Epilogue
Sophia grabbed a stack of papers and her briefcase and left her office, almost running. She merged with the throng of students traveling between classes and descended the stairs until she shot out of the building into the upper quad. She looked up at the clock on the carillon tower and saw that she had one minute to be in class.
She hurried along, her thoughts on her lecture, the new-faculty orientation session later that afternoon, and the package of books she’d just received from Paul.
Her phone buzzed as she entered Dunphy Hall. With a free hand, she fished her phone out of her jacket pocket and saw there was a text from Reinhardt. She swiped open the lock screen and read the message.
CHECK IT OUT ☹.
There was a link to a Sotheby’s auction web page. Sophia tapped it with her thumb and brought up an image of the aquatic-man pot Paul had returned to Wïiatsiweap. She scrolled and read the text:
NATIVE AMERICAN POTTERY, POLYCHROME POTTERY BOWL, CIRCA 1520, WITH MONSTER AND WATER GLYPH, #642
NATIVE AMERICAN
PUEBLOAN POTTERY
CONDITION: EXCELLENT FOR AGE AND USE
DIMENSION: 9” × 9.5”
ORIGIN: NORTHERN ARIZONA, PRIVATE COLLECTION
She slumped against the wall and kicked it twice. She did not read any further. Students flowed around her. When the halls cleared, she closed her eyes and let her head drop.
“Dr. Shepard, are you okay?” a student asked.
Sophia opened her eyes. It was one of her students. “I’m okay, Terrah. I just got some stupid news.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Tell everyone I’ll be right there. If you could get the discussion going, people can start by sharing their reading responses.”
When the student left, Sophia’s phone buzzed again. It was a phone call from Paul. She answered.
“I just saw Reinhardt’s text. Are you okay?” he asked.
“Despondent.”
“I’m a total idiot—”
“I won’t argue with you about that.”
“What I mean is I could have saved you some grief if I told you the pot on that website is a fake,” Paul said.
“What?” Sophia pushed off the wall and started pacing. “How is that even—”
“When you told us about Frangos, it gave me an idea. Dreamweaver and I made—”
“Nope. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Do you want to know where I put the original?”
“Seriously, I’m late to class—”
“Sophia, I took it through the water to the other side.”
“Does Reinhardt know?”
“Of course he does. It was his idea. He started talking to me about the ultimate boon, being the master of two worlds, and all of that.”
“Of course he did,” Sophia said.
“I told him to keep his mouth shut,” Paul said. “Just remember, we stopped them. The monument is intact. Your testimony did it.”
“I’ve got class. I’m going to have to call you back,” Sophia said.
She hung up, took a deep breath, and walked into the classroom.
There was no discussion under way. Everyone was deep into their phones. “Okay, people,” she announced. “Put those things away. Let’s forget the syllabus today and go in an entirely different direction. I’d like to talk about the problem of authenticity.”