A Bid for Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  She looked up from the paper and scanned the pamphlets again until she found the one she was looking for. It was near the bottom, and she bent to retrieve it.

  A hideous-looking Buddha stared out at her from the pamphlet cover. “Boy, are you ugly,” Cassi whispered. “Why on earth would anyone want you?” She traced the lines of the Buddha as she remembered her conversation with Linden only the day before.

  “I want you to bid for the Buddha,” he said. “It’s a very interesting piece from the late Kushan period. It is believed to have been made at Mathura, and is a well-preserved piece for the price. If you win the bid, call me and I’ll come down with Justin and Gary to transport it.” Justin and Gary were the guards who worked for the gallery, and they always picked up the most important items. Other purchases she usually sent through a security company.

  “Don’t go over three hundred thousand for it, though,” Linden had added.

  “And if I don’t get it for that?” asked Cassi.

  Linden frowned and shook his gray head. “Then find out who does get it. This is very important, Cassi. I don’t want you to contact the person. Just find out who it is and call me. Okay?”

  “Sure.” But Cassi was puzzled. Linden had never asked her to find out who scooped an item from them, though Cassi’s curiosity usually made her seek the identity of the person and what gallery he represented, if she didn’t already recognize him. Besides being a matter of professional pride, it helped her to know who to look out for in the next bidding war.

  “Why would someone want you?” Cassi repeated to the silent Buddha. While she recognized that some people were more intent on design than beauty, she still found it hard to overlook the Buddha’s sharp, repulsive features. It certainly wasn’t something she would display in her own home. She brought the paper closer to study the image, searching for signs of the Kushan period. Could it really have come out of Mathura? Located in central India, a distinct Greco-Buddhist art had evolved in Mathura, so it was very possible. Of course, the poor photograph couldn’t reveal much, even to eyes as practiced as Cassi’s.

  “You like him?” A male voice asked casually from behind her.

  Cassi’s head jerked around, hoping it wasn’t someone she knew. To her relief, she saw a man who didn’t seem familiar. He was tall and handsome, with medium blond hair and well-molded facial features. His chin was slightly prominent, giving him an air of confidence. Unlike Cassi, he was dressed for the occasion. He wore an expensive-looking suit, and his short hair was combed meticulously into place. His startling blue eyes stared intently at her.

  “Intellectually, yes. Physically, no,” she replied hurriedly, feeling horribly self-conscious. This man was obviously a buyer, and Cassi hoped he wouldn’t remember her later. “Excuse me.” She turned abruptly and retreated down the hall, forcing herself to maintain a sedate walk until she was out of his sight.

  “Darn it,” she mumbled. “Why did I stay? I almost got away without being noticed by anyone.”

  She grumbled all the way up the stairs and into the room, where Renae lounged at the table. Breakfast was already waiting, and the aroma of sausages made Cassi’s mouth water.

  “I should have just sent out for a copy,” she said, flinging herself onto one of the chairs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Cassi told her about the man. “I was so embarrassed. What if he sees me later, and I have to try to deal with him? He’ll never think of me professionally after this.”

  To Cassi’s chagrin, Renae started laughing. “Oh, Cassi, when did you get to be such a snob? Who cares what you’re wearing? And who cares what that stranger thinks? Is this the same Cassi who went to the Junior Prom dressed as a cave woman? You aren’t acting like the girl I used to know.”

  Cassi scowled, but slowly her face relaxed into a smile. “You dared me to do it.” She giggled. “Do you remember poor Tom’s face when he saw me?” Tom was the only boy who had ever come out and told Cassi he liked her, which was why she had gone out with him. But, alas, her spontaneity at the prom had been too much for him, and he had turned to less impulsive companionship.

  “Oh, you’re right. I guess I’m putting too much importance on this.” It’s just that my work is all I have, she wanted to add, but didn’t. Renae, with her adoring husband and nearly five children, could never understand the feeling of not being connected that Cassi endured daily.

