by Fiona Grace
She paced along the aisle she’d left between the chairs, which was reminiscent of a wedding, and peeked around the wall to the main floor. There were now around thirty to forty people in the queue waiting to get their bidder’s cards. Lacey’s heart started slamming in her chest.
Gina spotted her. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked, somehow managing to talk and type at the same time. It was the sort of multitasking abilities that made Gina an expert gardener. “You look stressed.”
“I am,” Lacey said in a hushed voice. “There are so many people.”
“That’s a good thing,” Gina whispered back. “Just think how financially lucrative this auction is going to be. And channel all that nervous energy into your performance.”
Lacey nodded. It was the same advice Naomi was always giving her.
“You’ve got this,” Gina added.
Grateful for the pep talk, Lacey took a breath and headed back into the auction room.
She took her place at the pulpit, watching the room fill with men, women, and feathered fascinators. She spotted Colin (with Stella) enter and flashed him a friendly wave. He waved back and took an aisle seat.
Soon, every seat bar one was filled. Right at the front was the empty reserved seat of Oxana Kovalenko.
Just then, a hush fell over the audience. The whole energy of the room seemed to change in an instant. The sound of heels clacking slowly on the floorboards made everyone turn toward the door. And there was Oxana.
She waltzed in like she owned the place, like she was the bride walking the aisle in a tight navy dress and nude Louboutins. She made no hurry to take her seat, acting like the VIP at a fashion show. The reserved front row seat only added to the illusion.
The woman lowered herself into the chair directly in front of Lacey, and she regretted having given Oxana free rein to pick her seat. Her unreadable hawk-like eyes burned into Lacey. But what was done was done, and Lacey wasn’t about to let one formidable business tycoon put her off her game.
She grabbed her gavel, filled with determination. It was now or never!
“Welcome, everyone,” she announced, projecting her voice through the room. “It’s great to have you all here. Or virtually here,” she added, addressing the camera feed.
The attendees gave an appreciative titter of laughter. Bolstered, Lacey continued.
“I know you’re all excited to see the Isidore Bonheur, but as you can see from your item lists, we have some really fantastic items to show you first. There are some real gems here, and a lot to get through, so let’s get cracking. We’ll begin with this beautiful dark tan, Swaine-Brigg antique riding bag, complete with its original silver canteen.”
She revealed the first bag to the audience, assessing their expressions to see how interested they were. They were fairly unreadable, like poker players. Not the usual auction crowd, that was for sure. Still, she’d paid about thirty for each of the bags, but knew in the right conditions they could fetch close to one hundred, so decided to start at a safe-ish fifty.
“Let’s start the bidding at fifty,” she announced.
To her surprise, more hands than she could count went into the air. On the projector screen, several of the patchwork squares started flashing, demanding her attention.
“Oh!” Lacey exclaimed. “It’s going to be one of those days, is it?”
The audience laughed appreciatively.
Lacey pointed at bidder twenty-two, accepting them as the fifty-pound bid, then suggested, “Fifty-five?”
Not a single person dropped out the race. She’d need to make the increments bigger.
“Fifty-five to bidder fourteen,” she announced. “Can I get sixty-five pounds?”
A few bidding cards dropped, but there were still a good few dozen in the room, and at least ten more virtual attendees wanting to bid.
Sixty-five became eighty, ninety, and then one hundred. Lacey couldn’t believe it. This was only the first item!
“Can I get one hundred and five?” Lacey said, glancing about at the still room. “One hundred and four? Three? Two? One?” She chuckled, as no one else put in a bid. “Sold!” she announced, banging the gavel. “One hundred pounds to bidder number sixteen.”
The final bidder was a big woman with short gray hair and dangling gem-stoned earrings. She nodded in acknowledgment of her win, and Lacey noted down her bidder number, ecstatic to see the first item had sold for so much more than she’d paid the leather store man for it.
“Next, we have these nineteenth-century Latin American spurs,” she announced. “Sturdy iron with working rowels. Let’s start the bidding at one hundred forty pounds.”
