by Linda Hill
Again that slow smile. “As if I could forget. You were in rare form that night.”
I tried not to let her teasing get to me. “I know. I went a bit over the top.”
“But you won,” she interjected.
“Yes I did, and it was for charity,” I reminded her.
“Uh-huh.” I could barely tolerate her making fun of me, but I was determined not to let her get to me.
“Anyway ...” I narrowed my gaze. “Once I brought it all home I realized that none of it goes with the furniture that I currently have in my office.”
Her mouth flew open, her eyes horrified. “You’re not going to give them up, are you?”
“No,” I insisted. “I love those pieces and intend to enjoy them for a very long time. But the problem is that I have some mahogany pieces — desk, bookcase, and credenza — that I don’t need any longer. I was wondering if you might take things on here for people, on consignment. Or if you might be interested in taking them off my hands.”
The look on her face was difficult to interpret. “So you’re here on business.”
I nearly choked while trying to figure out exactly what she meant by that. Was she disappointed?
“More or less.”
She stared at me, and I watched the smile return.
“Actually,” I stuttered, “Beth suggested that I call you to see if you’d be interested or if we could work out an arrangement. I didn’t think you would, but thought I’d take a chance and drop in.”
She smiled slowly, warming my innards. “Beth is very sweet. Have you known her long?”
The way she smiled when she mentioned Beth’s name made me pause. It would be just my luck to find out that she was interested in Beth. Get a grip, I told myself. You don’t even know if she’s a lesbian.
“Many years,” I replied, my voice steady. “Since high school.”
Both eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s a long time.”
I grinned. “Are you insinuating that I’m an old woman?”
“God no.” She laughed. “I’m sure I’ve got at least ten years on you.”
I wanted to ask her age, but didn’t.
“In any case, it sounds like I should probably take a look at this furniture of yours. I don’t suppose you have a photo with you?”
I smiled sheepishly. I hadn’t even thought to take one.
She shrugged. “That’s okay. Perhaps I could come by and take a look?”
I stared at her, and blinked hard. I hadn’t been prepared for this turn of events.
“Sure. That would be great,” I finally spoke. “When’s good for you?”
“Ah.” She turned to pick up an appointment book and began flipping pages.
“Unfortunately, I’m only free on evenings and weekends,” I told her.
“That’s okay,” she told me, glancing up. “What about Friday or Saturday evening? I close up shop around five o’clock.”
My heart did an unexpected flip-flop. This felt too much like we were making a date.
“Friday’s fine. I could even make dinner if you like.” I nearly cringed as I said the words. What was I thinking?
“You cook?” She grinned.
I blanched. “Not really. But I do have a couple of dishes that I keep for occasions when it’s absolutely necessary.”
She laughed again, causing a tingle to flutter up my spine.
“Dinner on Friday it is, then. I can be there by six.”
“Great. Let me give you my address.”
I gave her directions to my house and watched her scribble down everything I said. I heard the tinkle of the bell above the door, and we both turned to see an older gentleman enter the store.
Annie greeted him and excused herself when he asked about a particular type of porcelain dish he was searching for. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye, so instead I took the opportunity to browse around.
It didn’t take me long to decide that I had been limiting myself all these years. Until now, my interest had always been exclusively in antique furniture. I’d been under the misconception that auctions were the best way to find good deals, but I soon realized that I’d been mistaken.
Not only did I find several pieces priced significantly cheaper than I’d expected, but I also found all kinds of treasures that set my adrenaline pumping. Clearly, I’d been missing out on quite a bit.
The first thing that attracted me was the rather large display of Coca-Cola items. There were advertising signs, a large neon clock bearing the Coca-Cola logo, napkin holders, and nearly anything else that I could imagine. But the item that really sent my blood pumping was the full-size Coca-Cola vending machine. It was the kind that I remembered from my childhood, that had a narrow glass door down the left side. Behind the door were round holes that held ten-ounce bottles of soft drink. The price of the soda was ten cents. I laughed and smiled all at once, memories flooding me.
I reached out and turned over the price tag, cringing as I let it fall back in place. Thirty-eight hundred dollars. Yikes.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” I hadn’t heard Annie sneak up on me.
“It’s beautiful. Pricey, too. Is this a rare item?”
Annie’s head dipped back and forth. “Yes and no. The old vending machines are somewhat rare. But the Coke ones are the easiest to find. This one’s been completely restored. There’s a guy down on the Cape that does a lot of work for me on some things that I find.”
I nodded, standing quietly while I admired the machine. “Do you ever see a 7UP machine? Or Pepsi?”
Her eyes lit up. “Much harder to find. And double the price tag, easily.”
I shook my head, admittedly feeling greedy. I suddenly wanted one, and had to laugh.
“I had no idea you could find stuff like this anymore,” I muttered. “I’m afraid I’ve led a sheltered life.”
Her raised brow told me that she didn’t believe a word of it.
