A Fatal Appraisal (6 page)

"And not a chance in hell." Borris sniggered.

Garrett wasn't attracted to that gorgeous creature? Molly
found herself smiling demurely in his direction. Garrett flashed her a dazzling
smile in return. Molly felt a warm glow spread through her body as a result of
his attention, two delicious margaritas, and the restaurant's festive
atmosphere.

"I
like
you two," she said as she clinked
glasses with Jessica and Borris. "I think this is going to be such a cool
assignment."

Suddenly, Frank clanged a fork against his water glass in
order to get everyone's attention.

"Listen, folks." He sniffed, clenching a tissue in
his fist. "As some of you are aware, my mother passed away a few months
ago and she left me her townhouse. It's here in Richmond, on Strawberry Street,
just a few minutes walk from the museum. Mother lived in Florida most of the
year, so her place has been empty for over six months now." He turned his
head aside to sneeze. "Are you wearing perfume?" he asked Lindsey
accusingly.

"Just a little," the homely woman admitted
guiltily. "But it's from this morning."

"Ugh, my nose is
so
sensitive." Frank
honked into a tissue. "Anyway, I'm going to auction everything in her
house, but if anyone would like to see what she's got before it gets packed
away, you're welcome to join me tomorrow morning to go through her goodies. Of
course, I know what the furniture is worth, but my mother had oodles of smalls
and I don't want anything
priceless
to go to auction."

Several of the appraisers smiled appreciatively at Frank.
There was nothing antique and collectibles-obsessed people enjoyed more than
poking their noses around other people's houses—especially ones in which all
the contents were to be sold. Molly was terrified of being excluded. "I
can suggest an excellent auctioneer for the job!" she shouted a bit
drunkenly from her end of the table. "When are you going over?"

Frank stood and made his way to her end of the table.
'Tomorrow morning before filming starts. Say, nine o'clock?" he asked the
group, dabbing at his raw, red nose. Murmurs of assent rose from the appraisers
who were distracted by the arrival of their food.

"We'll meet you at the front door of the museum,"
said Jessica. "Sounds fun."

"Good. Fine," Frank replied as the waitress
arrived and Molly's fajitas were placed in front of her. As Jessica bit into
her enchilada, a long string of cheese trailed from her plate to her mouth.
Frank's eyes widened in panic as he stared at the cheese. Jessica giggled, but
Frank dashed after the departing waitress to inquire if the burritos he had
ordered contained any milk-based cheese products.

From the corner of her eye, Molly watched Garrett excuse
himself and head off to the men's room. As soon as he was gone, Alexandra's
stiff smile melted away and she scowled at her plate of quesadillas.

"You Americans consume such rubbish," she
announced. "No wonder your country is faced an obesity epidemic."

Molly was amazed that everyone ignored the barb. The other
appraisers simply continued their conversations as if no one had spoken.

"Look at this dump," Alexandra continued,
"bloody disgusting."

 "Cheer up, mate," Tony mocked her by using an
exaggerated Cockney accent "You could be eating alone at your hotel."

"What? And miss a line of your witty banter!
Never." Alexandra's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Do try to dress
better than a country bumpkin for tomorrow's shooting, Tony. You look a mess,
as usual."

Tony stuffed his mouth with salsa-drenched tortillas and
bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty." He clearly didn’t give a
damn what Alexandria thought of him or his wardrobe.

At that moment, Garrett returned from the restroom and
headed straight for Molly.

"Can I offer you a lift back to our hotel?" he
asked, his eyes twinkling.

Molly could feel the heat of Alexandra's angry stare burning
a hole through the back of her head.

"No, thanks." She smiled, feeling that everyone
was listening. "I came over with Jessica and Borris, so I'll just go back
with them."

"It's your life," Garrett teased. "Jessica is
a real New York driver. Tailgates, curses, holds up a particular finger
if—"

"Oh, I do not!" Jessica threw her napkin at
Garrett.

After a dessert of fried ice cream drizzled in warm honey,
Molly and her two new friends rose to leave. Molly decided to quickly introduce
herself to Alexandra and get it over with. She would rather not talk to her at
all, but as a head appraiser, Alexandra could hardly be avoided, royal snob or
not.

