"Yeah, I heard him, but I don't believe it. Where did you get that statue, anyway?"
"I have no idea. Your grandpa must have picked it up somewhere," she said as they made their way across the arena. "This is exciting. I'm so glad you came with me."
"Just don't get your heart broken," he cautioned in the face of her growing enthusiasm. "It could still be worth nothing."
"Or maybe it's worth a million dollars. Maybe they'll want to put it in a museum."
"Well, it is ugly enough for a museum."
"We're ready for you, Mrs. Delaney," a smiling young woman said as she ushered them onto the set, which was cluttered with lights and cameras.
An older man of Asian descent greeted them. After inspecting the dragon, he told them the statue had probably been crafted during the Zhou dynasty. "A rare find," he added, launching into a detailed explanation of the materials used, including the jade that made up the eyes, and the twenty-four karat gold strip that encircled the dragon's neck.
Riley wondered if he could possibly be hearing the man correctly. It appeared that this very odd-looking dragon had some important place in Chinese history and quite possibly had belonged in the private collection of an emperor. The expert estimated that the dragon might be worth thousands of dollars, maybe hundreds of thousands.
When their segment ended and they were escorted off the set, they were immediately swamped by appraisers and other experts, who handed them business cards and shook their hands. Riley kept a tight grip on the dragon as well as his grandmother's arm. The dragon was like a prime steak tossed into a pack of hungry wolves. He'd never seen such covetous looks, such outright greed and hunger.
His grandmother wanted to stop and chat, but he forcibly propelled her through the crowd, not relaxing until they were in his car with the doors locked. He let out a breath. "That was insane. Those people are crazy."
"Just excited, I think," Nan said, looking at the statue in his hands. "Can you believe this thing is thousands of years old?"
For a brief second he almost could. There seemed to be an intense heat radiating from the dragon, burning his hands. Oh, hell, it was probably just his imagination. Whether it was a year old or several thousand years old, it was still just a piece of bronze, nothing to get worked up over. He set the statue on the console between them, more relieved than he cared to admit to have it out of his hands.
"And it was in our attic," Nan continued, a dreamy note in her voice. "Imagine that. It's like a fairy tale."
"Or a nightmare."
Nan ignored him as she flipped through the pile of business cards she'd received. "Oh, my goodness. The House of Hathaway. Look." She held up the simple, engraved card naming San Francisco's most famous and elegant store. "They want me to call as soon as possible. I have a very good feeling about this."
"Do you? Because I have a very bad feeling."
"You worry too much. Don't think about the problems -- think about the possibilities. This could be the beginning of something amazing."
* * *
"Is it possible that this dragon was actually crafted during the Zhou dynasty?" Paige Hathaway asked her father, David, as she froze the frame on the videotape one of their scouts had sent over from Antiques on the Road. If anyone could date the piece, it was her father, the head buyer for the House of Hathaway and their resident expert on Chinese art.
"It's possible," he said, a note of excitement in his voice and a glitter of anticipation in his eyes as he moved closer to the screen. "I wish I could see it better. That man keeps getting in my way. They really should make the object clearly visible to the camera."
The man her father was referring to was a tall, ruggedly built guy in a black leather jacket, who had started out looking uncomfortable in front of the camera and now appeared completely amazed and very, very skeptical. He was a striking contrast to the sweet, sparkling old lady he called Grandma, who seemed more than a little thrilled at the thought of her good fortune. And it might be incredibly good fortune if her father was right about the age of the object.
"Why hasn't she called us?" her father asked in irritation. "Are you sure you told her it was imperative we speak with her today?"
"On both messages that I left," Paige reassured him. "I'm sure she'll call back." Although, as Paige checked her watch, she realized it was almost six o'clock. "Maybe not until tomorrow."
"This can't wait until tomorrow. I must have that dragon."
