Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

4 Verification of antique

Noah awoke from the loud ring of his alarm. Its sound reverberated like ten church bells ringing all at the same time. Another day filled with exploring the possibilities the Magic Ball possesses.

He reached his hand to the mini cabinet beside his bed. Groaning, he swiped the off button on his phone’s screen. Noah yawned and pulled his blanket closer. He wanted nothing to wallow in the comfort of his bed, if possible. He didn’t do much last night, but his body felt extremely exhausted to the point that he immediately collapsed when he felt the softness of his pillow.

As he closed his eyes, the image of Ginger, Mik, and Cole crying out for breakfast lingered in his mind. He sat right up. He needs to feed the trio again. It’s like he unknowingly signed for a parental deal.

Scratching his tummy, Noah made his way to the living room. The paintings he discovered inside the iron cabinet are still lined carefully on the sofa. Noah didn’t know what to do about it, so he just left it there for the meantime. He thought of asking his co-workers tomorrow, but they would unquestionably pry about specific details he couldn’t share, such as how and where he got it.

Recovering paintings inside a Magic Ball? Not even the garbage man would believe such a thing. He spent the whole night scrolling and researching about the account books instead. It still didn’t make any sense what its contents were about. In the end, he left the paintings and account books untouched on the sofa.

 With his boxers and plain white shirt, Noah proceeded to fill the paper bowls with dog food. The Magic Ball lay atop his kitchen counter. He pushed his head first forward, his body following suit as he carried three paper bowls with him. He heard Mik’s ecstatic bark, and it was loud as ever.

“There, there. I know you’re hungry,” Noah said while placing the paper bowls in front of them. He sat cross-legged on the grass lawn in front of the wooden cabin. The puppies really look like they are starving. Running as if they hadn’t eaten in three days, Noah watched how his three puppies devoured every piece of dog food they find. Is it just his foggy mind in the morning, or does the three of them look like they are getting bigger and full? Noah scratched his head, thinking he might just be imagining things. He might need to even buy groceries for the three of them. Noah didn’t exactly know that it would be this expensive to own one, let alone a bunch of them. Like he said earlier, he’s now a father of three healthy puppies.

“Do puppies grow this fast?” he said while creasing his brows at them. Mik looked up from his food and barked at him as if he was answering ‘yes!’ to what Noah had asked. He thought this puppy always had the inkling of answering him with a bark whenever he asks questions out of the blue. Noah patted Miks's head when he buried his face on Noah’s legs. He needs to verify these things when they go visit the Veterinarian.

Going around the yard, Noah spotted the iron-cabinet he dreadfully dragged next to the fire. The paintings resurfaced on his mind again. Maybe he would take another good look at it and see if he can do something about it. He thought perhaps he would give one to his mother? Noah shook his head and proceeded to refill the puppies’ paper bowls just in case one or two of them gets hungry again.

Coming back from the farmyard, Noah went straight to where the painting was. He took the first one he saw and sat cross-legged on his carpet floor. Leaning it painting carefully on the sofa, Noah stared at it. He didn’t know much about what the painter wanted the viewers to know about his art, but the painting depicted images of seven women in silk, white robes taking a bath on what looked to be a lake filled with orange-colored fishes. Noah can’t precisely identify what type of fish they are. His eyes moved further down below a tree that obscured a signature that most probably faded through the years. If one doesn’t look closely at it, he or she wouldn’t even notice its existence. Beneath the signature was the name, Pierre Alessio. Noah quickly looked-up the name of the person he assumed was a painter. Several sites claimed that Pierre Alessio is a painter in the Renaissance Period dating back in the year 1495! Noah couldn’t tell that these paintings were atleast five hundred years old! He felt relieved and had the right call to not touch the paint’s texture.

Noah spotted names and signatures on the rest of the paintings. He searched for the painters’ names and found all of them on the internet. The paintings dated back as early as 1495, 1512, and 1589. Different artists painted each painting. Some were French and Italians. The frame of the paintings differed in height and width, as well as the images depicted in the canvas. Noah clicked an article that shows how you’re able to make money out of paintings. The directions to follow were all clearly stated in the said article. Money was a big deal, and even if he had a high paying job, if he can easily claim money from authenticating these medieval paintings, then Noah would most certainly do it.

The next day, Noah took some time off from the office. He proceeded to deliver the paintings in an Italian art gallery to see if he can find anyone—an official that has the power to confirm the painting and painters’ authenticity. He read in the article that the first step to making money out of it was to let someone authenticate the painting as an original. 

In a dull room with white walls, Noah sat quietly. Standing infront of him was an expert in the field of Renaissance Art. According to the receptionist he talked to earlier, she had been the most qualified personnel for authentications. Noah estimated the woman’s age to be that close to his mother’s. With gloved hands, the old woman tried to glide it along with the frame.

“Where on earth did you find this?” she questioned with a fixed gaze on the painting’s frame. She bent her body as her magnifying glass swept the images on the canvas.

“It seems that you have quite discovered something rare.”

Noah thought she was referring to the Magic Ball.

“Any documents to prove that the painter is called Pierre Alessio? Though I swear, I have heard of that man’s name before. This piece already has good provenance. With the artist’s name and signature written on this part,” she pointed below the tree, “as well as the year it was made.”

“What documents do I need for you to give me a Certificate of Authentication?”

“The paintings you brought have enough proof for authentication. If you perhaps found any document together with the painting, the work shall be finished in no time.”

The account books paved its way to Noah. “I found two account books with it. But I don’t understand its contents.” He rummaged through his bag and passed the account books to the old woman.

“Here, ma’am—” he stopped midway. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Bettina,” she answered while scanning the pages of the account book. She nodded when she stopped flipping and reading on a specific page.

“It’s an accounting journal that has ten pages. Names of previous owners are recorded here,” she hummed and said, “previous values of the paintings are also written in detail here. The paintings have been passed down to more than fifteen families. It had been sold to auctions and displayed to art galleries throughout history. No wonder the paintings have been preserved and well-kept all these years.” She gave Noah a smile. “We can proceed with the authentication this instant.”

“What does that mean?” Noah’s throat bobbed.

“The paintings are worth millions of dollars, Mr. Martin. You need to find an Art Appraisal Institution to get a hunch of its true value.” Bettina raised her eyes to Noah’s, “unfortunately, we don’t have that in Italy, and I’m not the professional you need to confirm with that issue.”

“Where can I find one?”

“There are various countries that can offer you their service when it comes to these matters. Among the top countries are the United States and the United Kingdom.”

Noah deliberated whether to book a flight when he gets home. The heat that ran through his chest was incomparable. His excitement grew when money got involved. He didn’t know whether to take it as good news. The paintings are worth a fortune than he expected it. At that time, the gods must have favored him ever since the peaceful picnic in the mountains.