“Got it.”
“Good luck tonight,” she said as an afterthought as she was leaving the conference room.
Afterthought or not, I couldn’t remember the last time Ellen had given me a compliment. In fact, I was fairly certain she’d never given me one.
I was using my lunch break to take the jewelry to Barton’s up in Stuart for an appraisal. I didn’t want to use the jeweler Dane-Lieberman used for our estate appraisals. As always, the entire staff of Barton’s greeted me by name.
“Finally here to buy that bracelet you’ve been eyeing forever, Finley?”
“Sadly, no. I’d like to get an appraisal on these items.” I carefully took the velvet pouch out of my purse and laid it on the counter. “Can you tell me how long it will take?”
“Tomorrow soon enough?”
“That would be great.” I filled out the paperwork required, then left Stuart to head back to my office.
Because I’d used a jeweler up near Tony’s house, my lunch hour was more like a lunch hour and a half. I parked between Ellen’s Volvo and Vain Dane’s Hummer. What a dweeb. Who needs a Hummer in the flattest state in the union?
As I locked my car, I got that tingly sensation that I was being watched. I looked around, but no one stood out. A postal worker. A couple of businessmen walking up Australian. A blond woman sitting with her back to me on a bench who looked a lot like my friendly neighborhood traffic enforcement officer. Maybe I was just paranoid because of the jewelry.
Even though I could justify taking it as partial payment for the extra hours I’d been working, I was still riddled with guilt.
No sooner had I walked in the door than Margaret said, “You’re late.”
“I had an errand.”
“I wasn’t told by Mr. Dane that you had permission to take personal time.”
“Because it wasn’t personal. I was here at seven thirty yesterday, so let’s just call it even.”
“That isn’t how it works.”
“It does in my world.”
As soon as I reached my office, my world changed dramatically. Tony was placing a beautiful vase of red velvet roses on my desk. The smell was amazing. I stood watching him, filled with a sense of vindication. May have taken him a couple of days, but he finally got that his offer of payment for babysitting Izzy was an insult. And nothing says I’m sorry better than a spray of guilt flowers.
I cleared my throat to let him know I was in the doorway.
He smiled. “So much for an anonymous gift.”
“They’re beautiful,” I said, moving close so I could smell one of the blooms. Inhaling the fragrance also meant moving close to Tony. Big mistake. “What are they for?” I wanted him to have to say he was sorry, too.
“Because tonight is your final class, and I wanted you to know how proud we are that you accomplished so much in such a short time. And with perfect scores.”
Was he kidding? Did he really not get that he’d humiliated me on Saturday? First by insinuating we were going on a date and then by trying to slip me seventy dollars? God, men are clueless!
“What happened to your forehead?” he asked as he reached out and carefully moved my hair out of the way.
Luckily, I’d iced it all night, so the expected goose egg was barely noticeable. In fact, the only thing calling attention to my injury was the Band-Aid. “I, um, fell.” It was hard to put a sentence together when I could feel the warmth of his touch all the way down to my toes. “At, um, home.” Apparently, I was able to be pissed and turned-on simultaneously.
His palm slipped down until he was cupping the side of my cheek. I could smell his cologne, and it momentarily rendered me incapable of rational thought. His head dipped. Closer, until his minty breath washed over my upturned face.
I was almost shaking with anticipation. My breath hitched as a lump the size of the Hope Diamond lodged in my throat.
And then the buzzer sounded, and we jumped apart like two teenagers caught by their parents.
“Good luck tonight,” Tony said as he quickly left my office.
I felt drained and cheated. Then the intercom buzzed again. I snapped up the receiver. “What?”
In a cheery tone, Margaret announced, “Mr. Dane wants you in his office. Now.”
Tattletale.
The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m finishing a text.
eight
Approaching his office, I breathed deeply and evenly, something I’d learned in the only yoga class I’d managed to attend, even though I’d paid for a full year of sessions. Apparently, a single class wasn’t enough to convince your heart to stop pounding against your rib cage when summoned to meet with the senior partner.
Crap, I should have brought a pad. Vain Dane got off on people taking notes. It made him feel powerful.
Which he was, since his ultra-conservative butt had the power to fire me.
Walking past the pin-neat, unoccupied desk of Dane’s executive secretary, I slowly crept down the corridor toward the impressively carved mahogany door to Dane’s office. Catching a whiff of Burberry cologne was slightly soothing. The signature scent reminded me of Jonathan Tanner. Even though my stepdad had been gone for more than a decade, I missed him every time I smelled that cologne.
The door was ajar, but I knocked and waited to be granted entrance.
“Come,” Dane’s voice boomed from inside.
Victor Dane’s office was very posh, very masculine, and very, very self-congratulatory. Lining the walls were various diplomas, awards, and community service acknowledgments. The custom shelving held professionally framed photographs of Vain Dane with various celebrities, politicians, and dignitaries, including a nearly twenty-plus-year-old photo of Dane dancing with the Princess of Wales at the Palm Beach Polo Club.
Dane sat at the edge of his desk, arms folded, expression hard.