Alexandra deliberately picked up her water glass the moment
Molly held out a hand in introduction. She muttered, "Charmed," in
her belittling way and turned her face away from Molly in order to tease
Garrett over having to film another segment in the States.

"She's going to be a real pleasure to interview."
Molly sighed as she slid into the back seat of Borris's rental car.

"She's a bitch all right," said Borris as they
drove off. "Just ignore her. We all do."

"If she hates America so much, why is she here?"
Molly asked, eyeing a blue minivan stuffed with children as it eased itself
into their lane. The van's bumper sticker proclaimed:
I’m embarrassing my
children—it's a full-time occupation.

Jessica scowled. "Does anyone use a turn signal
anymore?' She adjusted the rearview minor. "Alexandra got demoted from the
British version of the show. Rumor has it she used to be quote a talented
director, but I heard she ruined her career by sleeping with a fellow director.
Problem is, he was married."

"Yeah"—chuckled Borris—"to the daughter of
the network president. Oops!"

The trio laughed in wicked merriment.

Back at Traveller, they said their good nights and Jessica
went into the Blue Ridge room as Borris entered the Limoges. Molly made a
mental note that she would need to photograph their rooms for her article
before the week was over. Yawning widely, she changed into a pair of green
cotton pajamas covered by a pattern of pink steaming coffee cups and fell back
onto a plump, soft pillow.