  Renae laughed. “Sure. He won’t even remember you. And if he does, maybe it will be as a woman instead of a buyer.” Before Cassi could protest, Renae continued. “Now hadn’t you better eat so we can get downstairs? I’ll comb through your hair for you.” Renae’s own dark blond locks were thin and straight, and she had never hidden her envy of Cassi’s hair.

  Cassi smiled. “I haven’t had a better offer in weeks. It’s good to be with you, Renae. I’m so glad you came.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jared awoke early Saturday morning, the longings of the night before put firmly behind him. He showered, dressed, and ate before reviewing pamphlets that detailed the items Laranda had requested. At the previewing, he would also search for additional items that would bring profits to the gallery.

  By nine o’clock, Jared felt prepared. The previewing would most likely open at ten, and if he went now he would have an hour to talk with the few other buyers who would appear early. He also wanted to look at the auction schedule.

  He whistled as he left his room, eager to begin another interesting day. If nothing else in his life was satisfying, his work was; he loved it. The elevator took Jared down to the main floor. The gold carpet and elegant wallpaper gave the hallway an air of opulence. Confidence flooded through him.

  Near the auction hallway, he could see a slim, shapely girl bending over the usual array of pamphlets. Her long, dark brown hair had a few golden highlights which glinted in the sunlight streaming in from a large window at the end of the corridor. Tiny ringlets splayed over her head and down her back, reminding Jared of Wendy, one of the girls he had dated. It was a look he had always admired, until he saw first-hand the hours she wasted achieving it—and until he felt the hair itself, stiff and dry like curly straw.

  The girl bending in front of Jared didn’t hear his approach on the thick carpet. She was wearing old jeans that strangely accentuated her feminine features. This was certainly no stuffy buyer, but perhaps a young girl who happened upon an interesting display and decided to investigate. Jared supposed she had spent hours on her hair in the hopes of being noticed by some male who didn’t know what it had cost her to attain the look. He was not impressed.

  “Why would someone want you?” The girl straightened, and over her shoulder Jared could see that she held the pamphlet featuring the Buddha. He was close enough to her now to smell her hair. Not cloying and sweet like perfume, but nice and clean. To his surprise, even this close it looked soft, quite unlike Wendy’s sculptured locks. He squelched his sudden desire to reach out and touch it.

  Maybe it’s natural, he mused silently. Naw, they’ve just invented better products since Wendy. Aloud he said, “You like him?”

  The girl’s head swung around. He had intended to explain to her why someone would want such an item, but her expression stopped him. Her dark eyes darted, avoiding meeting his, looking trapped.

  “Intellectually, yes. Physically, no,” she replied, lifting a hand to push her curly locks over her shoulder.

  Her answer implied that she knew more than he expected. He searched her smooth, slightly olive-skinned features and found them also far removed from his preconceived picture of her. She was older, about twenty-five, he guessed; not a girl, but a woman. She wore no makeup and her face, framed with all those tiny ringlets, was not beautiful in the regular, flawless sense of the word but very appealing. Jared stared.

  “Excuse me.” The woman turned abruptly and walked away before Jared could think of anything else to say. Who was this woman? An interested bystander? Or one of the buyers who cared little for conventi
on? Jared found himself hoping for the latter. Interest rose in his heart, though he tried to stifle it.

  “Two hours,” he mumbled to himself. “It took her two hours to get it to look that way.”

  “Jared, is that you?” said a voice behind him. The words were spoken in perfect English, but with a decidedly French accent. “It is you. Whatever are you talking about?”

  “Darn carpet,” Jared said under his breath before turning to face an owner of a prominent Los Angeles gallery. Léon-Paul Medici was not only an owner but an astute buyer as well. “Léon, pleased to see you again. So what can I outbid you on this time?”

  Jared forced his mind away from the puzzle of the woman and back to his work. He had to get that Buddha for Laranda.