The wall behind Dane’s desk wasn’t a wall. It was a floor-to-ceiling window with breathtaking views of the Intracoastal, Palm Beach proper, and the Atlantic Ocean in the distance.
The silence dragged on so long that I contemplated throwing myself through said window. Not a good plan since I had to pass my test tonight. The alternative carried two penalties. One, I’d have to reimburse the firm for the cost of the class; and two, I wouldn’t get to work with Tony on criminal cases. Besides, I knew the glass was impact-resistant and hurricane-proof, so my hundred-and-seven-pound body would just bounce off.
Dane reached behind him, grabbed the phone, and pressed the button. “She’s here, Margaret, thank you.”
Yep, I’m here, you traitor.
Dane was the picture of coiffed and polished. He was dressed in a handsome navy suit, monogrammed gunmetal polished cotton shirt, red-and-navy silk tie, and Bruno Magli loafers. He wasn’t tall like Liam, but he had presence. A commanding presence that managed to ball my stomach into knots. He was the male version of a nun. Every time I was in his office, I half expected him to crack my knuckles with a ruler.
His dark hair was overly gelled and styled, but it went nicely with his shiny, buffed nails. His eyes were also dark, and expressionless. Like a shark about to roll in for the kill. Whatever was on his mind didn’t show on his face. Nope. I sure as hell would not want to play poker with this person.
“Sit,” he said as he rounded his desk.
Come. Sit. Beg. It was like I was in frigging PetSmart getting obedience training! “Thank you.”
He slid a time sheet across the handcrafted mahogany desk. “It’s been brought to my attention that you took a long lunch today?”
Caught, I had to scramble for a minute. “Yes, sir. I fell and hit my head and woke up this morning with a terrible headache.” I paused to show him the Band-Aid, punctuating it with a taut grimace. “I thought it prudent to see a doctor.” Okay, so some of that was true, and there was nothing wrong with a little bit of creative thinking. After all Jane did have a PhD in mathematics, so technically speaking, she was a doctor.
Dan
e’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he split his attention between me and the greenish-blue shadow from his computer screen. Lacing my fingers, I placed my hands in my lap while Vain Dane was busy typing away. Attention still fixed on the computer screen, he asked, “You need to let someone know if you’ve got a medical emergency.”
I’m fine, thanks for asking.
He continued. “I also understand that there is a major problem with the Egghardt estate?”
“Not major, but I’ll have to petition to have the case reopened.”
Suddenly, his full attention was on me. “The Egghardt name carried a lot of weight in this town.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“How did this happen?”
I met his gaze full on. “Lenora—um, Ms. Egghardt—received a money order. That was the first we knew about the real property. Everything was done correctly, including placing ads in the paper to draw out any heirs or potential heirs to the estate.
“I’ve tracked down the people who’ve been living on the land. They claim they have a letter that serves as a lease. I’m giving them a few days to find it.”
Dane nodded. “Sounds as if you’re on top of it. Keep me in the loop.”
How about the loop part of a noose?
“Will do.”
“Your last exam is tonight?” he asked as he again swiveled slightly in his supple leather chair.
“Yes.”
“Well, good luck, and don’t forget you’ll need a copy of the attendance records to prove you complied with the terms we agreed on.”
“Thank you, and I’ll make sure to provide you with everything you need.” You cheap bastard.
“Still have a headache?”
You. “Yes, but it’s not a big deal.”
“Take the rest of the day so you can relax before your exam.”
“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Dane.”
“Practical. This firm has a lot invested in you.”
I was so not feeling the love. I waited about thirty seconds, and when he didn’t say anything, I knew I was dismissed.
After I left, I went back to my office to collect my things. Becky was waiting for me.
“Cute dress. Is that new?”
I nodded. “Don’t tell Jane. She’ll freak if she knows I spent a penny.”
“New shoes, too?” Becky asked through a smile.
They were cute. Platform pumps in a beige tone with my new favorite style, the peep toe. Because of the platform, the four-and-a-half-inch heel felt more like three and a half. Totally doable.
They were perfect for my new Suzi Xhin Maggy Boutique dress. It had a watercolor print in various shades of pinks and purples, as well as pleating at the cap sleeve and the waist. Hey, I needed something new to wear for my final test.
My turn. “New jewelry?”
Becky ran her fingers across the large, polished amber chunks that made up the thirty-inch necklace. When she did, I noticed the huge amber ring on her finger. It took up more than half her finger. “Guilty.”
She was seated in one of the two chairs opposite my desk. She passed me her empty coffee mug, which I filled from the coffeemaker behind and just to the left of my chair.
“What happened to your head?”
I explained the injury for the third time, only this time I added the good news that Vain Dane had given me the rest of the day off. “What are you doing down here?” I asked.
“Not very welcoming, are you?”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I insisted. “It’s just that it was your idea that we downplay our friendship here at work.”
“That’s only because I’d get in hot water if the partners knew about all the times we’ve shared long lunches. I just don’t want to jeopardize my—”
“Stop. I wasn’t complaining. I just wondered why you were spending so much time here. Aren’t you worried that Ellen will notice?”
“She isn’t here.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “She’s always here.”