David paced restlessly around Paige's fifth-floor office. The room was decorated with simple, beautiful Chinese furnishings that were meant to relax and inspire. The calming atmosphere was obviously having no such effect on her father.
"Do you realize what a find this could be?" he continued. "The Zhou dynasty is estimated to have begun around the year 1050 B.C. This could be a very early bronze. That dragon must have an incredible story to tell."
"I can't wait to hear you tell it," she murmured. She liked her father the most at moments like these, when there was passion in his eyes, in his voice, in his heart.
"I can't tell the story until I see that dragon, until I hold it in my hand, measure its weight, listen to its voice, feel its magic." David walked over to the window that overlooked Union Square. Paige doubted he was looking at the city lights. He was caught up in the pursuit of a new acquisition. When that happened, nothing else mattered to him. He was completely focused on his goal.
And, for the first time, he'd included her. Usually, acquisitions went through preliminary calls made by his assistant buyers, depending on the type of piece and area of expertise. If they deemed the object of interest, they would call in her father. But this time, he'd come straight to her, asking her to call Mrs. Delaney. She couldn't help wondering why, but she wasn't inclined to ask. If he wanted her involved, then she'd be involved.
She smiled as he ran a restless hand through his wavy brown hair, messing it up. It drove her mother, Victoria, crazy that her husband often looked as creased as the dollar bills he stuffed into his pockets, instead of in the expensive wallet she'd given him for his fifty-fifth birthday several months earlier. But that was David Hathaway, a little bit rumpled, often impulsive, and always interesting. Sometimes Paige wished she was more like him. But, despite having inherited her father's dark brown eyes, she was more her mother's daughter. Maybe if he'd spent more time at home, if he'd taught her the things he knew instead of leaving her education up to her mother, if he'd loved her as much as he'd loved China ...
No, she wouldn't go there. She wouldn't be jealous of an entire country. That was ridiculous, and Hathaways were never ridiculous or anything else that was less than perfect.
Her grandfather and her mother had instructed her every day of her life to sit up straight, be responsible, never show emotion, never lose control. The lessons of a lifetime still ran through her head like an irritating song, one she couldn't ignore. Her impeccably neat office reflected those lessons, replicating the atmosphere in which she had grown up, one of sophistication, money, culture, and coldness. Even now, she felt a chill run down her arms that had nothing to do with the cool February weather and everything to do with her family.
Maybe if her sister, Elizabeth, had lived, things would have been different. She wouldn't have had to bear the burden of expectations, especially those of her mother and her grandfather, who looked to her as the only Hathaway heir upon whom all responsibilities would one day fall. Paige felt guilty at the thought, because there were a million reasons why her older sister should be alive and none of them had anything to do with making Paige's life easier.
"She found it in her attic," David said abruptly, turning back to her. "That's what the old woman said, right?"
"Yes, that's what she said on the show." Paige forced herself to focus on the present.
"You need to call her again, Paige, right now."
The strange gleam in his eyes increased her uneasiness. "Why is this so important, Dad?"
"That's a good question." The voice came fr
om the doorway.
Paige turned to see her mother, Victoria, enter the room. A tall, rail-thin blonde, Victoria was a picture of sophistication, the ultimate feminine executive. There was intelligence in her sharp blue eyes, impatience in her voice, and a hint of ruthlessness in her face. Dressed in a black power suit; Victoria was too intimidating to be truly beautiful, but no one who met her ever forgot her.
"I asked you a question, David," Victoria repeated. "Why are you stirring up the staff, asking Martin and Paige and God knows who else to find this Delaney woman? Is the dragon worth that much?"
"It could be priceless."
She uttered a short, cynical laugh. "Everything has a price, darling."
"Not everything."
"Have you seen something like this dragon before in one of your books? Or perhaps you've heard a story, a fairy tale? We know how much you love fairy tales, especially ones coming from China. You know everything there is to know about that country and its people." Victoria spit out the word people as if it had left a bad taste in her mouth. "Don't you?"
