“Okay,” Char said slowly.
“Come on. Be happy for me. This is huge.”
“I know. I just find it a bit suspicious. When are you leaving?”
“This afternoon. I start tomorrow bright and early. I want to get there and get settled in. I’d better go pack.”
Darcy bolted up the stairs and began filling up her suitcase with suits and dress shirts and practical pumps.
“Don’t forget pajamas and toiletries,” Char offered from the doorway.
“Got it,” Darcy replied.
“Promise me you’ll be careful?”
“Of course. I’ll call you from the hotel. I should be back in a couple days. I’m sure you’ll make the best of my absence.”
Char looked unsettled.
“You know I think you’ve watched too many episodes of Dateline,” Darcy teased. She walked into the bathroom, stuffed her arms full of shampoo and makeup, unceremoniously dumped the heap into her bag, and zipped it closed.
“Help me put this in my car. You’ll be okay with only John for transportation?”
“I’m sure. He’s been my ride nearly every day since we’ve arrived anyway,” Char said with a shrug.
The pair each grabbed one side of the bag and lifted it downstairs. Darcy left it by the front door and walked around the main floor, grabbing her workbag and filling it with her supplies as she went.
“What are you up to for the rest of the day?”
“I think we’re going over to Bayfield for dinner. I came back to invite you, actually. Ben is coming.”
“Ha. Because that worked out so well the last time you and John tried it.”
“Tried what?” Char feigned ignorance.
“Tried to set us up on a double date.”
“I think you two could hit it off.”
“Char, stop. He’s . . .” Darcy paused in midthought.
“He’s what?”
“I could be interested. I probably am interested,” Darcy admitted. “But he isn’t. So it doesn’t matter, right?”
“I think he’s interested.”
“Based on what?”
“I don’t know. The way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him.”
“Yeah, I doubt it Char. That’s okay. I’m not here trying to find love. Please go and enjoy yourself and have a lovely evening of conversation with whatever rocket scientist or future Nobel laureate Ben picks up today.”
“He apologized to me about that.”
Darcy had no response. She finished throwing everything she could find into her bag, grabbed her purse off the counter, and walked to the door.
“I’m off. Have fun, but if you need me, call. I’ll come back.”
“I’ll be fine,” Char assured her. “I’m heading upstairs for a nap. Call me when you get in.”
“Bye,” Darcy called as she walked out the door.
She threw her suitcase in the backseat and her bag and purse next to her in the passenger seat. She turned the key in the ignition and was just backing up when Ben knocked on her window. She put the car back in park and rolled down the window.
“Hi, what’s up?” she asked.
“Are you going somewhere?” he asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, I got a call for work. I’ll be out of town for a few days.”
“Oh.”
“Why?”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to . . .”
“To . . .”
“Get dinner,” he finished.
“You want me to get dinner? With you?” Her surprise verged on rudeness.
“Yeah.”
“Just the two of us, or are you bringing a date,” she teased.
“Ha, just the two of us. You’d be the date.”
Darcy’s heartbeat began to pound in her ears. Excitement, anxiety, frustration with the timing, and confusion all threatened to make her sick. She’d dismissed Char’s words the moment she’d heard them, but maybe there had been some truth.
“I can’t. I’m going out of town.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that. Rain check?”
“Okay, sure.”
“Have a safe trip.”
“Yeah, thanks. Bye.”
Darcy watched him walk behind her car and back into his house. She took a few steadying breaths, trying to get her nerves under control. She’d wanted him to ask her out, but when he finally did, she’d been overwhelmed. At least she now had a few days to think about it, although the anticipation threatened her ability to concentrate or sleep.
The ferry ride and drive to Duluth passed by without Darcy noticing. She had too much on her mind. Her physical attraction to Ben was undeniable, but her decided lack of experience unsettled her. What did a guy like Ben expect?
- # -
“Hello, Mrs. Hampton?” Darcy asked the middle-aged lady in scrubs who appeared before her the next morning.
“No, no. I’m her nurse. Please wait one moment,” the lady responded kindly but quickly. She shut the door before Darcy could interject.
After a few more minutes waiting on the porch of the grand Victorian home, the door opened to a slim, petite blonde lady. Her elegance struck Darcy immediately. She smiled and extended her hand to Darcy. Darcy was struck with déjà vu. She knew she’d never met the lady before. She’d remember her, but somehow she seemed familiar.
“Please come in. I’m sorry to keep you on the porch. Unfortunately, I’ve taken to living on the first floor,” Mrs. Hampton apologized, dismissively waving her hand to indicate a parlor to one side.
“Let’s go to the dining room and talk. I’ve never done anything like this before. I have a lot of questions, I’m afraid.”
“Not at all,” Darcy smiled, finally finding her voice again.
Darcy followed Mrs. Hampton through a bright and sunny modern kitchen to a formal dining room. The period Queen Anne mahogany table and chairs gleamed in the sunlight that filtered in through four windows that overlooked a formal garden of trimmed boxwoods. The table had been set for service with Sevres china and crystal on a delicate tapestry tablecloth. Darcy restrained herself from swooning. She couldn’t wait to get started looking at everything.