Becky shrugged. “Something personal, apparently. Happened so quickly that all she had time to do was send me a text.”
“Wow,” I said before taking a sip from my mug. “She has a personal life?”
“Seems so.” Becky leaned forward, and her necklace clinked against my desk as she stood; she drained her mug in the process. “Is the Egghardt thing on track?”
“On it. I just have to do some more research.”
“Well, then, good luck tonight.”
“I wonder when they’ll devise a test for criminal procedure that requires you to pee on a stick.”
Once I arrived home, I kicked off my shoes and decided it wouldn't kill me to go over the study guide one last time. I grabbed a bottle of water and was about to go out to the cabana when my cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Finley. This is Ginger from Barton’s. Your appraisals are ready.”
“So soon?” I asked, glancing down at my watch. It wasn’t the watch of my dreams, but it was a perfectly acceptable Full-Blooded rose-tone Swatch that complemented my dress.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Just in case anyone from Dane-Lieberman wanted to reach me, I had calls from my landline forwarded to my cell. Twenty-three minutes later I was pulling my Mercedes into the parking lot. Barton’s took up one half of the bottom floor of a two-story building just off Federal Highway.
I stepped out of the car at the same instant a sharp crack of thunder boomed in the near distance. Great, all I needed was to get rained on. It’s a fairly common occurrence during the summer months; that’s why I keep a few umbrellas in my car. I reached inside and grabbed a four-inch umbrella that fit nicely in my white Coach bag. Lightning flashed, and another boom of thunder. Luckily no rain. Yet.
Going into the store, I was greeted again by Mary. She went into the glassed-in area, where the owner checked mountings and settings, did repairs, and appraised items. He was a large man, balding, and I’d never seen him without a jeweler’s light strapped on his head. To my embarrassment, I couldn’t remember his name and couldn’t summon the nerve to ask for the fifth time.
He draped a dark blue velvet cloth over the counter and lined all the pieces up. “You’ve got quite a collection here.”
“Is it all costume?”
“All but this one,” he said as he picked up the large crown brooch. “Platinum, four carats of brilliant cut stones. The diamonds at VS1, color between an E and a D. Worth in the neighborhood of twenty-five hundred to three thousand.”
My guilt side told me I should let Ellen know immediately. The rationalization side reminded me that I’d already asked Ellen and she’d relinquished the jewelry to me. Plus, there was the whole issue of my working roughly five thousand dollars’ worth of overtime with no compensation. “And the others?”
“The other three pins, maybe eight to nine hundred. The bracelet and earrings, roughly two hundred each. You know what you have here?”
“Lucy Shaw and Company pieces?”
“Very good,” he said. “I looked on the Internet, and I’m fairly sure these are pageant pieces.”
“As in beauty pageants?”
He nodded. “Got some years on ’em, too. I sent pictures of the serial numbers to the company in Detroit, and they’ll do a search of their records.”
“Thank you.”
“I told them to call you when they had the information.”
“Thanks,” I said as I shook his hand. “What do I owe you?”
“Two fifty will cover it. I’ll mail you a written report before the end of the week.”
Luckily, my credit card cleared. I would have been humiliated if Visa had outed me as a pauper. Jane was right: I needed to start living within my means. And once I sold the costume stuff on eBay, I could recoup what I’d paid for the appraisals.
I still had more than an hour before I had to leave for class, so I decided to go home. Abandoning t
he idea of studying, I got my digital camera out and photographed each piece of the costume jewelry as well as taking one group shot. I took the platinum brooch to my bedroom and placed it in the tampon box I used to hide all my good jewelry. I figured any thief wouldn’t think or want to look there.
Opening my laptop, I logged in to my secondary eBay account and began uploading the pictures of the items. Much to my surprise, eBay actually had a category for pageant items. Who knew?
I wrote a brief description, including that the pieces were vintage, that I could provide an appraisal, and that they all had maker’s marks. I decided I would let the auction go until the Friday before Lisa’s wedding. Hopefully, someone out there in the pageant world would be all over the stuff, bidding it up over value with so much time to bid.
But it still begged a question. Why would Estrogenless Ellen have beauty pageant jewelry?
I didn’t have time to ponder that conundrum. Time for me to head up to the Jupiter campus of Florida Atlantic University. Slipping my shoes back on, I took the forward off my phone. The professor had a very strict take on cell phones in the classroom.
My key was in the ignition when my cell rang. A blocked caller. I started the car, then slid the bar and switched the phone to the cool hands-free device I’d gotten through Hammacher Schlemmer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Finley. It’s Izzy. Am I bothering you?”
“Nope. On my way to take a final exam.”
“Yuck. Mine start in three weeks. Right after the dance.”
“Sorry.”
“The dress came today.”
“Did your father see it?” I asked when I heard the subdued tone in her voice.
“No, but I can’t wear it.”
“Why?”
“I think it needs like a special bra or something.”
I smiled. “How about dinner tomorrow night? We can hit P.F. Chang’s in the Gardens Mall, then make a swing through Victoria’s Secret.”
“Really?”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. “Yes, really. I’ll pick you up at five thirty. Okay?”
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