"Why do you care, Vicky?" he asked, deliberately using the nickname she hated. "It's not as if actual art holds any interest for you."
"Its value certainly does."
Paige sighed as her parents exchanged a glance of mutual dislike. Her father was right, though. Her mother rarely even looked at the inventory in the store. She was the financial wizard, the company spokesperson. David was the passionate art expert, the one for whom each piece told a special story. And Paige, well, no one had figured out her place at Hathaway's yet, least of all herself.
"Oh, I almost forgot." David reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch. "I bought this for Elizabeth's birthday, to add to her collection."
Paige watched as he slipped out a small, exquisitely carved jade dragon that had probably been designed to fit on the top of a sword. "It's perfect. It will go nicely with the others," she said as her mother turned away. Victoria had never been comfortable talking about Elizabeth or acknowledging the tokens that David continued to buy each year in honor of his oldest daughter's love of dragons. "Do you want to leave that with me now?" she asked.
Her father returned the dragon to its pouch. "No, I'll keep it until we go to the cemetery next week."
"Really, David, these ridiculous birthday parties of yours. They're so distasteful," Victoria said with a frustrated shake of her head. "It's been twenty-two years. Don't you think --"
"No, I don't think," David said, cutting her off. "If you don't want to go to the cemetery, then Paige and I will go on our own. Right, Paige?"
Paige looked from one to the other, feeling very much like a wishbone. But she couldn't say no to her father. Elizabeth's annual birthday party was one of the few occasions they always spent together. "Of course."
The phone on her desk rang. Paige pushed the button for the intercom, grateful for the distraction.
"Mrs. Delaney is on line one," her secretary said.
"Thanks, Monica." She put the phone on speaker. "Hello, Mrs. Delaney. I'm glad you called. We'd love to talk to you about your dragon."
"I'm so excited," Nan said. "It's been such an incredible day. I can't tell you."
Paige smiled at the enthusiasm in the older woman's voice. "I'm sure it has been. We're hoping we might persuade you to bring the dragon down to the store tomorrow so we can take a look at it. Maybe first thing in the morning?"
"The morning is out, I'm afraid. Riley can't drive me until tomorrow afternoon."
"That will be fine. In fact, we have a wonderful tea. I don't know if you've heard of it, but --"
"Oh, yes, yes, I have heard of it," Nan said. "I've heard it's fantastic."
"Good, because we'd like to treat you and a friend or a family member to tea and a private appraisal. What do you say?"
"That sounds terrific," Nan replied.
"Good, why don't we --"
"Just a second," Nan said. There was a rustling, then a male voice came over the speaker.
"Miss Hathaway, I'm Riley McAllister, Mrs. Delaney's grandson. We'll be entertaining offers from numerous dealers, you understand," he said in a brusque voice.
"Of course, but I hope you'll give us a chance to make you an offer after we verify the authenticity of your piece."
"Since your store has had people calling my grandmother all day long, I'm fairly certain we have the real thing. But we will not be making any decisions without doing considerable research into the company making the offer. The House of Hathaway isn't the only game in town. And I will not allow my grandmother to be taken advantage of."
Paige frowned, not caring for the implication. The House of Hathaway had an impeccable reputation, certainly not one of taking advantage of little old ladies.
"My grandmother will bring the dragon in tomorrow," Mr. McAllister continued. "She'll be coming with a friend and myself. We'll be there at three o'clock."
"That sounds --" The dial tone cut off her reply. "Well, that was rude," she said, pressing the button to disconnect the call.
"Why did you suggest the tea?" her father asked, irritated. "That's not until the afternoon."
"She said she couldn't do it in the morning."
"I just hope that doesn't mean she's taking the dragon somewhere else. I want that dragon, whatever it costs," he said.
"Don't be absurd, David," Victoria replied. "We don't have an unlimited budget. Need I remind you of that?"
