According to her research, the record was worth either two hundred dollars or twenty-five cents, depending on how the tulip design looked. The trick was deciphering whether she had a gold mine tulip or a dud tulip. The slight acceleration of her heartbeat as she checked the details was saying gold mine. Her father hadn’t stopped pushing choice items from his record collection on her—even as he deplored her giving up her store and selling things on-line. Most days started out with his bemoaning the fact that she was in Austin at all. But she knew he wanted her here; anyway, it was a fait accompli now. They had informed Darla Swinton her services would not be needed. Grace was the live-in help. The record she was inspecting was one of Lou’s Telemann Viola Concertos. She wouldn’t have thought of selling it, but he actually had two copies because Sam had bought him a duplicate one year for Christmas. And she was beginning to think that Sam was a genius, because this one seemed to be an original stereo pressing, which could be worth quite a bit.
