Wish 01 - A Secret Wish (16 page)

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“Is it possible that this dragon was actually crafted during the Zhou dynasty?” Paige Hathaway asked her father, David, as she froze the frame on the videotape one of their scouts had sent over from
Antiques on the Road
. If anyone could date the piece, it was her father, the head buyer for the House of Hathaway and their resident expert on Chinese art.

“It's possible,” he said, a note of excitement in his voice and a glitter of anticipation in his eyes as he moved closer to the screen. “I wish I could see it better. That man keeps getting in my way. They really should make the object clearly visible to the camera.”

The man her father was referring to was a tall, ruggedly built guy in a black leather jacket, who had started out looking uncomfortable in front of the camera and now appeared completely amazed and very, very skeptical. He was a striking contrast to the sweet, sparkling old lady he called Grandma, who seemed more than a little thrilled at the thought of her good fortune. And it might be incredibly good fortune if her father was right about the age of the object.

“Why hasn't she called us?” her father asked in irritation. “Are you sure you told her it was imperative we speak with her today?”

“On both messages that I left,” Paige reassured him. “I'm sure she'll call back.” Although, as Paige checked her watch, she realized it was almost six o'clock. “Maybe not until tomorrow.”

“This can't wait until tomorrow. I must have that dragon.”

David paced restlessly around Paige's fifth-floor office. The room was decorated with simple, beautiful Chinese furnishings that were meant to relax and inspire. The calming atmosphere was obviously having no such effect on her father.

“Do you realize what a find this could be?” he continued. “The Zhou dynasty is estimated to have begun around the year 1050 B.C. This could be a very early bronze. That dragon must have an incredible story to tell.”

“I can't wait to hear you tell it,” she murmured. She liked her father the most at moments like these, when there was passion in his eyes, in his voice, in his heart.

“I can't tell the story until I see that dragon, until I hold it in my hand, measure its weight, listen to its voice, feel its magic.” David walked over to the window that overlooked Union Square. Paige doubted he was looking at the city lights. He was caught up in the pursuit of a new acquisition. When that happened, nothing else mattered to him. He was completely focused on his goal.

And, for the first time, he'd included her. Usually, acquisitions went through preliminary calls made by his assistant buyers, depending on the type of piece and area of expertise. If they deemed the object of interest, they would call in her father. But this time, he'd come straight to her, asking her to call Mrs. Delaney. She couldn't help wondering why, but she wasn't inclined to ask. If he wanted her involved, then she'd be involved.

She smiled as he ran a restless hand through his wavy brown hair, messing it up. It drove her mother, Victoria, crazy that her husband often looked as creased as the dollar bills he stuffed into his pockets, instead of in the expensive wallet she'd given him for his fifty-fifth birthday several months earlier. But that was David Hathaway, a little bit rumpled, often impulsive, and always interesting. Sometimes Paige wished she was more like him. But, despite having inherited her father's dark brown eyes, she was more her mother's daughter. Maybe if he'd spent more time at home, if he'd taught her the things he knew instead of leaving her education up to her mother, if he'd loved her as much as he'd loved China...

No, she wouldn't go there. She wouldn't be jealous of an entire country. That was ridiculous, and Hathaways were never ridiculous or anything else that was less than perfect.

Her grandfather and her mother had instructed her every day of her life to sit up straight, be responsible, never show emotion, never lose control. The lessons of a lifetime still ran through her head like an irritating song, one she couldn't ignore. Her impeccably neat office reflected those lessons, replicating the atmosphere in which she had grown up, one of sophistication, money, culture, and coldness. Even now, she felt a chill run down her arms that had nothing to do with the cool February weather and everything to do with her family.

Maybe if her sister, Elizabeth, had lived, things would have been different. She wouldn't have had to bear the burden of expectations, especially those of her mother and her grandfather, who looked to her as the only Hathaway heir upon whom all responsibilities would one day fall. Paige felt guilty at the thought, because there were a million reasons why her older sister should be alive and none of them had anything to do with making Paige's life easier.

“She found it in her attic,” David said abruptly, turning back to her. “That's what the old woman said, right?”

“Yes, that's what she said on the show.” Paige forced herself to focus on the present.

“You need to call her again, Paige, right now.”

The strange gleam in his eyes increased her uneasiness. “Why is this so important, Dad?”

“That's a good question.” The voice came from the doorway.

Paige turned to see her mother, Victoria, enter the room. A tall, rail-thin blonde, Victoria was a picture of sophistication, the ultimate feminine executive. There was intelligence in her sharp blue eyes, impatience in her voice, and a hint of ruthlessness in her face. Dressed in a black power suit; Victoria was too intimidating to be truly beautiful, but no one who met her ever forgot her.