“I guess I don’t know where to start,” Mrs. Hampton began expectantly.
Darcy smiled; glad for the professionalism trained into her that kept her from fawning over the property.
“Sure. I’ll take photographs, measurements, and write descriptions of what you would like to sell. This can take a while, and you are more than welcome to sit in the room with me as I work,” Darcy noted the ever so slight relaxation of Mrs. Hampton’s shoulders. Having a stranger in your home, touching your things, even when you’d requested their presence, was overwhelming.
“After I leave, I’ll research what comparable items are selling for in the current market, and I’ll put together a formal appraisal for you. It will be divided by each room and will have photographs of each item with its description. The description is what will appear in the catalog, but each item will be professionally photographed in the studio at the auction house. You can decide based on the appraisal what you would like to sell. There is no obligation to sell and there is no cost to you, no matter what you decide.”
“How do you get paid?”
“The auction house gets paid a premium by both the seller and the buyer. It’s typically on a sliding scale. The auction house will charge a higher premium on a lower value item. But for a big estate, we typically charge the same percentage on each item. The percentage is determined by the final sale price. There is also a charge for catalog photographs, although again that fee is typically waived for large estates.”
Mrs. Hampton nodded thoughtfully for a moment. Darcy resisted the urge to squirm and look unsettled. Her nerves could destroy the entire opportunity. She took great pains to keep her smile on her face and to breathe normally.
“Why should I sell with an auction house? Why shouldn’t I try to sell on my own or to a dealer?”
“Selling with an auction house gives you the most exposure. Instead of selling to one dealer, you are getting dealers and private collectors all over the world to compete for your property. All of our auctions are conducted simultaneously online and live. We produce both print catalogs and digital catalogs of our sales and get those out to potential buyers at least two months before a sale, to build interest.”
Mrs. Hampton nodded. “I think that answers all of my questions.”
Darcy reached into her workbag and pulled out her card. “Let me give you this before I forget. Please call or e-mail me if you have any questions. Don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you. I’ll probably take you up on that,” Mrs. Hampton said with a grin.
“Please do.”
“Well, there is a lot to see, so I guess we’d better get started.”
“What are you interested in selling?”
Mrs. Hampton waved her arms around her head. “Everything.”
Darcy’s eyes grew large momentarily. “I should mention any provenance or history of an item is important. If something had been purchased from a well-known dealer or antique store or auction, that can add value to a piece.”
“Really?”
“We had a sale of a collector’s property, and there were actually bidders who had lost out on some of the Chinese vases the first time they’d sold thirty years before. Those collectors had waited to see the vases again.”
“Wow. I can dig up history on some things that I’ve purchased, but a lot of these have been family heirlooms.”
“Do you think you could walk me through each room? Please tell me what you call each room, so that I can keep the names consistent on the appraisal. And please point out anything of significant importance.”
Mrs. Hampton nodded and led Darcy back to the front hall. They began their tour of the home, Darcy quickly jotting down as much as Mrs. Hampton told her as she followed the older lady from room to room. After two hours, they’d finally toured the entire home and had returned to the entryway. Mrs. Hampton looked exhausted.
“If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll go out and get a bite to eat, and come back in an hour or so?” Darcy asked.
She didn’t want to further exhaust the lady or insist that she rest. But despite her otherwise normal appearance, the lady lived with a nurse on the main floor of her home. Mrs. Hampton wasn’t well. Darcy had learned circumspection from her job.
Mrs. Hampton nodded. “I think that would be a good idea. If I’m asleep when you get back, please start in the library and work forward on the main floor.”
“Of course. And I’ve blocked off tomorrow as well. I can take my time, there is no rush.”
Mrs. Hampton attempted to smile. Her nurse walked up to help the lady back to her bed. Darcy saw herself out, found a coffee shop, and had a quick bite to eat. Her anticipation only grew. She forced herself to play games on her phone and idle around the Internet for forty minutes before getting back in her car.
Darcy pulled in front of the grand home and took her time gathering her things. She had opened her door when her phone rang. Darcy sighed when she saw who it was.
“Hello?”
“Darcy, hi. It’s Joanne. How’s it going?” Darcy’s boss said in a nervous rush.
“Good, I think. It’s a big project. I’ll be here for a couple days, and it’ll take me at least three to pull everything together.”
“No, two.”
“Joanne, come on, I’m pushing it at three.”
“Darcy, we can’t lose this. I don’t mean to pressure you. But I have to pressure you.”
Darcy’s heart began to race. She’d enjoyed three glorious weeks of working on her terms at a more normal pace. She’d forgotten the stress of her job. The anxiety of working in a crowded, open-plan office with phones ringing at all hours and clients walking in without appointments.
“If you don’t land this . . .” Joanne told her ominously, then let the statement hang in the air between them.
“What? If I don’t land this, then what? Say it Joanne.”
“No, you know.”
“No, say it,” Darcy dared.
She’d grown tired of the emotional mind games and the ridiculous passive aggressive behavior. Maybe Joanne thought her tactics were motivating from whatever online business course she’d taken. But she was wrong, and the turnover rate of the company should be proof enough.
