Blood Rubies (2 page)

“My office manager, Gretchen, is having a baby. I'm throwing a surprise Jack and Jill baby shower for her and her husband.” I told her the date and grinned. “I expect about thirty people. I think Gretchen and Jack would love one of your Fabergé egg cakes.”

“Wonderful! Do you have a theme in mind?”

“Hawaii. That's where Gretchen and her husband met and fell in love.”

“How lovely. We could do a couple gazing at a baby in a lei-draped cradle with some palm trees and turquoise water in the background.”

“That sounds perfect. Maybe with a rising moon.”

“I love that idea!”

Ten minutes later, after I selected pineapple cake with orange-mango frosting, signed the order form, and left a deposit, Ana walked me out.

“Cut!” Timothy called. “We've got it. That's a wrap. Take fifteen and we'll pick up with Ana's Tips for Gracious Living.” He squeezed Ana's hands. “Ana, you just keep getting better!” To me, he added, “Well done, Josie! Thanks.”

I felt light-headed with relief that it was over. “You're welcome.”

“Do you have a minute?” Ana asked me as I turned to leave. “I'd love to introduce you to my friend, Heather, and her fiancé, Jason. I've known Heather for years. Jason is an investment guy—Jason Ferris—do you know him? You might have seen him on TV.”

“I don't think so.”

“He's a pretty big deal in some circles.”

“You sound skeptical.”

Ana laughed. “Not so much skeptical as jealous. All the time they've been dating, a couple of years now, I've just been trying to cover the rent. Here he is, the building-personal-wealth guru. Having ‘wealth' is a foreign concept.”

“My gut tells me that's about to change for you.”

“From your mouth to God's ears.” I followed her across the driveway to the fieldstone path that led to the porch. “I don't mean to sound disingenuous.” She laughed, half self-deprecating and half thrilled. “The last six months have been incredible. I have to remind myself that it's okay to celebrate a little.”

“Is that why you started your snow globe collection?” I asked, thinking of the two snow globes she'd already delivered to us for appraisal, one a Victorian Christmas scene, the other featuring a winsome black-haired beauty ice-skating with a handsome cavalier on a glistening frozen pond.

She'd purchased both at a Midwest antiques store because she'd fallen in love with them, one of the joys of collecting. They were sold “as is,” with no information provided or available about the objects' history or authenticity. From the lightbulb logo on the base, we were hopeful that the Christmas scene was an original Vienna Snow Globes creation. The other one remained a mystery.

“Yes, actually,” Ana said. “A thousand dollars may not sound like much to some people, but to me, that I had an extra thousand dollars in the budget … well, it's huge. If you tell me they're only worth two dollars each…” She laughed. “Let's not go there.”

I wished I could reassure her, but we never revealed partial information. It wasn't unusual for an antique that seemed promising at the start of the appraisal to turn out to be phony, and vice versa.

After a few seconds, I asked, “How do you know Heather?”

“We've been friends since we were kids—our families spent summers up here. She and I lived together in Boston for a couple of years after college, until she got serious with a guy and moved in with him—my brother, actually.”

“That sounds as if it might be awkward.”

“Not until Peter caught her in bed with Jason.”

“Ouch.”

“Luckily, civility and maturity prevailed.”

We climbed onto the covered porch. Ana reached for the doorknob, then paused. She stood quietly for several seconds, looking down as if she were trying to figure out whether her shoes were too pointy. When she raised her eyes, I saw a complicated mix of emotions. Concern and apprehension, certainly, but there was more—in addition to worry, I saw anger.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I just fibbed. Civility and maturity didn't rule, at least not at first. Peter punched Jason so hard he broke his nose.”

“Yikes.”

“I know. Fortunately, Jason decided not to press charges.” She shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don't blame Jason. The media would have had a field day. A straight-arrow TV personality ends up on the losing end of a brawl over another man's live-in girlfriend. He'd be a laughingstock, which wouldn't suit Jason's view of himself at all.”