  * * * * *

  Jared didn’t go directly to the Buddha when the two auction guards finally opened the viewing. First he went to see the other items on Laranda’s list, keeping a sharp ear out for any information he could use. He eliminated three of the other four art objects Laranda had marked, and one of the two paintings. They either weren’t suited for her gallery or wouldn’t likely bring a large enough profit. Then he systematically worked his way over the rest of the items. Only three caught his attention. On these he would bid, leaving the rest for the smaller, less discriminating galleries.

  “That Buddha’s something else, no?” Léon said, appearing at Jared’s elbow.

  Jared shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “It’s not the most expensive item here.”

  “No, but it’s the one you came to bid on.”

  Jared turned his head and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “I know you,” Léon said, exaggerating his French accent. One dark eye closed in a wink. “You haven’t gone to look at it yet.”

  Jared smiled. “Are you bidding for it?” If Léon was interested in the Buddha, the price would go to the ceiling. He represented serious competition.

  “I was. It is an interesting piece. However, I am more interested in that.” Léon nodded toward the painting in front of them. It was an item that hadn’t received much publicity, but which would bring a great profit to the gallery that purchased it.

  Jared nodded seriously. “It is very good. I think it’ll look excellent in your gallery—until you sell it for a hefty profit.”

  “As the Buddha will in yours.” Léon smiled and held out his hand to seal their bargain. Jared felt like whistling again.

  Together he and Léon made their way to the Buddha. A group of people were just moving away from the display as they approached. Only two women remained. One was in the last stages of pregnancy, and the other . . .

  Jared caught his breath. With the expectant mother was the woman he had seen earlier by the pamphlet display. Her hair looked much the same, but now she was wearing makeup, so subtle that Jared barely noticed its effect. She was dressed in a form-fitting suit coat and skirt. Unlike many of the female buyers, her skirt reached nearly to her knees.

  Léon whistled under his breath. “What I wouldn’t give to go out with her.”

  “Who is she?” Jared asked.

  Léon glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t know? But that’s right, you’re in New York. She’s the new head buyer for the Johansen Gallery.”

  “San Diego?”

  “Yes. She’s upset quite a few of my little bids. Quite surprising. Innovative. I tried to ask her out, but . . .” Léon shrugged.

  “How old is she?”

  Léon shook his head. I don’t know. Looks about twenty-five but has to be older than that. She was an assistant buyer at Johansen’s for at least five years before her promotion.”

  They had come within earshot of the women, and Jared could hear Cassi pointing out features on the Buddha which stood on a pedestal in front of them. She obviously knew what she was talking about.

  “See how the Buddha is so thin? Not your average Chinese Buddha. This is believed to have come out of Mathura in central India, which was where the more Indian style of Greco-Buddhist art evolved.”

  “Greco-Buddhist?” asked the other woman.

  “Basically that means the art of Kushan India. The other Greco-Buddhist center was Gandhara in northwest India, but the art there had more of a Western influence. This piece is very typical. See how his hands are, facing upward, his back stiff? That’s the meditation pose. The lotus flower on his pedestal represents divinity, fertility or birth, wealth, knowledge and, of course, enlightenment. It also represents purity, long life, health, honor, and good luck.” She chuckled. “So much to represent for such a little flower that often blooms from the mud. And this mark here is . . . hmm, that’s strange. It should be—”

  Jared found himself waiting anxiously for her explanation, but Léon interrupted them.

  “My dear Cassi, how good to see you.” Léon stepped forward and reached for the woman’s hand. Her wide-set eyes narrowed, but she shook hands with him. Léon held her hand longer than necessary, sidling closer to her. Jared noticed that she pulled her hand away as quickly as possible. As her hand returned to her side, she glanced up at Jared but showed no sign of recognition. Either she was a very good actress, or she didn’t remember him.

  Léon continued his spiel. “And who is this mother-to-be? Another new buyer for Johansen?”

  Cassi smiled. “No, Léon, this is one of my high school friends, Renae Benson. We’re just spending some time together.”

  “She’s trying to give me a little culture,” Renae said bluntly, her voice rich with earthy amusement.

