“Sold to the owner of paddle number eight-five. Thank you. We’ll take a short break. Refreshments are available in the back.”
The two women stopped in mid-speech, both heads swiveling from the front of the room where the auctioneer was walking out of his raised booth to turn and rest on him.
“Well, shit, that wasn’t fair,” Quincy said. “I wasn’t done bidding.”
“I assure you, he gave the usual going, going, gone spiel before the gavel fell,” Henry said.
“And you think I can believe you?”
“Every time, I don’t lie.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t hear him, did you, Abby?”
Abby shook her head but remained silent. Quincy didn’t follow suit. “If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t have bid against my poor niece. She’s not used to bidding.”
Henry shook his head, leaning forward to place a hand on the back of each of their chairs. “You could have fooled me the way she’s been waving that paddle around. And, young lady, I promise if I weren’t a gentleman, I’d take that paddle out of your hand and apply it to your backside. Cursing is not an attractive habit and lying is something that absolutely demands a proper price.” He watched as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped into a perfect little ‘O’.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Just consider yourself lucky that I am a gentleman and a man of my word. As I’ve already told you, I don’t take what’s not mine.” He rose to stand, not missing the fact that her eyes never left his. He felt two things simultaneously. The intense desire that he push that stupid rule aside and the sudden tightness in his jeans. Bending forward, he spoke in a low tone. “However, if I hear you curse or if you slap me again, you’ll discover that even I can be persuaded to bend my code.” Her mouth closed as she swallowed hard. Tipping his hat, he spoke again, “It’s been quite fun but if you little ladies will excuse me, I’ve got a unit to claim.” He had no idea why he’d basically given her yet another warning of what would happen if she were his. He’d probably never set eyes on her again. Grinning, he shrugged. He had just gone with his gut, something that hadn’t failed him yet.
“Are you okay?” Abby asked.
“What?”
Shaking her head, Abby grinned. “Never mind. That was the last item on our list. Let’s see if we can get some help loading, okay?”
Quincy nodded without really paying attention to a word her niece was saying. Her mind was still focused on the man’s words and the feelings they’d provoked. Looking at the paddle in her hand, she squirmed a bit on her seat. While it was definitely flimsy and not worthy of being added to her collection, it would still be capable of delivering at least a bit of a sting. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? Shoving the paddle at Abby, she turned to gather her notebook as well as her purse.
“The nerve! Why don’t we get out of here? There’s nothing left that we wanted anyway.”
“Um, good idea,” Abby agreed. They paid for their items, and Abby asked if a few of the workers could help load their van. That proved a bit more difficult than planned, as they’d been quite successful in their bidding. A bit of rearranging had to be done in order for the back doors to close.
“Face it, Aunt Quincy, your cowboy did us a favor…”
“First of all, he is not either my cowboy or my stranger. And I can’t believe you are taking his side against your own loved one,” Quincy retorted, her eyes flashing.
“Calm down before you explode,” Abby said. “I just meant that if we had won the bid, we’d definitely have had to get another van or arrange to have everything shipped. Another van would mean that we’d both have to drive back to Colorado which means we’d be alone in the vans and if we shipped that unit, any profit we would have seen would most likely be eaten up by freight costs.”
Quincy finally seemed to fully snap out of it. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’re right, and I would have hated driving alone. It’s just that I bet he won’t even care about the treasures hidden in those trunks we saw.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, let’s consider them either to be totally empty or full of boring, worthless junk,” Abby suggested.
After thinking about it, Quincy nodded. “I like that idea.” She laughed as she opened the passenger door. “In fact, let’s imagine they are full of something just horrific like maybe a couple of nice fat rats got trapped inside and managed to produce a few dozen babies before perishing.”
“Ew, that’s awful,” Abby said, climbing behind the wheel after thanking and tipping the workers. “I said boring, not gross.”
“Ah, you are too sweet, my dear. Damn, I’d be willing to pay to see the look on Mr. Cowboy’s face when he popped the lid to find nothing but little stinky rat skeletons.”
“Well, at least he was right about one thing. You sure have gotten into the habit of cursing. I never heard you curse when Uncle Joe was around.”
“Ha, that’s because he’d turn me upside down and blister my rear,” Quincy said. After a pause, she giggled. “I wonder if Cowboy meant what he said or if he was just blowing hot air up my skirt.” With a sigh, she opened her map. “Oh well, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. Let’s go home, shall we?”