"Need I remind you that I make the buying decisions?" David looked Victoria straight in the eye. "Don't get in my way, Vicky, not on this." And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Paige alone with her mother.
"Always so dramatic," Victoria murmured.
"Why do you think this dragon is so important to Dad?" Paige asked.
"I have no idea. What's important to your father has been a mystery to me for some time." She paused. "Keep me informed about the dragon, won't you?"
"Why?"
"Because I run the company."
"I've never known you to care about an old statue."
"I care about everything that concerns this store, especially things that make your father believe he has a blank check."
Paige frowned as her mother left the office, shutting the door behind her. It had been a long time since both her parents had been interested in the same thing. That couldn't possibly be good.
END OF EXCERPT
ONE TRUE LOVE
EXCERPT
@ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Chapter One
Wind chimes blew in the warm breeze, a robin sang out for its mate to finish the nest before the babies came, and Nick's guitar played a soothing melody of sleep and love. The porch swing creaked as Lisa stroked her baby's head, letting the fine strands of black silk curl around her fingers. She pressed the baby closer to her heart. She'd never felt so happy, so complete. Then Nick hit a false chord, a shrieking note that clashed with the springtime harmony. The robins squawked and fluttered and flew away, leaving their nest dark and empty ...
Lisa Alvarez jolted awake, her heart racing, her breathing ragged. "It was a dream," she told herself. "Just a dream." The pounding on her office door brought her back to reality.
"Elisabeth?" her secretary called.
"Come in," Lisa said somewhat weakly, still disoriented by the vivid dream.
Her secretary, Marian Griggs, walked into the office with a brightly wrapped box in her hand. "I know you told me not to disturb you, but this just came for you. I thought it might be a wedding present, and well, you know how I am about presents," Marian set the box down on the desk in front of Lisa and sent her a curious look. "Are you all right?"
She pushed a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine. I just put my head down for a minute. I was so tired after working all night, I guess I fell asleep."
"Open the gift," Marian encouraged.
Her hand shook slightly as she slipped the r
ibbon off the box and removed the lid. She carefully pulled away the white tissue paper to reveal a charm bracelet that held only one small charm, a pair of gold baby shoes. "Oh, no," she whispered as she touched the shoes with her fingertip. "Oh, no." The metal burned her fingers, and she slammed the lid down on the box and took a deep breath.
"What's wrong?" Marian asked with concern.
"Please, go. Just go."
Marian looked like she wanted to argue, but then she nodded. "Okay. I'm going." She walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Lisa took several calming breaths. Why was it all coming back now, when she finally had her life together? After a long moment of indecision, she opened the box once again. This time, she reached for the small envelope lying beneath the bracelet. She slipped it out and opened it.
"Eight years, Lisa. You can push the rest of us away. You can marry this safe, older man, but I will not let you forget her -- Robin Nicole Maddux. This bracelet was blessed. If you hold on to it, you will feel the magic. Believe in it now and come home, before it's too late."
Eight years, and her mother, Silvia Alvarez, still hoped for a miracle. When would Silvia learn that there was no magic in the world -- only foolish dreams?
She looked at the bracelet once again. It had been blessed by her great-aunt Carmela, who drank tequila for "medicinal purposes" and fashioned jewelry out of gold nuggets she believed were from an ancient Aztec city. Her mother might believe Carmela was a descendant from the mystical Aztecs and therefore had special powers, but as far as Lisa was concerned, Carmela was nothing more than an old con artist. That's why Lisa had left the bracelet behind all those years ago -- as she had left everything else behind.
Setting the box on the edge of the desk, she walked over to the window, resting her palms on the windowsill. Below, the streets of downtown Los Angeles bustled with activity, but here in her third-floor office, she was protected from the heat and the smog, the mix of languages, the car horns, the curses, the smells of burritos and quesadillas being sold in tiny taquerias tucked in between the glass and chrome skyscrapers.
All She Ever Wanted Page 33