“You’ll be fired. You have tomorrow and then two more days. If you secure this sale, you’ll be rewarded. If you lose it, you’re done.”
“Thanks. I’ll send you a copy of the appraisal when I’m done,” Darcy told her boss, and then hung up without further comment.
She took in a few deep, steadying breaths, then got out of her car and got back to work. Darcy spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening working on the main floor. Mrs. Hampton joined her for as long as she could manage. She’d read and occasionally ask Darcy a question or answer one of Darcy’s. The day passed smoothly after the threat from Darcy’s boss. Darcy managed to work through most of the house, saving the dining room and library for the following day.
Darcy thanked Mrs. Hampton and headed back to her hotel for the night. She ordered room service and drew a bath the moment she returned to her room, too tired to even think of doing anything else. Her phone rang as she sank into the deep tub and submerged herself under the bubbles. Darcy ignored the ringing as best she could, but after the third repeat call, she got out of the tub, put on a robe, and answered.
“Hello?”
“Darcy, great. You answered. Where’s the corkscrew?”
“Char,” Darcy sighed. “Really? You called three times in a row to ask me that?”
“Um, no . . . I mean, not just that. How’s it going?”
A knock sounded at her door. “Hold on a moment.”
Darcy let the waiter push the cart inside and close the door behind him before continuing.
“The house is fantastic. It’s stunning and old, and I’ve only read about half the things I’m seeing in person.”
“But?”
“I got a threat from my boss today.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yeah. I’m feeling pretty awful about that.”
“Maybe it’s time to leave.”
“I knew you’d say that. If I leave, then what? What will I do? What kind of reference can I expect?”
“I have no idea. But there has to be something better than this.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I know. It’s just . . . it’s hard. I’ve put in so much time and effort and I love what I do . . .”
“But you’re not supported,” Char finished. It had been Darcy’s refrain for the three years she’d been employed.
“So how’s it going with you?”
“Good, it’s nice. I’m bringing a bottle to dinner, but I guess Ben says I need to bring my own corkscrew too.”
“Ben says? Is he going with you?”
“Yep. I think he wants a do-over. I had that bad impression of him the first time, and then he was a jerk on the boat. We’re calling a momentary truce.”
“I didn’t realize you were at war.”
“We’re not. You know what I mean. I like John, I do. It’d be nice if Ben and I got along. It would make life easier.”
“Yeah, so, is this a double date?”
“Hmm. I don’t think so. Ben didn’t say anything to me. Why?”
“No reason.”
“Uh huh. Darcy, tell me the truth, why?”
“He asked me out to dinner.”
“He did? That’s great!”
“Is it?”
“How do you feel about him?”
“I don’t know. Nervous? Anxious? I like him but . . . I don’t think I’m what he expects.”
“Maybe that’s good,” Char offered helpfully. “Oh wait, I see them at the back door. Darcy, I’ve got to go. I promise I’ll let you know anything important that might come up tonight. Call me when you’re
on the road tomorrow.”
“Char, please don’t be obvious.”
“Give me a little credit. I am practically a lawyer.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”
She hung up the phone, ate a burger and fries in bed, watched a mindless hour of reality TV, and then passed out. She didn’t sleep as well as she had on Madeline Island. Without her cool summer breeze wafting in through the balcony, Darcy found herself waking up every few hours to adjust the thermostat. Morning came sooner than she would have liked, but after several cups of strong coffee, Darcy felt ready to face the day.
The nurse let her in as Mrs. Hampton finished getting ready. Darcy waited at the dining room table, excited to spend the day sorting through Mrs. Hampton’s family silver. Sterling silver had quickly become Darcy’s favorite area of study. As it had always been valued as a commodity, silver had always been kept in good care and passed down from generation to generation. Even in the most humble settings, she’d find antique sterling with family stories to cherish.
Mrs. Hampton appeared within a few minutes of Darcy’s arrival. She struck Darcy as frail that day. She seemed smaller, more fragile. Darcy was glad to have only a few hours, at most, of work ahead of her. She didn’t want to add any more stress to the lady’s situation.
“Shall we begin?” Mrs. Hampton asked Darcy.
“Please,” she responded with her warmest smile.
Mrs. Hampton pulled out a delicate brass key from her pocket and unlocked the two sideboards and a pair of built-in corner cabinets. As Mrs. Hampton opened each door and drawer that had been hidden from sight, Darcy stifled her sighs. The room sparkled as Mrs. Hampton uncovered urns, salts, samovars, vases, goblets, utensils, and more and placed them delicately on the table. For several hours, they worked in tandem. Darcy quickly taking her notes and photographs before Mrs. Hampton would put the items away and refill the table with more. At length, after a series of stunning Tiffany & Co. tea services, Mrs. Hampton put away the last creamer and locked the final door.
“I think that’s everything,” Mrs. Hampton told her with a smile.
“Thank you so much for letting me into your home, Mrs. Hampton. This has truly been a wonderful experience for me.”
Tiny Island Summer Page 7