Chapter 4
Quincy blew gently, causing the slightest ripple to form in her cup. Taking her first sip, she sighed appreciatively. There were few things on earth that could compare to the absolute nirvana of the first cup of coffee each morning. Taking another sip, she smiled. Another benefit of being in her own home, seated at her kitchen table was the fact that she could enjoy using one of the many lovely cups with their matching saucers. The delicate paper-thin china added elegance that thick restaurant style mugs just couldn’t provide. Bone china might be far more appealing, but there was a reason why matching sets were hard to come by. Even a gentle tap against the side of the sink when being washed could chip a rim at the least or shatter the thin porcelain at worse. She’d been thrilled to find several additional sets that would be added to both her own collection and the shelves and display cabinets in her store. Looking at the vintage plastic clock on the wall, the black cat’s eyes ticking back and forth, a long tail matching the movement, she noted the time. It was going to be another busy day but one she was anxious to get started. After all, they couldn’t begin to reap the profits of their increased inventory if the treasures remained in boxes in the van. Draining her cup, she rose and washed it carefully, placing it back on its saucer and returning them to the small display shelf. Quincy took a moment to decide if she should throw something into the crockpot for supper. Opening the refrigerator, she shook her head. She’d quite forgotten that she’d cleaned out its contents before leaving on the shopping trip. A trip into Denver to replenish her groceries would be necessary before the crockpot could be put into use. Flipping off the light, she left her apartment and descended the stairs into the store below. Before she could load up on groceries, she’d have to unload the van.
Harris had been standing outside when the van pulled in late the previous evening. His grin had been huge and the van had barely pulled to a stop before he had the door open and Abby in his arms. Quincy’s heart had filled at the unabashedly passionate display as he kissed her niece. Yup, that young man had missed Abby and it would surprise her to no end if the couple had even moved a foot out of their bed. Harris had made sure that Quincy knew she was cared for as well. She appreciated not only the fact that he’d been upstairs and turned on lights, ensuring she wouldn’t walk into a dark house, she’d found a vase full of flowers in the center of her kitchen table, a small notecard stating Welcome Home propped against it.
She’d promised Abby that she would wait to unload the van, but there was plenty of work to do until Abby came to work. It had been fun traveling to search for inventory, but it was good to be back. Opening her own business after Joe’s death had been a risk, but the fact that she could downsize to a smaller place as well as have something to fill her time, assured she’d never regr
et her decision. As she was flipping the closed sign to open, she watched a large moving van coming down the street. Smiling, she wondered who the newest residents might be. Corbin’s Bend was growing fast and it was always exciting to see new neighbors, especially if those same neighbors decided a few choice antiques would look just perfect in their new home. Grabbing the feather duster, she went to work.
Running the duster over the agglomeration of knick-knacks sitting on almost every flat surface, Quincy mentally started making decisions as to where their newest purchases would best be displayed. Perhaps she needed to have a sale to move a few more items to new homes. When she moved to flick the feathers over a coat rack on one of the walls, her movements caused a few of the items to sway from their hooks. Reaching out, she stilled one and then ran a finger down the length of a narrow leather paddle. Her cheeks flushed as an image of a certain cowboy rushed into her head. Glancing at the wide assortment of spanking implements hanging from hooks on the rack, she felt her stomach flip and her face heat.
“What on earth has gotten into you old woman?” she mumbled. “It’s not like you don’t see these every day.” Though there were hundreds of antique stores across the nation, she wondered how many, if any, offered quite the variety Auntie Q’s Antiques provided. She’d been buying spanking implements for years, tucking them into nooks and crannies to be discovered by the residents of Corbin’s Bend. What had started as something of a rather unique salute to her neighbors proclivities, had become almost a legend. It had surprised her a bit that the unusual wares had actually become best sellers and she’d had to restock on several occasions. It was always a rush to find a new one to add to her inventory. Luck had been with her when she and Abby had stopped at a huge garage sale the last day of their trip. Passing by the stadium’s parking lot where they’d seen rows upon rows of tables set up had not been an option despite the fact that the van was extremely loaded. The moment she found an old, broken wicker basket and opened the lid, she’d known she’d hit the jackpot. Several wooden objects were jumbled together but her experienced eye instantly knew that she’d found a spanko’s dream—or nightmare depending on which end of the paddle one might be on. She’d gotten the entire lot for twenty-five dollars and knew that once they had been separated, cleaned and oiled, she’d make a very good return on her investment. It hadn’t even mattered that she’d had to put the basket on the floor with her feet on top of it for the last two hundred miles of their journey.
Rehanging the paddle she’d taken from a hook, she turned at the tinkling of the bell that signaled the door had opened.
“Well, good morning. I didn’t expect to see you until much later.” She walked to the front to give her niece a hug.
Abby returned the hug. “I knew you’d be chomping at the bit to get the van unloaded. Harris dropped me off, but will be back. He thought a few items from Ange’s Angel Cakes might be needed to keep up our energy.”
“You’ve got a smart man,” Quincy said. “But honestly, I thought you two would spend the morning getting reacquainted. Not that I won’t appreciate one of Ange’s treats, but haven’t you heard that absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder?”
“Believe me, it did,” Abby agreed. Her smile lighting her face, she put the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. “Any fonder and I’d probably be unable to walk much less work.” Tucking her purse behind the counter, she continued. “Did you get a good night’s sleep? I know you’ve been running flat out for the past week.”
“I’m right as rain,” Quincy assured her. “I was just thinking we probably should have a sale to make room for the new inventory.”
Abby looked around the store. Though neat, it was looking a bit overcrowded. “That’s a great idea. Now, aren’t you glad we didn’t win that lot? Imagine if we had to find a place for all that stuff.”
Her words had Quincy thinking about her opponent. “We’d have found a place. I still have dreams about those trunks we saw.”