What a great assignment this was turning out to be, she
thought happily before falling asleep.

~~~~~

The next morning Molly heard stirrings in the hallway and
realized she only had thirty minutes to get ready before meeting Frank. She had
completely forgotten to set her alarm clock. Quickly showering and dressing in
beige linen slacks, a light blue shirt and a sterling necklace in the Greek key
pattern, Molly decided she had just enough time to phone the office and see if
there was any news about Matt.

When a young female voice answered with, "
Collector's
Weekly
, how may I direct your call?" Molly was momentarily taken
aback.

"Hello?" the voice asked again.

"Where's Mrs. Goodbee?" Molly finally stammered,
asking after the crotchety elderly lady who had worked the reception desk since
the paper's inception twenty-five years ago.

"Who may I ask is calling?" the voice asked with
false sweetness.

"Molly Appleby. I'm a staff writer."

"Oh,
Ms
. Appleby," the girl placed special
emphasis on the title. "I've actually met you already. It was over two
years ago. I think you and I may have applied for the same job. You know, as a
staff writer." She giggled briefly and without a trace of merriment.
"Guess you landed it since you're out there writin' away and I'm here
answerin' the phones. Anyways, no hard feelings." She paused and Molly was
certain there was a plethora of hard feelings. "And about
Mrs
.
Goodbee ...
she
quit yesterday."

"What? Why?" Molly asked in surprise.

"I'm afraid that's personal information," the girl
replied firmly. Molly disliked her immensely.

"Has
Mr
. Harrison called in?" Molly asked,
nastily copying the girl's tone.

"Oh yes. He asked to speak to you, actually."

Molly's heart skipped a beat. "And? Did he leave a
message? Did you give him my number?"

"No, I didn't have your number. And no, he didn’t leave
a message," the girl replied with evident satisfaction.

"Did he leave
his
number?" Molly demanded
testily.

"Let me see here." The girl shuffled papers loud
enough for Molly to hear. Then she picked up a message pad and ripped off the
top sheet containing Matt's number in Ohio. Luckily for her, Molly couldn't see
the malicious smile that sprouted on her young face as she balled up the paper
and threw it in the trash. "Nope, no number. Sorry."

Molly sensed the girl was lying. "Let me speak with
Clayton, please."

"Oh, he's out. My ..." The girl giggled.
"We're not doing too well here, are we?"

"What's your name?" Molly asked, trying to control
her temper.

 "Brittani, with an i."

"Well, Brittani with an i, I am going to leave my
number again, since it must have walked away from your bulletin board, which is
where I hung it yesterday." Molly recited her number and roughly placed
the phone back into the cradle. Brittani sounded like a manipulative,
vindictive little twerp. Molly would have to call Clayton at home to find out
more about her.

Before she could get any more worked up about the new
receptionist, there was a knock on her door. Molly took a quick peek at her
reflection in the mirror over the dresser and, satisfied with what she saw,
grabbed her purse and opened her door.

Garrett stood outside, looking refreshed and incredibly
handsome. He wore white pants with a salmon-colored shirt and a tan suede
jacket that begged to be stroked. He smelled of an earthy cologne and a hint of
hazelnut coffee. Molly stared at him and tried to ignore the heat rushing
throughout her body.

"Can I offer you a lift?" he asked brightly.
"I've got to head over to the set and I know you want to meet up with
Frank and the gang to poke through his mum's digs."

Before Molly could open up her mouth to accept his offer her
stomach issued a loud growl. Trying to stifle the sound with her hands, Molly
covered her soft middle in embarrassment.

But Garrett only laughed and held up a small berry basket
filled with an enormous blueberry muffin, a banana, and a glass of orange juice
in a lidded cup. "I thought you'd be too short on time to join us for breakfast,
so I asked Mrs. Hewell to pack you a picnic basket."

"Oh, thank you." Molly inhaled the muffin's scent
gratefully, amazed over Garrett’s thoughtfulness.

"And I wouldn't forget your coffee." Garrett
pulled a small thermos from the basket and handed it to her, brushing her
fingertips with his own over the warm metal. "Light and sweet,
right?"

"Right." Molly smiled, once again unnerved by her
attraction to this man. Matt
was
trying to reach her, and she resolved
to keep that close in mind and Garrett Huntington more at a distance. Still, it
was difficult to get her mind to listen to reason when her body was longing to
throw itself into his strong arms.

 Garrett chatted amiably over how well he expected the Civil
War exhibit to impress the American home viewing audience. He enthusiastically
described some of the rare artifacts while smoothly maneuvering the car around
slower drivers.  Molly was too busy enjoying the freshly baked muffin while
trying not to get crumbs down the front of her shirt to focus on much else. As
they pulled up in front of the museum in record time, it was Victoria, not
Frank, who awaited the group of appraisers.

"Good morning," Victoria greeted Garrett and Molly
flatly. She was dressed in a gray suit with a light blue blouse. A triple
strand of pearls dangled from her chest and once again, a black and white
handkerchief stuck out of her jacket pocket. Molly thought that Victoria was
wearing one of her better outfits. At least it was an improvement over
yesterday’s ensemble. For a moment, Molly lost herself in a fantasy in which
she was given Victoria’s clothes budget. In her mind, she entered Nordstrom’s
and came out again seconds later, wearing large sunglasses, a fabulous black
dress, and carrying armloads of shopping bags. In the fantasy, Molly looked
like a heavier version of Natalie Wood and turned the heads of everyone near
the department store’s entrance.

"Frank's getting the car," Victoria said,
gesturing feebly toward the parking garage across the street. Molly blinked and
reluctantly let go of her fantasy.

At that moment, Jessica and Borris walked over from the
direction of the garage followed by Tony and Alicia. They all greeted one
another with raised coffee thermoses.

"Can we play hooky all day?" Tony asked hopefully.

"No, Frank's mother's townhouse isn't that big,"
Victoria replied flatly.

"The
mother-in-law
. I can’t imagine what she was
like. Did you guys get along?" Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Not really. She didn't want anyone to marry Frank.
Ever. No one was good enough." Victoria hastened to change the subject.
"Look, you guys can head over, but Tony, there are no toys except for a
few old dolls. Frank said the house should be easy to find because there's a
cafe called Oodles of Noodles next door to the townhouse—"

"Don't you know where the house is?" Borris asked
in befuddlement.

Victoria frowned deeply, forcing unattractive lines to
spring out across her forehead and around her mouth. "I've never been
there myself. Mrs. Sterling and I weren't exactly close and I was invited. Ah,
here's Frank now." Victoria actually looked relieved to see her husband.

"Isn't Strawberry Street within walking distance?"
Garrett asked, eyeing the car.

"Yes, it is." Victoria seemed to be growing
impatient. Indicating her husband with the slightest tilt of her head, she
explained. "But Frank wants to stay out of the fresh air and I'm not
wearing my running shoes. I’m sure you’ll find the place.”