“Lucas, my dear, so glad you made it,” Deidre exclaims kissing Lucas on both cheeks. I have to stifle a laugh at her over-blown greeting. Lucas doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so maybe Deidre’s pretension is her usual demeanor. The woman before me bears little resemblance to Crystal’s mom I remember from childhood. Maybe losing her daughter damaged her.
The thought makes me instantly contrite. This woman has been through more than I ever hope to endure. If she wants to be dramatic, let her.
"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Hartley," I say sweetly, even though she hasn't acknowledged my existence.
Her eyes flitter over me, a quick assessing look at my dress, her eyes lingering on my gloves. Her lips purse for a beat and she replies, “Gabby.”
She quickly turns her attention back to Lucas, wrapping herself around his arm. “I have so many people who want to see you,” she says brightly, steering Lucas away. He has no choice but to drop my hand and go with his mom. He looks over his shoulder and mouths, “Sorry.”
"Deidre lives for showing him off," Gregor says suddenly near my elbow.
“I don’t blame her,” I say evenly fighting an absurd stab of jealousy.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks. “Holding something in your hands helps with nerves at a social function. Gives you something to do to expel the build-up of energy.”
Heat rises on the back of my neck, remembering Lucas' comments earlier about drinking alcohol. "I'd love a soda."
Gregor leads me towards the bar in the corner and orders a Pepsi. It’s served in a heavy glass. Even the drinks are better dressed than I am.
The carbonation in the soda tingles my nose as I take nervous sip after sip. “See,” Gregor says, “Expels your nervous energy.”
“Who says I’m nervous?” I try for casual confidence, but can’t keep a straight face.
“I come to this dumb thing every year and I’m nervous. Rather be home walking Maverick or in my study.”
“If you’re not into all this, why do you do it?” I catch sight of Lucas across the room, talking to an older couple with his mom. He feels my eyes on him and turns to give me a smile across the room.
Gregor sees the interaction. “We do things we don’t want to do for those we love,” he says, nodding to Lucas.
“Why does Deidre do it? I surprised she’d come this year, after….”
“She loves the cars, the people, the money around her. She has quite a collection of her own at home."
“Lucas was telling me about it on the way over here.”
"She buys and sells cars at the auction. It's just a way to hob-nob with the bigwigs. A lot of famous people come to that car auction. It's world-famous. Buyers from all over the world purchase and sell there. The actual auction is really interesting. The psychology of buying at auction is fascinating to watch.”
I take a large drink of my soda, prepared to listen to another lecture Gregor can't stop himself from giving. "Uh-huh," I grunt, scanning the crowd for Lucas again. Deidre's steered him away from the older couple and has him surrounded by three middle-aged men in flashy suits.
“New money,” Gregor says following my line of sight and abandoning his dissertation on auction psychology. "Newcomers to the auction scene here. Deidre always pays the new ones close attention. Keeps them coming back.”
Gregor means well, but I came here to spend time with Lucas, not make small talk with his dad. As I watch, Deidre flicks a look over her shoulder at me, her eyes narrowed and her smile almost genuine.
I see you.
“Excuse me,” I say to Gregor, sitting my empty glass on the bar. “I’m going to claim my date.”
Gregor chuckles. “You’ve got spunk, girl. I see why he likes you so much.”
I sail calmly through the crowd to Lucas. He sees me approaching and his smile brightens. “Gentlemen, this is Gabby McAllister, my date.”
Shoving between Deidre and Lucas, I wrap myself around his arm the way she did earlier. "So nice to meet you," I say so politely, Grandma Dot would beam with pride. "Lucas, dear, could you come with me, please?" My tone sounds eerily similar to the one Deidre used earlier.
Lucas follows me easily. "Thanks for saving me," he whispers.
“That’s just that psychic woman you’ve seen on the news,” I overhear Deidre saying to the men.
I want to turn around and defend myself. I want to tell Lucas his mom’s a phony and a flake. I want to drag him out of here and back to River Bend.
“Can we go look at the cars on display?” I ask instead. “This place is so beautiful. I’d love to look around before dinner.”
“Beautiful and romantic,” Lucas says. “Want to re-enact the car scene in Titanic?”
A genuine, full-hearted laugh tumbles out of me. “You’re awful,” I say pushing myself into his side as he leads me to the museum.
“That wasn’t a no,” he teases.
Chapter 21
Gabby
The cars at the museum are beautiful, but Lucas captures all my attention. Strolling hand in hand past the expensive vehicles, I listen to the deep timbre of Lucas’ voice and the soft music playing overhead. Other guests admire the cars, drifting past the softly lit displays in their elegant attire.
If I squint, I can imagine we are somewhere exotic, not in small-town Indiana. But magic can happen anywhere, and the space between our bodies as we walk is bursting with magic.
The overhead tone announcing dinner breaks the spell.
A mixture of dread and sympathy fills me as we approach our table where Deidre holds court over Gregor and two other couples. I want to like this woman. She gave birth to the amazing man at my side. Lucas obviously dotes on her. I search her face as she entertains the other guests with some story and the guests laugh along. Maybe her smile isn't fake, maybe her over-the-top ways hide deep self-doubt.
