lamps in all shapes, patterns, and sizes, some of them geometric in design but more of them highlighting nature. The shades included, but were not limited to, dragonflies, lilies, daffodils, poppies, peonies, dogwood, cherry blossoms, woodbine, lemon leaf, and the graceful blues and purples of the draping wisteria vine—one of the most desirable shades, Max explained. The swirling glass was infused with rich colors, fashioned with such precision that the final work had depth as well as sparkle. Each one was spectacular: as a gestalt, it was eye popping.

The lamps were set on tabletops designed by masters of art nouveau furniture: the free-flowing signature pieces of Louis Majorelle along with the precise inlay work of Émile Gallé. Cabinets and display cases contained Tiffany desk items in all kinds of patterns. Original Alphonse Mucha posters, featuring images of girls with swirling hair and free-flowing gowns, hung on the walls. Along with the artwork was a poster of a painting by Gustav Klimt—odd because it was mass produced.

Max said. “It’s one of my favorite works. If I can’t own the original . . .”