“Definitely not good for business. How's Peter doing?”

“Fine, I guess. He sure dates a lot.” Ana grinned. “They tend to have curvy figures and names like Trixie and Bambi, if you catch my drift.”

“Not necessarily wife material, but an effective antidote to heartbreak?”

She chuckled. “That's one way to put it.”

“What about you and Heather? Did it affect your relationship?”

“Totally. I didn't speak to her for a year. I'd trusted her completely. That she could do something like that shook me to my booties.”

“Like an earthquake.”

“Exactly. Ground I thought was stable wasn't.”

“Yet here she is, helping you with your show.”

Ana turned and stared out over the ocean. “She called me out of the blue last summer. I'd just split with my husband.” She shrugged and turned back to face me. “Since Peter's doing all right, it's stupid for me to hold a grudge.”

“Good for you. Not holding grudges is a sign of real maturity.”

“Do you think so?” She smiled. “Let's go in so you can meet the guilty parties.”

All change is hard,
I thought.
Even when the change takes you back to familiar ground.

 

CHAPTER TWO

Ana's house was a surprising mix of traditional and contemporary design. The cottage itself was one of a dozen built by William Carlington between 1814 and 1833. Since that time, it had been completely overhauled. Walls had been removed to create an open layout. Recessed lighting and energy-efficient windows had been installed. Directly in front of the entrance, a fieldstone wall, original to the house, contained a fireplace large enough to roast an ox. All the furniture was ultramodern, mostly made of sleek white leather and steel.

Heather stood at a black granite kitchen island squeezing lemons into a pitcher. She was petite, even shorter than me. Her skin was super fair, and I wondered if she used whiter-than-her-skin-tone foundation or if this was her natural color. Her chin-length black hair was held off her face by a turquoise headband. Her eyes were hazel. Prisms from her huge—I guessed three karats—yellow diamond ring flicked along the counter. Jason was tall and classically handsome, with chiseled features and backswept brown hair. He leaned against a wall by the French doors that opened onto a slate patio, tapping into his smart phone. I guessed he was older than Heather by a dozen or so years.

“How did it go?” Heather asked Ana as we approached the counter.

“Fabulous, of course, since Josie was the guest.” All signs of Ana's angst had vanished. “Josie, meet my good buddy Heather Walker. Jason? Let me drag you away from work for a moment. This is Josie—Josie Prescott. She owns a big-deal antiques auction house here in Rocky Point.”

“Hi!” Heather said, smiling.

Jason looked up momentarily. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I said.

“Josie's doing the Fabergé Spring Egg appraisal, right?” Heather asked as she stirred in some simple syrup.

“Right. Timothy wants to use it in the pilot, so I figured I'd better get my insurance up to date. I'm embarrassed to admit that it hasn't been appraised in eighteen years.”

Heather laughed. “You don't need insurance—your dad's house is a fortress!”

“True … still, eighteen years is a long time.” She shrugged. “Anyway, since I was going to have that one appraised, I decided to have Josie look at them all.”

“Have you seen the other two, the Christmas scene and the skaters?” I asked Heather.

“Are you kidding? I was the one who encouraged Ana to buy them. ‘Live a little,' I told her. ‘You're starting to make some money. Enjoy it!' For once she listened to me.”

“What are you talking about!” Ana said, smiling at Heather. “I always listen to you.”

Heather shot Jason a look I couldn't read. “As if. You're the smart one. If I have any brains at all, it shows in my talent for surrounding myself with people who are brighter than me.” She dipped a spoon into the lemonade for a taste, then scrunched up her nose. “Tart.” She ladled in some more simple syrup and stirred, then took a clean spoon for another taste. “Yum.” She poured glasses and offered them around. “Lemonade, anyone?”

I reached for a glass. “Thanks!” The lemon flavor was bright and fresh. “What do you do, Heather?”

“I'm Jason's research assistant.”

“We share that interest, then,” I said. “A lot of my work involves research.”