She’d bought them for seventy, but since the Swaine-Brigg had gone so high, she decided to start the bidding way higher than she usually would.
There was just as much interest in the antique spurs as there had been in the saddle bag, which Lacey found even more surprising considering there was much less practical use for them. Maybe Gina was right when she’d said these types of people just really liked spending money.
Lacey accepted the first bid and took a calculated risk, announcing, “Can I get one sixty?”
She was expecting some kind of reaction from the audience that she’d increased the price by such a large increment, but they barely even blinked. It started to dawn on Lacey that one hundred and sixty pounds was chump change to these people. Heck, six hundred pounds probably was, too!
She accepted the one sixty pound bid, and moved up to one eighty. Mr. Oolong secured the one eighty bid, so she pushed it up to two hundred, which was also accepted by Monsieur Cheval.
“Two fifty,” Lacey suggested, making an ever bigger leap.
Mr. Oolong accepted the price without even blinking. In fact, if she was reading his expression right, it seemed that the higher the price went, the more he enjoyed it…
Lacey suddenly realized what was going on. They were showing off! Competing! This wasn’t the usual auction clientele after a bargain. The horsey people were specifically here to show off just how wealthy they were to one another!
“Three hundred,” Lacey announced.
Bidder twenty-three—a pompous-looking older man sporting a painfully red sunburn—flashed his card.
“Three hundred,” Lacey acknowledged. She looked back to Mr. Oolong, the other bidder still in the two horse race. “Four hundred?”
He shook his head. Ah! So there was a bottom to his pockets after all.
“Three fifty?” Lacey amended.
He nodded and flashed his card.
Lacey turned to the sunburnt elderly man. “Three eighty?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Three seventy?”
Another shake.
“Three sixty?”
He started to chuckle and shook his head again, indicating he was giving up entirely.
Lacey smiled and turned to Mr. Oolong. “Sold for three hundred and fifty pounds!” she announced, banging the gavel.
As she noted his number next to the item she couldn’t quite believe she’d made such a good profit on the spurs, all thanks to a grouchy man with a taste for obscure tea.
Lacey started feeling giddy from the high of it. She’d turned such a large profit on the first few items, she couldn’t even fathom how the rest of the auction would progress. Maybe all the horsey people would get bored of showing off to each other? Or maybe they’d just get even more competitive as time went on. There was only one way to find out!
The rest of the antique riding equipment sold just as well—the entire ten-piece WWI cavalry riding boots sold to Dustin Powell, aka lucky bidder number one. All the while, Lacey kept one eye on Oxana in the front row, who seemed to be bidding without rhyme or reason, never securing a win.
“Let’s move on to my personal favorite items on sale today,” Lacey said. “The art.”
She noticed Colin smile as she announced the first David Alfaro Siqueiros painting, the item she’d beaten him to at the Sawyer & Sons a
uction. She’d bought the pair for seven hundred in total, and wondered how much she might fetch for them here. The horsey folk certainly appreciated antique objets d’art, but they might not be so keen on the paintings she’d selected. It was an eclectic mix, after all, from the oil landscapes of John Mace, the Mabel Gear watercolors, and the Alexandre Pau De Saint Martin graphite master sketch.
“This gorgeous piece was created with shoe polish,” Lacey told the audience. “And I’d like to start the bidding at four hundred.”
A sea of hands rose into the air. On the projector a whole bunch of the little screens flashed. So there was going to be a fierce bidding war for the art as well, it seemed.
Amongst the people in the audience, Lacey noted that Colin had put in a bid. She pointed to him first, smiling to acknowledge the auction they’d attended together. Then Lacey took a breath and launched into it.
“We have four hundred, can I get four fifty. Four fifty there to bidder twelve. Five hundred? Yes, five hundred accepted to virtual bidder sixteen. Five fifty? Five fifty to you, sir. Six hundred?”