“No, no. I mean that for so many years I barely set foot outside of my office. I was never home, and I never even bothered to buy real furniture until about a year ago. My house is practically empty.”
She looked at me oddly, and I realized I wasn’t making any sense. “A year ago I realized that I was completely burned out and quit my job at the time. It wasn’t until then that I started noticing things like this, and the oak office furniture. Does that make sense?”
“Sure, I suppose.”
“I’m finding so many things that are new to me. I started out with a few pieces here and there. Mostly functional things like furniture and bookshelves. But looking around your shop, I can see that there’s a whole other world of antiques and collectibles that I didn’t even know about.”
My eyes flitted across the narrow room, taking it all in. They focused on an old brass candlestick phone, and I heard myself gasp. “My god, is that real?” I turned and covered the eight steps between Annie and the tall display case behind her.
She laughed when she saw me staring at the phone, just inches from my face now. “It better be. I paid enough for it.”
“Does it work?” I let one index finger trail along the shaft.
“Yes it does, actually. All my phones do.”
“All?” Curious, I let my eyes go back to hers. Her grin was somewhat sheepish.
“You’ve discovered my real weakness. I collect phones. Every one ever made. They only make it to the shop if I already have one in my personal collection. And of course whenever I see one that’s in better shape than the one I already own, I have to buy it.” She seemed embarrassed now. “It really is my weakness.”
I let my eyes wander over her face.
“I’m glad to know you have one.”
She laughed. “Why?”
“Because until now I thought you were almost perfect.” I said the words before I realized how they might sound, and saw the color rush to her face.
She ignored me. “This one is a Western Electric. All original parts. The patent on it was nineteen-tw
elve.”
Trying to recover, I tried to pay attention to what she was telling me.
“It’s gorgeous,” I muttered, picking up the price tag and flipping it over. Three hundred dollars. I whistled low.
She laughed at me. “Only two-fifty for you.”
I caught the small crinkles around her eyes and felt my heart sink.
“Deal.” The word was out before I could take it back.
“What?”
“Sold. I’ll take it.”
She raised a brow, and I could almost read her thoughts. She was probably thinking that it must be nice to be the daughter of wealthy parents. I wanted to change my mind, but it was too late. I honestly didn’t like to flaunt money. But I couldn’t help thinking that it seemed every time I was around Annie I was spending ridiculous amounts of money. “Like I said,” I hastened to explain, “I’m really just beginning to decorate my home, and it’s actually kind of stark.” It was true. My walls were bare and my shelves empty.
She was smiling again. “Then you should come shopping more often!”
“Maybe I will,” I told her. “Now that I know what wonderful stuff you have here.”
The bell above the doorway tinkled again, and we both glanced up. A rather short, elderly woman entered the small store.
I glanced at my watch and cringed. I was going to be late for my first meeting with Donald Junior.
“Wow. I’m running late. Will you take a check?”
“Of course,” Annie told me.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my checkbook and pen, scribbling madly.
“So Friday at six?” she asked quietly.
Suddenly nervous again, I almost tore the check as I ripped it from its pad. “Friday at six,” I told her.
The woman who had just entered the store was clearing her throat.
“Let me wrap the phone up for you,” Annie suggested as she glanced at the woman and smiled.
“No, no,” I told her. “I need to run. Why don’t you just bring it with you on Friday?”
She shrugged. “You trust me with it for that long?”
“I guess I’ll have to.” I glanced at the woman who tapped her heel impatiently. “I’ll see you. Thanks for your help.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your day.”
I smiled a reply and waved as I walked back out into the sunlight.
CHAPTER FIVE
Donald Gold Junior was creepy. I couldn’t think of a better word to describe him. He was dressed perfectly in a three-piece suit, the cuffs of his white shirt starched just as stiff as his father’s. I suppose he was attractive enough, handsome in fact. Wavy dark hair and a chiseled jaw. Teeth perfectly white and even.
But he wouldn’t look at me. Except for the first moment when we shook hands, he wouldn’t let me see his eyes. They shifted nervously, just as his body seemed to bounce in his chair as I asked him questions.
“There’s no chance of reconciliation?”
“Hardly.” His voice was harsh.
“What assets do you own jointly?”
“The house.” He frowned. “I want the house,” he snapped. It was the third time he’d said those words. He began to fidget again as his impatience grew. “I thought my father already went over all of this with you.”
I tried to remain calm. “He did show me a short list of assets. Are you aware of what’s on the list?”
“Of course I am. I’m the one that wrote it.”
I nodded, biting my tongue.
“I want the house and all of the furnishings.”
I nodded again, trying to control the frown that pulled at my lips.
“I’m not sure whether or not your father explained to you that under Massachusetts law—”
“I don’t care about the law. I have ammunition. If she fights me on the house, I’ll ruin her. It’s that simple.”
My throat grew tight.
For the first time since the beginning of our meeting, he met my eyes. “Did my father tell you what she did?”
I chose my words carefully. “He mentioned that there was a woman involved.”