“Dreams about the contents or fantasies about the owner?” Abby teased. Quincy had repeatedly bemoaned the loss of the chance to open the trunks. “Besides, I thought we decided they were full of bugs.”
“Rats, my dear,” Quincy corrected as the bell tinkled again to signal the arrival of Harris who had a familiar bakery box in his hand. “Nothing but piles of skin and bones.” Both women laughed as Harris gave them a quizzical look.
“Can’t have my girls turning into bony women,” Harris said, putting the box on the counter and wrapping an arm around each of their waists. “A woman is far more attractive with a nice amount of padding.”
“What a lovely thought. Now if anyone questions the spread of my behind, I can state that a very intelligent man insists I eat Ange’s incredible cinnamon rolls to make da… darn sure my butt remains well padded,” Quincy quipped and gave a small yelp when he grinned and dropped his hands to give each of them a swat.
“Don’t sass me or you’ll be eating yogurt.”
“Fat chance,” Quincy quipped, deftly sliding out of his loose embrace and heading for the stairs. “Save me one of those rolls or you won’t be sharing my coffee. I’ll make a pot and bring it down.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harris said, giving her a small bow. “I’m yours to command, at least for a bit.”
With a smile and a roll of her eyes, Quincy returned to her apartment to brew a fresh pot of coffee. She might live alone ever since Abby had moved out, but it was heartwarming to know that there were people who really cared about her. As she climbed the stairs, she heard a distinct squeal and knew that Harris had just swatted a far firmer rear end. Was it wrong that just hearing that cute little squeal of protest had her grinning even when a face appeared in her mind yet again? “What is it going to take to forget about those blue eyes and that full head of salt and pepper hair?” Quincy mumbled as she ground the coffee beans. Too bad Vance had retired. Even though she’d never been one of his ‘clients’, it appeared she was reaching the point where she’d be willing to call for some much needed, um, assistance. It was a young girl’s giggle that escaped her mouth as she measured the coffee into the basket of the vintage Corning Ware percolator. “Let’s tell it like it is, Quincy Lauder. By assistance, you mean a good old-fashioned trip across a strong pair of knees.” Picking up the pot as she would fill it with water and plug it in downstairs, she corrected her statement. “Or better yet, across the nice lap of a certain cowboy. I mean, if we are beginning to sink into dementia, might as well go large.”
Henry pulled into his new driveway as the moving van parked against the curb. He was home, well, it would be home after the van was unloaded. Sliding his key into the lock, he pushed open the door. The smell of fresh paint lingered on the air. Dropping his hat onto the breakfast bar, he grinned. After spending several days traveling, as well as in the company of his daughter and her brood, getting to know his newest great-grandson, he had to admit the quiet of the house was welcome. He couldn’t wait to sit in his favorite recliner, his feet up, a nice cold beer in hand as he watched a game on the television he could already imagine hanging on the wall. The sound of a loud knock brought his attention back to the present.
“Are you ready to begin?” the truck driver asked, a clipboard in his hands.
“Absolutely,” Henry said, removing his jacket. “Let’s get started. We’ll have the van emptied in no time.” He ignored the man’s chuckle as they walked to the truck. True, it was rather large and extremely tightly packed, but, heck, it had been fun filling every last inch. “Let me move my truck as a lot of the boxes will have to be stored in the garage until I set up shop.” After moving his truck across the street, he rolled up his sleeves. Time to get to work.
He’d only made a half dozen trips into the house with various boxes before he heard a familiar voice.
“Don’t they have calendars in Oklahoma?” Jeffrey asked, his wide grin removing any sting of accusation. “We expected you last night.”
Hen
ry shook his friend’s hand and then the two embraced, slapping each other’s back. “Sorry, it took a little longer than planned. I hope my absence didn’t ruin any of Venia’s plans. I’d hate to start off on the wrong foot with your lady, but promise I’ll find a way to make it up to her.”
“Good to know as she has already made me swear you’d be at Jonathon’s and Benjamin’s cookout tonight.”
“I don’t know, we’ve just begun to unload and, as much as I hate to admit it, you were right. It seems I’ve hauled enough to fill two houses. It’s gonna take a while.”
“Nonsense,” Jeff said even as additional voices became audible as several men walked into the house, boxes in hand.
Henry realized that none of these were employees of the moving company. His eyes widened when a few women followed, smaller boxes and bags in their own hands.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say,” Henry said.
“Welcome to Corbin’s Bend,” Jeff said and waved his hand. “You’ll find that there is no hesitation in helping each other out. We’ll have the truck unloaded in no time. Come, let me introduce you to the most incredible woman in the world.”
As the two walked towards the kitchen where the women were busy arranging mugs, plates, napkins and a coffee pot on the counter, Henry found himself wishing that one of the many attractive women was named Quincy. Her face and her giggles had followed him across the states. He’d spent far too much time thinking of how he’d love to have been able to teach the feisty woman a thing or two. Tearing his thoughts away, he watched as Jeff pulled one of the women to his side, dropping a kiss on top of her head.
Corbin's Bend Homecoming Page 48