“Do you specialize?” Jason asked me without looking away from his device, making me wonder whether he'd been listening to our entire conversation or just happened to overhear that remark.

“No. We're a full-service house. I run monthly high-end themed auctions and weekly tag sales. Which means I need a lot of inventory, so I buy anything and we deal in everything.”

I'd caught his interest, and he took a step toward us. “I collect chess sets. Just got a beauty—English boxwood.”

“Nice!”

Jason cocked his head, reading my expression. “Not impressed?”

“I'm always impressed when a collector finds an object they love.”

“But…?”

“English boxwood chess sets aren't particularly rare.”

“What is?”

“Decorative glass. Exotic woods, like rosewood. Anything from the eighteenth century or earlier.”

“How much should I have paid?”

“There are too many variables for me to say without examining it—who made it, who owned it, who played with it, its condition, and so on.”

“I like your style, Josie. I host a weekly investment show on cable and write a monthly newsletter, both called
Ferris Investor News
. We should talk. I'm always looking for expert investment advice I can pass on to my viewers and readers. When I get back from my honeymoon, let's brainstorm how we can work together.”

“I'd love it,” I said.

I extracted a business card from the sterling silver case my boyfriend, Ty, had given me for my last birthday and handed it to him. He pulled one from an inner pocket of his wallet for me.

“In the meantime, will you appraise my collection?”

I tucked his card away. “With pleasure!” I explained our procedures, and Jason said he'd stop by to sign the paperwork in the morning.

“More lemonade?” Heather asked.

“Thanks.” I held out my glass for a refill. “Where are you going on your honeymoon?”

“Australia,” Heather said.

“Bedarra Island,” Jason said with a cocky grin.

“That's on the Great Barrier Reef, right?”

“You know it?” Jason asked, impressed.

“I read about it in
Travel & Leisure.
”

“It's very chichi,” Heather said, half embarrassed, half excited.

“I have a reputation to uphold,” Jason said. “My audience expects me to live the good life, to live their dreams.”

I couldn't tell if he was joking.

Heather placed her hand on her hip. “You're taking me to Bedarra to impress other people?”

I couldn't tell if she was joking, either.

“No. I'm taking you to Bedarra because you're the perfect woman I'd given up hope of finding. I want to impress
you.
”

“You silver-tongued devil, you. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“That's the idea,” he said, turning back to his phone.

She stirred the lemonade.

Ana stood off to the side, her eyes moving from Jason to Heather and back again.

“This lemonade is delish,” I said to change the subject. “Do you share Ana's love of cooking?”

“God, no! In fact, I can barely boil a steak. Oh, wait, I just remembered! You don't boil steak.”

I laughed. “Then I assume you're not having a do-it-yourself wedding. Who's your caterer?”

Jason wandered back to the window to catch the light and started reading something on his phone.

“Ana is taking care of the wedding cake and desserts, natch. Everything else is being handled by the Blue Dolphin.”

“That's my favorite restaurant!”

“Me, too!” Ana said.

Heather giggled, her eyes beaming mischievously. “Josie's talking about the food, Ana, not the chef.” She turned her gaze to me. “The executive chef, Ray, has been spending an awful lot of time going over the menu with Ana.”

Ana laughed. “That's just because he's trying to placate his pastry chef, Maurice. Talk about temperamental! Jeesh!”

“Everybody's got attitude,” Jason said, not looking up from his device. “Like this guy here.” He tapped his screen. “He reads my investment newsletter, loses money, then has the gall to blame me.”

“Aren't people supposed to follow your advice?” Ana asked. “Isn't that the point?”

“Hell, no. They're supposed to educate themselves, not follow the herd. It says so plainly at the top of each issue and at the start of each episode.” He grinned at me. “Caveat emptor—right, Josie?”

“I don't know anything about your business. In mine, we warranty what we sell. Every antique or collectible's pedigree is set out in writing, or it's sold ‘as is.' I don't want clients to misunderstand what they're buying.”

He winked at me. “I knew I'd want to do business with you.”