Maybe she doesn’t know how to act or who to be now that she knows her daughter was murdered.
Sympathy wins over the dread and I greet her warmly as I take the seat Lucas pulls out for me. "Deidre, the cars in this museum are so amazing," I gush. "I can see why you're so interested in all this."
Deidre blinks at me twice, calculating a response. I keep a smile plastered to my face. I need this woman to like me.
“You’re sweet,” she says graciously and introduces me to the other couples. “This is Gabby McAllister and you all know my son, Lucas.”
“Gabby is the woman who found our daughter,” Gregor supplies.
An older gentleman opens his mouth to ask the inevitable questions. Deidre cuts him off. “Let’s not talk about that tonight,” she says firmly. “I love that dress,” she says to me, the smallest barb lurking under the simple words.
I give her the response she craves, “Not nearly as lovely as yours. Where did you get it?”
“Yes, where did you find such an amazing concoction,” one of the other women jumps into the conversation.
Lucas sneaks me a sideways glance and the barest of eye rolls as Deidre regales them with details of her shopping trip to Chicago. I relax into my seat and let their inane conversation fade into background noise.
By the time dessert is served on delicate china plates, I’m more than ready to leave the party. Polite small talk over linen table cloths and fancy place settings feels like a waste of time with Lucas so close and handsome.
His warm hand lands on my bare thigh, hidden under the table. “You look nervous again.” He leans close to so only I can hear. “Do you need me to fix that?”
My lips begin to tingle at the suggestion. I push them together and lean closer to Lucas.
“That’s an interesting tattoo,” the same older gentleman that wanted to ask me about finding Crystal says suddenly.
I snap up straight in my chair like a child caught sneaking an extra dessert. On reflex, I cover the tattoo with my hand. Six pairs of eyes are focused on me now. Deidre’s chair is empty. I’d been so intent on Lucas I hadn’t noticed he
r departure.
“Thank you?” I try to keep the question out of the words, but fail.
"Does it signify anything?" Gregor asks. "Oftentimes, people get important symbols tattooed on themselves to commemorate events or beliefs."
If they only knew.
“Just the usual things a cross signifies,” I reply vaguely.
To my horror, the tattoo begins to tingle. I ignore it, hoping it’s just a reaction to the attention.
The first man flicks a quick look over his shoulder then asks, "How do you do what you do? How did you find…?" He snaps his mouth shut, realizing too late that Deidre may be gone, but Gregor and Lucas might not appreciate the question.
Below my hand, the tattoo burns.
Bathroom.
Not now, not now, I silently beg, pushing harder at the tattoo.
“Gabby just senses things,” Lucas comes to my rescue. “She sees things when she touches them.”
“What kinds of things?” one of the women asks. Everyone at the table leans closer, curious.
I can’t focus on the question. One word pounds in my head.
Bathroom.
Deidre returns to the table, saving me from answering. "Took care of that," she exclaims as she retakes her seat. The man who started this line of questioning looks crushed at losing his opportunity.
"You can make an appointment at my shop and I can show you if you like," I say as politely as possible with the pain in my arm growing. I look desperately at Lucas, "I need to use the restroom," I manage to get out before grabbing my purse and fleeing the table.
“I’ll do that,” I hear the man call after me.
Bracing myself for what I will find in the bathroom, I pause at the swinging door and take a deep breath. "Lord let me do what you need me to do." I push on the door and it swings inward.
The bathroom is empty except for a red-head leaning on both hands against the granite counter. Her sniffling fills the expertly decorated room. Noticing my arrival, she stands up quickly and turns on the water.
I recognize her reflection. Vee Markle, the bartender from my party and the owner of the catering company at this event.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently.
“I’m fine,” she lies, then busies herself with washing her hands and surreptitiously wiping tears from under her eyes. I hand her a paper towel to dry her face.
“You don’t look fine.”
Vee looks into the mirror and recognizes me. “Oh crap,” she says under her breath. "Guess I can't fool you, of all people."
I don’t know how to answer that, so I let her continue, watching her intently in the reflection.
“It’s just his job.” She waves her arm towards the door. “Lane loves doing this catering thing, but I hate it. These rich snobs suck.”
Her childish manner makes me smile. “Did something happen?”
A faraway look crosses her face. “Just the usual. I should be used to it by now,” she says cryptically.
“If you don’t like catering, why do you do it?” I don’t know what else to ask.
A bark of rueful laughter fills the room. “Why do you think? Money. Never enough of that." She balls up the paper towel and tosses it in the trash.
“Did you know Lucy Reed?”
Vee freezes, her arm still raised from throwing the paper towel.
“I heard you and some other people hung out a lot together in high school,” I prompt.
“We did.” She drops her arm. “In high school.”
“Were you still close?”
She takes a step towards the door. “Not really.”
I step closer. “Do you know she was murdered?”
Vee’s face blanches and she makes a small sound of surprise. “She died in an accident,” she protests.
“She was murdered.” I step towards her again, watching her reactions intently. “Do you know anything about that?”
