Page 95 of Obsession
“Bidding?” I asked.
“Yes. The price was too much for my blood by the end of it.”
“Oh, Cat, you ruin all my fun.”
I turned to Phil’s voice. “Fun?” I realized I sounded a little thick, but what the hell had happened since I’d escaped for my impromptu turkey dinner?
“Yes. You’ll be so very pleased with the sales figures.”
I blinked. “Truly?”
“Oh, yes. You did quite well. I’m going to require at least another six pieces, Grace. People love this new style of yours.”
I squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Phil.”
“It was a pretty penny. I know you’ve fallen on hard times.” Mrs. Bishop’s smile was serene, but I saw the glee lighting her eyes.
And it was one of the reasons I’d been hiding away from everyone. Everyone knew everyone’s business in Lady’s Bay. It was a small curve of beach with many old and established houses along the shoreline. The Bishop and Gregory houses represented the oldest families as well as the oldest money.
Once upon a time that had been me, as well.
I lifted my chin. “Feels good to earn my own money.”
Phil pinched me on the underside of my arm.
Instead of insult, I caught a glimpse of respect in the older woman’s eyes. “Everyone should be able to do what they love. I’ll be looking for more of your work, Grace.”
Surprised, I could do no more than nod. Phil steered me over to the desk. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but tread carefully, dear.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t really prepared for her to bring up my grandmother.”
People had been doing it all evening, but it had been more condolences rather a direct swipe at my situation.
“Cat just likes to stir up trouble.” Phil slid a piece of paper over to me. “I told you there would be a bidding war.” She smiled before she sailed off to another old friend across the gallery.
I flipped open the folded piece of stationery.
That couldn’t be right.
There were far too many zeroes.
It was just one piece.
My heart raced and I barely heard the patron who came up and asked me questions. I stuffed the slip of paper in my pocket as I answered on autopilot. I explained the blind system we had for auctions at the gallery.
Most of the artwork was bought at face value, but a few pieces ended up with some haggling. I hadn’t even known what to put on my piece for a base figure.
I usually left it up to Phil.
When the patron wandered off to one of Singer’s pieces, I floated my way into the Cove Room. A discreet red dot was on the front of the pedestal next to the name, “Fallen Angel.” I drew my thumb across the embossed lettering.
Someone had actually wanted my work badly enough to put it into an auction situation.
Unfathomable.
I had always done okay with my work, but nothing like the number I clutched in my hand.
The rest of the night was a blur. When we were finally down to a handful of guests, most waiting for Philomena, I was able to finally sit down with the ledger. Lady’s Bay Gallery had sold most of the pieces. A few minds had been changed by the end of the night, and maybe stickers had become nos.