“Involved? How about bare-ass-naked-in-our-bed involved,” he spat.
I wanted to throttle him right there.
“I really don’t need you to go into the details right now, Mr. Gold.”
“I’ll spill everything if this divorce gets in front of a judge.” He placed both hands palm down on the table between us before lifting and pointing a finger at my face. “You make sure that her lawyer understands that, okay?”
I held my breath and swallowed the anger that was beginning to choke me. “I think I have enough information for now, Mr. Gold. If I have any other questions I’ll be sure to give you a call.”
He nodded, eyes shifting again. “I want this over with as soon as possible.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Gold.” I stood up, dismissing him. Decorum suggested that I hold out my hand, but I refused. The thought of touching him made my skin crawl. “You’ll hear from me soon.”
Eyes shifting, he nodded his head, apparently satisfied. I did something unprofessional and turned away, busying myself with a deposition and fingering through several files. I didn’t look up again until I knew he was gone. And when I did, I found myself nearly choking on my anger.
The situation was impossible.
CHAPTER SIX
I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Annie that I didn’t cook very often. In fact, it had probably been an understatement. Maria had cooked nearly every meal I’d ever eaten until I was twenty-two years old. I had attended Wellesley College for my undergraduate degree, and living at home was just too convenient and easy for me to consider leaving. Not to mention the fact that between my parents and Maria, I had been spoiled rotten.
Maria was a wonderful cook, and I had spent many hours in my youth atop a kitchen stool pulled up close to the counter while I watched her prepare our meals. I spent hours watching as she chopped, grated, mixed, and poured as she created delightful delicacies of every kind. Italian was my mother’s favorite, and Maria was a master. I had studied the way she layered lasagna noodles over ricotta cheese and meat sauce, and then added another layer before draping on the mozzarella.
Now as I stood in my kitchen, I couldn’t quite remember the order that the different ingredients went into the dish. I was tempted to call Maria but decided that the order of the layers probably didn’t matter. The sauce tasted near perfect, and that was what really mattered. I tasted the sauce one last time before grinning and sliding the dish into the oven.
Annie arrived right on time. She carried a bottle of Merlot in one hand and my candlestick phone in the other. Her smile was genuine as we greeted each other and awkwardly shuffled the wine and phone from her hands to mine.
“I’m so excited about my new phone. You’ll have to help me decide where to put it,” I chatted nervously as I led her from the front hallway and into the living room. I placed the phone down on the coffee table and excused myself while I deposited the bottle of wine in the kitchen.
When I returned, she was standing near the middle of the room, hands clasped behind her back as she tilted her head toward the ceiling. I followed the direction of her gaze and watched as her eyes trailed over the carvings of the molding that edged the ceiling.
“Very nice design. Is it all original work?”
I really had no idea what she was talking about. “I guess so. It was all there when I bought the place, so I can’t be certain.” The house was an old Victorian, with vaulted ceilings and intricate molding. It had been part of what had attracted me originally.
“It’s exquisite.”
I don’t think I’d actually ever heard anyone say the word exquisite before, and I smiled at the word, thinking it perfect from her lips.
“Exquisite?”
Her eyes met mine. “Yes. Incredible detail. Are you mocking me, or do you really not know what you have here?”
I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret the
question.
“No,” I stammered. “I mean, it’s lovely to me, which is why I bought the place. But beyond that, no, I don’t know what you mean.”
She glanced around the room once more, eyes narrowing before she brought them back to me. “If it’s all original, then you have a small fortune here. It’s remarkable work, really. You don’t see it very often anymore. Many people gutted their Victorians back in the fifties and sixties. Stripped everything down and modernized the rooms.” She stepped toward the glass pocket doors that separated the living room from what had probably once been a parlor or great room.
Placing her hands on each door, she slowly pushed them apart and watched them glide smoothly open before disappearing into the walls. She stood back and shook her head. “This is wonderful.”
“Thank you,” I told her, slightly embarrassed. I looked past her and the open doorway and into the great empty room before her. It was probably larger than many apartments, with oak flooring and tall, white walls. But it was completely empty of furnishings. I rarely went in that room. The truth was that I rarely went into any of the rooms besides the study and the bedroom.
I had purchased my home many years before, just out of college. At the time I had imagined filling the rooms with many grand things. But somehow my work had gotten in the way until my home was just a place to fall asleep at night.
Now Annie was glancing back over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised and a smile on her lips. “You weren’t kidding when you said the place was empty, were you?”
I laughed, a bit embarrassed. “You didn’t believe me? I told you, I’m just now getting around to decorating.” I took a few steps to stand beside her and we stared into the empty room together. “Unfortunately, decorating is not one of my talents. I may have to hire someone.”
“That would be a shame!”
I wrinkled my brow in reply.
“Decorating should be fun. Something passionate that you can get excited about. Envisioning what you want the room to look like and then creating it and watching it come to life.” Her voice was full of enthusiasm.