On and on it went, the price racing up as if money was no object to the attendees. She noted that Colin dropped out pretty quickly, followed by the rest of the bidders in the room. The bidding went to the virtual attendees, before finally settling at seven hundred and twenty pounds. It was an enormous windfall for Lacey.
Then she felt an excited rumble in her stomach. It was time for the Isidore Bonheur. Unlike the majority of the other items, the bronze sculpture was displayed in all its glory on a plinth. It looked alluring in the summer sun.
“And here it is,” she announced. “The Isidore Bonheur! Isidore Bonheur was one of the nineteenth century’s most distinguished French animalier sculptors and this gorgeous bronze jockey statue on marble base is one of his most commercially successful pieces. Standing at twenty-three inches tall and twenty-two inches wide, this one is in excellent condition, with no scratches or wear.” She thought back to the wonderful moment she’d found the sculpture in the small little art store on the cherry tree–lined street, and was overcome with romantic nostalgia. “Let’s start the bidding at three thousand,” she announced.
No sooner were the words out of Lacey’s mouth than she regretted them. She’d gotten lost in the moment and started too high. She was expecting to hear an audible gasp, or worse, laughter. But to her surprise, her starting bid was met by a sea of paddles. It seemed as if everyone wanted the sculpture—every person in the room and every one online, too!
“In that case, let’s start the bidding at three thousand five hundred,” Lacey amended, not quite believing what she was saying.
A couple of hands dropped, but, to Lacey’s astonishment, there were still too many for her to begin the bidding in earnest. She only had two eyes and one brain; she needed to wean down the masses to at least a manageable amount before she began!
“Four thousand five hundred,” she announced, hearing the pitch begin to rise in her voice.
Finally, with the starting bid at over double the price Lacey had originally paid for the sculpture, around half the hands in the room had lowered, and most of the patchwork screens were no longer flashing.
There were five interested parties left. Four in the room—Oxana, Dustin Powell, Monsieur Cheval, and Colin (gazing at her with his distractingly mysterious smile), and one on the screen, someone who’d chosen not to show his face, but just his username—Hugh Buckingham. He definitely sounded like a rich horsey person with a name like that, and Lacey wondered why he was staying anonymous. Perhaps he was hideously disfigured, she mused, getting giddy and carried away in the moment. Or maybe he was just sitting in the Coach House Inn pub, enjoying a nice pint of ale while he placed his bids. She made a mental note to ask Gabe to check his IP address after the auction, just to satisfy her curiosity.
Lacey pointed her gavel first to Colin. It only seemed fair, since he’d missed out on buying the sculpture in Weymouth because of her, though if he wanted it that much, Lacey didn’t understand why he didn’t just make a counteroffer at the time, rather than waiting for her to auction it and drive the price up so high.
He nodded in acceptance of the price, and a small smile played across his lips. Lacey quickly looked away, feeling a blush rising in her cheeks.
Her eyes fell straight to Oxana.
“Four thousand six hundred?” she asked.
The woman nodded.
Of all the people at the auction, Lacey was loath to sell the amazing sculpture to Oxana. The mean woman surely wouldn’t appreciate it. She probably had a thousand and one other artworks in her Ukrainian mansion, and the Isidore Bonheur would just sit there gathering dust. She desperately wanted it to go to someone who’d cherish it.
She looked at the jolly face of Dustin Powell. “Four thousand seven hundred?” she asked.
He nodded.
Lacey swallowed the lump in her throat. This was going far beyond her wildest expectations.
She looked at Monsieur Cheval next. He was sweating and tugging at his shirt collar. “Four thousand eight hundred?”
To her shock, he stood, threw his bidder’s paddle onto his chair, and stormed away.
Keeping her cool, Lacey simply moved on to Hugh Buckingham and repeated the offer. “Four thousand eight hundred?”
His screen flashed as he accepted the bid.
She worked around the room. With just four people left in the bidding, Lacey slowed the increments, but the fight remained fierce. Dustin dropped out at four thousand nine hundred, leaving the final three to push the price to the brink of five thousand.
