Blood Rubies (40 page)

“More than great … she's great and she's perfect for you. You're perfect for one another.”

Wes smiled, and they left, hand in hand.

Timothy flitted up as soon as they left. “Was that the newly engaged couple you told me about?”

“Yes.”

“You're right—they are cute as bugs.”

*   *   *

The crew wheeled out the last of the crates as Ty and I finished folding and packing all the garlands.

Timothy turned to me. “Got a minute?”

“You bet. As long as we can do it sitting. I'm beat.”

“Let's do it over a cocktail.”

“Not a mai tai. I'm done with Hawaiian drinks for a while. Is it all right if Ty joins us?”

“Up to you. I need to discuss a bit of business about your performance.”

“What we shot Friday? Didn't it go well?”

“Let's get those drinks.”

I turned to Ty. “I need to talk to Timothy for a few minutes. Are you all right finishing packing up everything without me?”

Ty shot Timothy a look, trying to get a read on the situation. Timothy's expression revealed nothing except mild pleasantness.

“Sure.”

We headed for the bar. Timothy ordered Jack neat in a rocks glass. I had my regular, a watermelon martini.

“So,” he said once we'd clinked glasses, “New York is happy.”

“New York,” I now knew, was euphemistic for his bosses, the industry executives who could green-light his projects.

“That's good news.”

He made a “you have no idea” expression and took a sip. “Very. They're happy with Ana, and it looks good that we'll get a full season out of the deal.” He sighed. “I put together a montage of vignettes for Heather. We won't be using any of those scenes, of course.”

“That's lovely of you. I'm sure she'll cherish it.” I wondered if that was true or if, in her newfound efforts to start fresh, she'd toss it in a drawer, unwatched.

“It was the least I could do.” He cupped his drink, staring into the amber liquid for a moment. “But that isn't what I want to talk to you about.”

I braced myself for what I was certain would be constructive feedback. Timothy was a gentleman and an experienced professional. It might be hard to hear, but I was determined to listen like a reporter, taking it in like a sponge, without judgment, to be evaluated later, alone.

“What do you think of
Josie's Antiques
?”

“Huh?”

“When I said New York loved you, I meant it. They super-loved you. They want to do a pilot of a new show featuring you and your world. I like
Josie's Antiques,
don't you? It's simple, clear, and friendly.”

“Me?” I asked, stunned. “You want to do a show about me?” I laughed. “That's insane. I get all tongue-tied on camera.”

“No, you don't. You're you. Earnest and sweet. You're the girl next door, except you know way more about antiques than the girl next door.”

I laughed until I howled. Tears streamed down my cheeks. When I was finally able to stop, I patted my eyes with a cocktail napkin and sipped some water Timothy thoughtfully asked the bartender to provide.

“That's the funniest thing I've ever heard,” I said.

“I'm serious, Josie. I have contracts in my car ready for your review. What do you say?”

I stopped laughing and started thinking. The publicity potential was indescribable. This show had the ability to catapult my company into the big leagues. The very, very big leagues. I'd been thinking that if Ty got a promotion at Homeland Security, we might need to relocate to Washington, D.C., and I could open a second location, Prescott's Capital Antiques and Auctions, commuting back and forth from D.C. to Rocky Point. I could learn to be comfortable in front of the camera. And even if I never felt comfortable, I could learn to do a good job anyway.

“I'm astonished and honored, and I accept.” I raised my martini glass. “To
Josie's Antiques.
”

Timothy clinked my glass. “We're going to make beautiful TV together, Josie.” His phone vibrated, and he read a text. “Oh, God! They can't do anything without me.” He clinked my glass again. “I'll go get those contracts.”

He flitted away, and I texted Ty to come join me. I started laughing again, and I was still chuckling when Ty swung onto the stool next to me and ordered a Smuttynose.

“Timothy wants to do a reality TV show starring me. The network executives love me. They want to call it
Josie's Antiques.
”

Ty smiled. “You're joking, right? You hate being the center of attention.”

“I know. Isn't it absurd?”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

Ty took a long drink, then squared up his cocktail napkin before placing the bottle dead center. He reached over and tucked my hair behind my ear, then outlined my lips with his finger. He smiled, just him to me.

“I think you said yes. I think you'll be wonderful.”

I smiled back, just me to him. “Ah, shucks, you're just saying that.”

“No, I'm not. I've always known you were a star.”

I touched his cheek. “I love you, Ty.”

“I love you, too, Josie.”

I started laughing again. “Can you imagine? Me on TV?”

Timothy reappeared, a legal-sized envelope in hand. “Yes, darlin'! I can.”

Timothy and I shook on the deal; then Ty and I started exchanging ideas for the show. A perfect end to a perfect day.

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to G. D. Peters and Steve Shulman for their assistance with this novel.

Special thanks go to my literary agent, Cristina Concepcion, of Don Congdon Associates, Inc. Thanks also go to Michael Congdon, Katie Kotchman, and Katie Grimm.

The Minotaur Books team also gets special thanks, especially those I work with most closely, including executive editor Hope Dellon; assistant editor Silissa Kenney; publicist Sarah Melnyk; director of library marketing and national accounts manager (Macmillan) Talia Ross; copyeditor India Cooper; and jacket designer David Baldeosingh Rotstein.

 

O
THER
J
OSIE
P
RESCOTT
A
NTIQUES
M
YSTERIES BY
J
ANE
K. C
LELAND

 

Lethal Treasure

Dolled Up for Murder

Deadly Threads

Silent Auction

Killer Keepsakes

Antiques to Die For

Deadly Appraisal

Consigned to Death

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jane K. Cleland
once owned a New Hampshire–based antiques and rare-books business. She is the author of nine Josie Prescott Antiques mysteries. She has been nominated for the Macavity, Anthony, and Agatha awards, and she has twice won the David Award for Best Novel. Jane is the former president of the New York chapter of the Mystery Writers of America and is the chair of the Wolfe Pack's Black Orchid Novella Award in partnership with
Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine.
Jane also hosts
The Writers Room,
a series of television interviews airing on cable and online. She is part of the English faculty at Lehman College, City University of New York, and lives in New York
City with her husband.

 

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

BLOOD RUBIES.
Copyright © 2014 by Jane K. Cleland. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

 

www.minotaurbooks.com

 

Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein

 

Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher

 

eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

 

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

 

ISBN 978-1-250-05413-5 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4668-5715-5 (e-book)

 

e-ISBN 9781466857155

 

First Edition: December 2014