Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“That’s good condition?”
“Well, it can’t be mint, right? Not unless someone bought it and put it away. But back then, you wouldn’t. It’s made of cast iron. You bought it and used it.”
“And now?”
She shrugged. “Now, if you’re into antique metal art, like I am, or cast iron, or you collect vintage incense burners, you’re going to want this.”
“Do you want it?”
“I have this pagoda one,” she informed me. “And mine is nicer than this, and I only paid, like, thirty-six dollars for it.”
“How?”
Slipping one of the ear loops off, she smiled at me, which made her big brown eyes glitter and her dimples pop. Easy to get the picture. “That’s not fair.”
Righting the mask, I heard her cackle behind it. “I would never underpay for anything of quality. That’s bad karma,” she insisted, “but it’s still a piece of cast iron. The first one I ever got, Nana had in her attic. It was with her mom’s stuff that she never went through.”
I nodded.
“So sometimes it’s super cool, but you really shouldn’t pay an arm and a leg for it.”
“Unless it’s for charity.”
“That’s correct,” she assured me, moving to the next item.
Stepping back, I watched as she held court. Women and men older than her came and asked her questions. She wasn’t going to be the auctioneer; instead she was making sure everything was going to run smoothly.
“Kage,” a snide voice behind me said.
Turning, I saw a young man, probably about the same age as Kola, arms crossed, head tipped, eyeing Hannah.
Her groan was long and loud.
“Why are you even bothering with these trinkets?” he asked, sounding irritable, brushing by me to reach my daughter, stepping in close. “We both know the malas from our private collection are going to be what actually sells.”
I saw her left eye twitch just like Sam’s did when he was annoyed. Yes, nature was a thing. But both my kids had so many of both my husband’s and my tics and traits that no one could ever argue that we’d raised them. “Probably,” she agreed, her voice calm, even though her eyes were murderous. “But for those who still want to help that can’t quite afford a thousand-to-three-thousand-dollar mala, this gives them a way to participate.”
He squinted at her and started to slip his mask off one ear.
“Back up six feet before you do that.”
Walking backward, not checking to see if there was anyone behind him, when he was far enough away, he removed the mask and a young man I thought was handsome was actually quite stunning. He could have been an actor or a model with a face like that, but clearly his looks had no effect on my child. When he crossed his arms, still glaring at her, I saw how she looked back at him, as though she were bored out of her mind.
“If you would have just allowed us to sponsor the auction, we would have donated the malas—and we both know you’re dying to get your hands on the citrine and pyrite one—and then they would be far more affordable.”
“For people like me,” she goaded him.
He actually growled at her. “That’s not what I said.”
“It was insinuated,” she snapped.
“The hell it was!”
A noise of sheer disgust came from her throat before she spun around, put her arm through mine, and led me toward the next pedestal.
Moving quickly, he barred our path, having slipped the loop back over his ear so he was masked again. “Hello, sir, I’m David Chan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harcourt.”
I smiled at him behind my mask before I turned to look at Hannah. “You should introduce me to your friends.”
Her left eye twitched again.
“Hannah!” We both turned to see a stunning and stately woman come rushing up to my daughter, who stepped around me to greet her. I’d never seen a Chanel mask in real life.
They grasped hands, both of them wearing the same lint-free white cotton gloves. Clearly, this woman had something to do with the auction as well. “How are you, my dear?”
“I’m good, Mrs. Chan, and I hope your family is as well. Please allow me to introduce my father.”
The matriarch of the Chan family was thrilled to meet me.
“Hannah has such a keen eye for quality,” she informed me as Hannah walked away with David following. I didn’t miss the many beautiful girls he passed, without a glance, to keep pace with her. “Last year a jeweler in Antwerp sold me a pair of sapphire-and-pearl drop earrings. When I saw your daughter at a benefit in November, she suggested that I have them appraised, as they should have been far heavier, tugging on my lobe just a bit, even being pearls. She was right, of course.”
I nodded.
She turned her head to look at David and Hannah. His arms were crossed as he talked to her, his scowl making him look like he had a unibrow. Hannah was doing her best to ignore him as he followed her from pedestal to pedestal, finally lifting her head to meet his gaze when he took gentle hold of her shoulder and turned her around to face him.