Lacey’s mind was so giddy she could hardly even keep up with it. It felt like she was in some kind of dream!
“Four thousand nine hundred and fifty?” she asked Colin, hearing her voice saying the words but not fully comprehending she’d reached such dizzying heights.
The man slowly shook his head. He looked crestfallen. Lacey couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He’d lost out on the statue again. She wondered, once more, why he hadn’t even tried to out heckle her back at the Weymouth art store. She’d never have shelled out five thousand pounds for the statue. Two had felt like too much of a risk. He could easily have outpriced her if he was willing to go up so high for it.
Lacey also felt bad for herself. She’d have preferred to sell the statue to Colin, who clearly had a passion for it since he’d followed it across counties. Instead, she was left with two bidders: Oxana, looking pinched and stern in the first row, and the faceless Hugh Buckingham.
Since he’d chosen not to connect via his web camera, his name flashed every time he put in his bid, and his screen was flashing now to indicate he wanted to take Colin’s unclaimed bid.
“Four thousand nine hundred and fifty pounds,” Lacey accepted. She looked to Oxana. “Four thousand nine hundred and sixty pounds?”
Oxana nodded, but she appeared to be growing visibly frustrated.
“Four thousand nine hundred and seventy?” Lacey asked the faceless Hugh Buckingham.
Oxana glowered over her shoulder at the projector. Hugh’s screen flashed in acceptance. Oxana threw her arms in the air.
“Four thousand nine hundred and seventy?” she asked.
Oxana nodded.
Back to Hugh. “Four thousand nine hundred and eighty?” Lacey asked. His screen flashed.
Back to Oxana. “Four thousand nine hundred and ninety?”
Oxana gritted her teeth. Her pupils were dilated, giving her an eagle-like expression. She was clearly moments away from throwing in the towel.
But she nodded, and Lacey took the bid.
She turned to the screen. “Can I get five thousand?” she asked, hearing her voice come out high-pitched in disbelief it had really gotten this far.
The screen flashed.
A hubbub rippled around the whole room. The audience seemed to be enjoying this tense tennis match, and Lacey was glad for the excitement, because it helped temper her own giddiness that
she was about to make such a huge windfall on the gorgeous statue.
She looked at Oxana and opened her mouth, about to announce the next increment.
But Oxana beat her to it.
“Five thousand and one pounds,” she announced loudly, her strong accent seeming to reach the far corners of the room.
The hubbub turned to whispers of astonishment. Lacey couldn’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow. Never before had someone so brazenly interrupted her like that with a counter-bid. And such a petty one as well!
Still, Lacey didn’t have much choice but to accept the bid.
“Five thousand and one pounds,” she said.
A nasty smile spread across Oxana’s lips.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As unsatisfying as a pound by pound bidding war was for Lacey, it was still profit and not to be scoffed at. Besides, it seemed to entertain the crowd, who loved a good back and forth like it was a tennis match.
With Oxana’s one-pound higher bid, Lacey turned her attention back to her virtual attendee, Hugh Buckingham.
“Five thousand and two pounds?” she offered, adding the petty one-pound increment Oxana’s bid had forced her hand to make.
Nothing happened. Lacey tried again. Perhaps he’d not heard. “Can I get five thousand and two pounds?”
Still, no bid came.
Lacey frowned. So far, Hugh had been very quick on the draw. Lacey couldn’t believe that he’d drop out over a single pound. Even if he had a budget, one pound surely hadn’t pushed him over it.
A second passed. Then two. Then three.
In the front, Oxana raised a single eyebrow at Lacey, looking extremely unimpressed by her hesitation. And fair enough, really, Lacey had to admit. It wasn’t like she’d hesitated at any other point before now.
Quickly, Lacey glanced over at Gabe to see if there was any sign of him having issues with the virtual auction platform. He caught her eye and shrugged. Presumably that meant everything was in working order as far as he was concerned.