  “Are you enjoying it?” Léon asked as he shook Renae’s hand.

  “I enjoy any time away from my four children,” Renae joked.

  “Four?” asked Jared, surprised Renae was expecting her fifth child. There weren’t a lot of people who wanted many children nowadays. Jared was the third child of six, and he had always enjoyed the bustle of life that had surrounded his parents’ house.

  “Yes, a boy and three girls. But who are you?”

  “Ah, excuse my manners,” Léon said. “Cassi Mason, Renae, ah, Benson, wasn’t it?—this is my friend, Jared Landine, from New York. He represents the Garrettson Gallery.”

  Jared reached to shake Cassi’s hand. He was determined not to mention that they had already met—at least until she herself remembered. Her grip was firm on his, not like the limp excuse for a handshake that Léon and most of the other buyers gave him. Yet her hand was also soft and delicate, seemingly fragile in his larger one.

  As she had with Léon, Cassi pulled away quickly. Jared didn’t react, but wondered why she was so unfriendly. She turned slightly toward the Buddha, her thick eyebrows knitted in concentration while Jared shook hands with Renae, whose grip was only slightly less firm.

  “Are you interested in this thing?” asked Renae. “It sure is ugly. I wouldn’t want it for my living room, not even if someone gave it to me.”

  Léon laughed.

  “I wouldn’t either,” Jared agreed with a smile. “But people are ready to pay a pretty price for this ‘thing,’ as you call it.”

  “Are you one of those?” Cassi stared at him, her eyes so intent and dark that for a moment Jared was lost in them. Irritation at his reaction flooded through him, and his reply was sharper than he intended.

  “Are you?”

  Her eyes met his in challenge. “I am.”

  “So am I.”

  “There are other items here of value . . .” She was trying to make a deal.

  “Are there?” Jared kept his voice hard and tried not to look into her eyes. “In which of them is your gallery most interested?” Jared’s words let Cassi know that he would compromise on other objects, but certainly not when it came to the Buddha.

  She glared at him, her chin raised slightly. “Which do you suggest?” She didn’t give up easily.

  “Come, come.” Léon broke in between them. “We shall see what shall be at the bidding, no?” Jared nodded and glanced over to the puzzled Renae, who had taken the conversation
literally, completely oblivious to its subtle undertones.

  “Until then,” Cassi said, nodding toward the men. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” Her voice was polite, but her eyes shot icy darts at Jared. She tugged on Renae’s elbow and they walked off, leaving the men staring after them.

  “She’s a strong one, that girl,” Léon said. “But cold. Cold as a—how do you Americans put it?—a fish. That’s it. Cold as a fish. I asked her out, and she didn’t give me the time of day. Others have tried as well, but she doesn’t even acknowledge them. Either she’s totally missing the subtleties of flirting, or she’s a snob.”

  Jared himself leaned toward the snob idea; she was certainly well-versed in the bargaining subtleties. “I can’t imagine you ever being subtle in regards to women, Léon,” Jared said, still staring after Cassi. Her curly hair stood out even from across the room, and he noticed that many male eyes trailed after her. What was it they saw in her? While attractive, she was certainly not as beautiful as many of the other women in the room. No, there was something else about her. Jared had to admit that she intrigued him. Imagine caring so little about convention that she ran around in old jeans before an important auction, not caring who saw her. She didn’t act like any woman he’d ever known—certainly not like Laranda, except for maybe the coldness. Jared shrugged and sighed, vowing to stay away from the woman. He didn’t like the way he seemed to lose himself when she was near.

  “I wasn’t,” Léon said, turning his head to stare at Cassi.

  “What?”

  “I wasn’t subtle.”

  Jared rolled his eyes. “Big surprise. Let’s go mingle, huh? I’ve got work to do.” Léon nodded and left in the direction of a group of women. Jared sighed again and turned back to the Buddha. Already another crowd of buyers had gathered. Time to eliminate a few more competitors.