Surprise, confusion and fear flitter across her face. I’m looking for guilt, but fear wins out. “I don’t know anything.” She looks to the door, gauging the distance. “I have to go. Lane will need me.”
“Do you collect coins, Vee?”
She ignores the question and rushes out of the bathroom.
The door swings back and forth a few times, then settles closed.
I use the restroom and wash my hands, replaying the encounter in my head, looking for something useful. Vee didn't really say anything.
“At least she’s not crying right now,” I say to my reflection. As I retrieve my gloves from my purse, I hear my phone vibrating. It's Haley. I answer, excited for news.
“I hate to bother you on your hot date, but I thought you’d want to hear what I found out,” she says.
“You work fast,” I say, impressed.
“You hired the best,” she laughs. “How’s the hot detective?”
“Your information?” I prod her back on track.
“Fine, keep all the juicy details to yourself. I have some more digging to do, but so far, many of the coins you sent me info on are reported stolen. Some from that museum theft years ago, some others from various home invasions.”
"That's what I figured." I rub stray dribbles of water off the granite countertop.
“What you didn’t figure out was that a man in Spain was arrested several years ago, mostly white-collar stuff.”
“Okay? I don’t see the connection.”
“When they raided his house, well more of a compound actually, but anyway, they found a bunch of these stolen coins at his house.”
“The same coins Lucy had?”
“Yep. And this is why I’m interrupting your romantic interlude, this guy also had quite a car collection. Did you know there was a fancy car company in Auburn back in the early 1900’s?”
“I’m at that museum right now,” I point out. “I was just looking at some Auburns.”
“Auburns are really rare cars and super expensive. This guy had several of them as well as a bunch of other cars.”
I pause in my wiping of the counter. “An antique car collector in Spain? How did he get them?”
“That’s the super-sleuthing part I had to do. He bought them at the auction where you are."
My mind reels with the information. “What does a guy in Spain have to do with Lucy and with Crystal for that matter?”
“I’m just the tech girl, you’re the detective.”
“I’m not a detective,” I point out.
“Well, your boyfriend is.”
The swinging door to the bathroom moves slightly, but remains closed. I stare at the door as I ask. “What’s this guy in Spain’s name?”
“Ferdinand Gomez. Sounds mysterious, doesn’t it?”
“Ferdinand Gomez,” I repeat. “All of this is mysterious.”
“Never a dull moment with you, Gabby,” Haley says happily. “Worry about all this later and enjoy your date.”
I turn the water on and off, thinking. “I will. Thanks, Haley.”
I return the phone to my purse and put my gloves back on. “Ferdinand Gomez, who are you?” I ask my reflection.
Distracted, I push the door open hard and run into Deidre. She jumps back, startled. I laugh nervously, “Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No worries, dear,” she replies. “Are you having a nice time tonight?”
A quick glance down the hall confirms we are alone. “Deidre, can I ask you a serious question?”
The forced smile returns to her face, “You can ask me anything.”
“Are you upset I’m dating Lucas?”
My honesty shakes her, but she composes herself quickly. “I love my son,” she says simply.
“But are you upset about me?” I push.
“You make him happy.”
She hasn’t answered my question, but I accept the small olive branch. “He makes me very happy, too.”
For her, the matter is settled, and she pushes past me to the bathroom door, the flowing white drape
s of her dress trailing behind her.
The circle of eager faces at the table watch me return. Lucas stands to pull out my chair. I don’t sit down, but lean close and ask. “Would it be rude to leave now?”
Lucas looks around the room, “Dinner's over and they’re just finishing up with the silent auction items. I suppose we can sneak out.”
I soften my request with a flirty, “I haven’t had any wine at all.”
My suggestion lights his desire to get me home and he readily agrees.
After a few departure pleasantries to the table, Lucas intercepts Deidre and says his good-byes. I wait politely nearby, anxious to escape.
We finally leave the museum and step out into the cold night. The sky above is clear, the stars glittering like cold diamonds in the black. The magic returns to the space between our sides as we hurry to his car.
He opens my door for me and I climb in, the leather upholstery cold against the backs of my bare legs.
“You didn’t seem to get too nervous,” he says. “I never got the change to kiss your nerves away.”
“I’m a little nervous now,” I tease.
He takes the bait and leans to me, only brushes his lips against mine in a promise of more to come.
“Will you take me home?” I ask breathlessly.
He eagerly agrees and starts the engine. The magic fills the entire inside of his car as I lean my head against his shoulder. We drive home wordlessly, his hand possessively on my thigh, his fingers pressing against my flesh.
Chapter 22
Lucas
The chill on Gabby’s bare skin quickly fades as I caress her thigh on the drive home. She leans her head against my shoulder and her curls tickle my cheek. I want to stay like this forever with her, but am also eager for the promise of more once we reach her house.
“You handled tonight very well,” I say. “I know my mom can be a bit much. Especially in the last few days."
She moans um-uh and tucks closer against me.
“My dad can go on and on. He forgets we’re not all psychology students.” I don’t know why I feel the need to apologize for my parents, Gabby apparently didn’t mind their eccentricities. Her snuggled pose proves she forgives me for them.
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