“I asked you a question, David,” Victoria repeated. “Why are you stirring up the staff, asking Martin and Paige and God knows who else to find this Delaney woman? Is the dragon worth that much?”

“It could be priceless.”

She uttered a short, cynical laugh. “Everything has a price, darling.”

“Not everything.”

“Have you seen something like this dragon before in one of your books? Or perhaps you've heard a story, a fairy tale? We know how much you love fairy tales, especially ones coming from China. You know everything there is to know about that country and its people.” Victoria spit out the word people as if it had left a bad taste in her mouth. “Don't you?”

“Why do you care, Vicky?” he asked, deliberately using the nickname she hated. “It's not as if actual art holds any interest for you.”

“Its value certainly does.”

Paige sighed as her parents exchanged a glance of mutual dislike. Her father was right, though. Her mother rarely even looked at the inventory in the store. She was the financial wizard, the company spokesperson. David was the passionate art expert, the one for whom each piece told a special story. And Paige, well, no one had figured out her place at Hathaway's yet, least of all herself.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” David reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch. “I bought this for Elizabeth's birthday, to add to her collection.”

Paige watched as he slipped out a small, exquisitely carved jade dragon that had probably been designed to fit on the top of a sword. “It's perfect. It will go nicely with the others,” she said as her mother turned away. Victoria had never been comfortable talking about Elizabeth or acknowledging the tokens that David continued to buy each year in honor of his oldest daughter's love of dragons. “Do you want to leave that with me now?” she asked.

Her father returned the dragon to its pouch. “No, I'll keep it until we go to the cemetery next week.”

“Really, David, these ridiculous birthday parties of yours. They're so distasteful,” Victoria said with a frustrated shake of her head. “It's been twenty-two years. Don't you think–”

“No, I don't think,” David said, cutting her off. “If you don't want to go to the cemetery, then Paige and I will go on our own. Right, Paige?”

Paige looked from one to the other, feeling very much like a wishbone. But she couldn't say no to her father. Elizabeth's annual birthday party was one of the few occasions they always spent together. “Of course.”

The phone on her desk rang. Paige pushed the button for the intercom, grateful for the distraction.

“Mrs. Delaney is on line one,” her secretary said.

“Thanks, Monica.” She put the phone on speaker. “Hello, Mrs. Delaney. I'm glad you called. We'd love to talk to you about your dragon.”

“I'm so excited,” Nan said. “It's been such an incredible day. I can't tell you.”

Paige smiled at the enthusiasm in the older woman's voice. “I'm sure it has been. We're hoping we might persuade you to bring the dragon down to the store tomorrow so we can take a look at it. Maybe first thing in the morning?”

“The morning is out, I'm afraid. Riley can't drive me until tomorrow afternoon.”

“That will be fine. In fact, we have a wonderful tea. I don't know if you've heard of it, but–”

“Oh, yes, yes, I have heard of it,” Nan said. “I've heard it's fantastic.”

“Good, because we'd like to treat you and a friend or a family member to tea and a private appraisal. What do you say?”

“That sounds terrific,” Nan replied.

“Good, why don't we–”

“Just a second,” Nan said. There was a rustling, then a male voice came over the speaker.

“Miss Hathaway, I'm Riley McAllister, Mrs. Delaney's grandson. We'll be entertaining offers from numerous dealers, you understand,” he said in a brusque voice.

“Of course, but I hope you'll give us a chance to make you an offer after we verify the authenticity of your piece.”

“Since your store has had people calling my grandmother all day long, I'm fairly certain we have the real thing. But we will not be making any decisions without doing considerable research into the company making the offer. The House of Hathaway isn't the only game in town. And I will not allow my grandmother to be taken advantage of.”

Paige frowned, not caring for the implication. The House of Hathaway had an impeccable reputation, certainly not one of taking advantage of little old ladies.

“My grandmother will bring the dragon in tomorrow,” Mr. McAllister continued. “She'll be coming with a friend and myself. We'll be there at three o'clock.”

“That sounds–” The dial tone cut off her reply. “Well, that was rude,” she said, pressing the button to disconnect the call.

“Why did you suggest the tea?” her father asked, irritated. “That's not until the afternoon.”

“She said she couldn't do it in the morning.”

“I just hope that doesn't mean she's taking the dragon somewhere else. I want that dragon, whatever it costs,” he said.

“Don't be absurd, David,” Victoria replied. “We don't have an unlimited budget. Need I remind you of that?”

“Need I remind you that I make the buying decisions?” David looked Victoria straight in the eye. “Don't get in my way, Vicky, not on this.” And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Paige alone with her mother.

“Always so dramatic,” Victoria murmured.

“Why do you think this dragon is so important to Dad?” Paige asked.

