Page 51 of Savage Prince
“Hi, this is Temperance Ransom.”
“Temperance! I’d almost given up hope on you calling, and I’ve had no luck finding any information on the artist who created that piece. I was going to give you until tomorrow before I came back to harass you.”
“I have another piece,” I say. “I mean, I have one you can see, if you want.”
“Really?” Her excitement practically vibrates over the connection.
“Yes.”
“When?”
I glance at the clock. “I can be there in about a half hour.”
“Perfect!” There’s a muted clapping noise in the background. “I’ll be here. You just made my day.”
We hang up, and I immediately wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. Maybe I should have offered to text a picture to her just in case she thought it was hideous, and I wouldn’t have to see her face when she sees it in person.
Coward, my inner voice says, mocking me.Woman up.You know you did a damn good job. Besides,if you can’t own this dream, do you really deserve it?
I draw in a deep, steadying breath. “I can do this,” I tell the empty office. “And I better do it now before I lose my nerve.” With a final glance at the card on my desk, I sweep it into the trash and go to the filing cabinet to retrieve my purse.
“Time to put up or shut up.” I lock my door behind me, let the receptionist on duty know I’m leaving, and head for the parking lot.
* * *
“Where is it?”Valentina asks the moment I walk through the door of Noble Art.
It took me twenty-five minutes to fight traffic from a funeral to get into the Quarter and find a parking spot, and another five to hoof it two blocks.
“Do you want to see a picture first?” I’ve thought about this for the last half hour. The best way to see the phoenix for the first time isn’t to view it lying down in the back of my Bronco.
“You have one?” Her eyes light up. “Why didn’t you send it to me? Let’s see it.”
I retrieve my phone from my purse and pull up the picture I took in the workshop at Elijah’s, but keep the screen turned toward me. “It’s not a professional photo, or anything.”
“Temperance, show me the damn picture.”
I hand over the phone, and she’s silent for three of the longest seconds of my life.
“Wow.”
“Is that a good wow or bad wow?” I don’t mean to ask the question aloud, but it’s out before I can stop it.
Valentina doesn’t look up from my phone. Instead, she zooms in closer on the photo. “It’s a good wow. This is so unique.”
“They’re all one of a kind. Pretty much impossible to replicate.”
She finally drags her attention from the screen to me. “Level with me here. What’s it going to take for me to buy this?”
“I don’t know ...” I trail off and my gaze bounces around the gallery, cataloging all the beautiful artwork that seemsrealin comparison to what’s always been a hobby for me. “Do you really think one of your clients would buy it?”
Her stare pins me. “We were at the same auction, right?”
“Right, but it was put up under someone else’s name.”
“Whose name should it have been under?”
It’s the moment of truth. Do I tell her or do I lie?
