Page 29 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
“Definitely. There is a fascinating market for antique toys, and I’ve seen crazy bids.”
“Learn something new every day. I had no idea there was demand for metal monkeys.”
“There’s a market for everything,” she says with a smile.
“Now that—that is indeed true. What’s it worth?” I gently hand her the toy. She sets it back on the desk where she found it.
“It depends if we find more like it. It’s possible that Greta and Edward were avid toy collectors. That would be cool if we learned that. I’m going to add some notes on the monkey.”
She returns to her iPad, tapping in the details. I spot her reading app in the corner of the screen.
“What have you been reading these days?”
“A fascinating book on the history of perfume. The author does an incredible job describing scents, which is no small feat.”
She sounds so animated, so utterly delighted, as she often is when talking about books.
“Want me to read you a passage?” I offer, a little flirty.
She glances over and flashes a quick smile, then shakes her head. “I fear that would be a little too dangerous.”
“Ah, so then I really should try to hijack your perfume book and whisper in your ear about tantalizing scents that seduce you?”
She shoots me a dirty look. “You will do nothing of the sort.”
“And why is that? Too tempting?”
“Are you trying to distract me from the job?”
“Is it working?”
“Yes. Now let me focus.”
“Fine,” I say with an over-the-top huff. “Just answer one question. Do you have The Highwayman on there still? Under Dirty Favorites?” I can’t resist, because flirting with her is way more fun than playing with toy monkeys.
Though admittedly the monkey was kind of cool. Her reaction to it was even better though.
“No, it’s listed under”—she lets her lips curve up into an I’ve got a secret grin—“DNF.”
I scoff. “Oh, there was nothing DNF about that. That story had multiple finishes.”
“Did it? I can’t seem to recall a thing about it.” She taps her finger to her tongue and touches the air, making a sizzling sound, and holy shit, I like this new side of Presley. I like the naughty flirt in her.
“Well played,” I say as she crosses the room to the bureau, presumably to record some details on it.
And, since I know she does need to focus on work, I return there too, asking, “If the monkey is worth a grand, how much is the bureau?”
“It looks to be authentic. Same as the mirror from earlier. They should do decently at auction.”
She places emphasis on “decently,” but it comes with a smile, so I guess that means it’ll do well enough.
“That’s good, then,” I say, because I do want her to benefit from this project, but decently is bad for TV.
Because . . . bureaus? Mirrors? Toy monkeys? It’s a one-way ticket to Snoozeville.
As much as I like flirting with her, I have a job too. I gesture to the stairs. “Why don’t I conduct some recon and see what’s upstairs? You can keep rooting around down here.”
“I need to enter some details on that couch in the living room. Want to wait for me, and I can go with you?”
“Think of me like an advance scout.” I give her a smile that says Hey, it’s all good. “I’ll make sure there are no ghosts, goblins, or monsters upstairs.”
“Thank God. I was hoping you’d do goblin patrol.”
“And you thought I was just a pretty face.”
“Behave, pretty boy. Don’t break anything.” She returns her focus to her tablet.
“I’ll be a good pretty boy. I promise.”
But behaving is hard when I find a few old instruments on a bench at the top of the staircase. A trombone, a tambourine, and a xylophone. Gathering them up, I take them to Presley, setting them on the landing where she inspects them closely, gasping at the last one.
“What did you find? Gold? Silver? Rubies?”
“No, this xylophone is from the late 1800s. There’s an inscription on it with the date,” she says in that same tone as before, the one that’s full of wonder and excitement.
“What do you think it’s worth?”
“I don’t know for sure, but five figures potentially. I’ll have to do a little research,” she says, practically squealing. Research is her jam.
The front door swings open, and Jared returns from lunch, his camera bag on his shoulder. “Find anything good, Hunt? Because this morning’s take was boring AF,” Jared remarks, scratching his bearded jaw.
His derisive comment jolts me. It’s the kick in the pants that reminds me to dial up the entertainment factor. And I have an idea.
“As a matter of fact, get ready. Because I have unearthed a fascinating find.”
“Excellent,” he says, removing the camera from his bag and turning it on.
“What did you find that you didn’t tell me about?” Presley whispers out of the side of her mouth.