“I have no idea. What's important to your father has been a mystery to me for some time.” She paused. “Keep me informed about the dragon, won't you?”

“Why?”

“Because I run the company.”

“I've never known you to care about an old statue.”

“I care about everything that concerns this store, especially things that make your father believe he has a blank check.”

Paige frowned as her mother left the office, shutting the door behind her. It had been a long time since both her parents had been interested in the same thing. That couldn't possibly be good.

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Golden Lies

DANIEL'S GIFT

Excerpt @ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy

All Rights Reserved

"I want to meet my Dad." 12-year-old Danny stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his blond hair tousled from sleep, his eyes drowsy but determined.

The glass of orange juice slipped from Jenny's fingers and crashed to the floor. "Your father?"

"I want to talk to him, Mom."

"Danny--”

"I want to ask him if he ever played shortstop. I want to know how tall he was when he was my age. I want to know when he started to shave." A curl fell down over Danny's right eye, and he flipped it back off his face in disgust. "I want to know if his hair is straight now."

"Danny, please." Jenny shook her head in despair. "We've talked about this before. I know it's difficult for you to understand that a man might not want to have a child. Maybe when you're older..."

"I'm old enough. I'm his kid. He should know me."

Danny stuck out his chin in a show of stubbornness that was exactly like his father -- if he only knew it. A sudden pain cut across Jenny's heart.

She walked over to the counter, giving herself time to think. The toaster popped up two slices of wheat bread. She buttered them, set them on a plate, and returned to the table with a pleading smile. "Eat your breakfast. We'll talk about this after school."

"You won't have time after school. You'll be at work. You're always at work."

"I'm sorry, but I do the best I can, Danny. I think you could be a little more understanding."

"Rob's mother stays home all day. And his dad is taking him camping this weekend," Danny said, throwing out a challenge that was impossible to beat.

"Are you deliberately trying to make me feel guilty? I'm doing my best. What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. Forget it." Danny slid out of his chair.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

Jenny sighed as Danny left the room. She hated to disappoint him, but lately that's all she seemed to do. Working eight hours a day at McDougal's Market, trying to build a jewelry-making business on the side, then keeping up with the house, the cooking, and the cleaning didn't leave much time for play.

Picking up a sponge, she cleaned up the mess on the floor and packed Danny's lunch. When she went into the living room, Danny was stuffing his homework into his backpack with an expression so woebegone he looked more like six than twelve.

His drooping mouth caught at Jenny's heart. It reminded her of simpler times, when Danny hadn't thought beyond his next cookie. He was growing up fast, too fast, asking questions she didn't want to answer, wanting things he couldn't have -- like his father.

She was losing her child, her baby, and she couldn't bear the thought.

"Runner on first," Jenny said.

Danny looked up. "Huh?"

"Runner on first. Two outs. Two strikes, one ball. What's the pitch?"

A reluctant smile spread across Danny's face. "The heater."

"No curve?"

He shook his head. "Blow some smoke, Mom."

Jenny drew back her arm, Danny's sack lunch clutched in her hand. "The runner steals. The pitcher turns. She throws." Jenny hurled the bag across the room.

Danny caught it and dropped to the floor, tagging an imaginary runner. "You're out."

"Nice play."

"Nice throw -- for a girl."

Jenny walked over and pushed the cowlick down at the corner of Danny's head.

He brushed her hand away. "Aw, Mom."

"Hug me good-bye?" she asked hopefully.

Danny rolled his eyes, but did allow her one quick squeeze. It wasn't enough. She was lucky to get that much.

Danny paused at the front door. "Can we go to the mall this weekend? I want to buy a gift for your birthday."

Jenny looked at her son for a long moment, not sure if she should be touched by his thoughtfulness or impressed by his ability to manipulate her. The quirk at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Nice try, kiddo. Is Sportsworld having a sale?"

"Come to think of it..."

"We'll see."

"That means no."

"That means, we'll see. Maybe Alan can go with us."

Danny made a face at the mention of Jenny's boyfriend. "Forget it."

"Come on, Danny, give Alan a chance. He's trying."

"Yeah, right." Danny hiked up his too-big blue jeans under his too-big sweatshirt and placed his San Francisco Giants baseball cap on backward.

Jenny sent him an affectionate look. Even though his clothes were atrocious, his attitude worse, he was still her kid, and underneath all that adolescent armor beat a tender and loving heart. She just had to remember that.

"You do understand about your father, don't you?" she asked.

Danny looked her in the eye. "No, I don't understand. I have a right to know my father. Kids are supposed to have two parents."

"I wish it could have been different."

"Don't you want to know what happened to him, Mom? Don't you care about him at all?" Danny didn't wait for an answer. He ran down the steps, across the grass, and disappeared from view.