Page 30 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

I admitted I hadn’t.

“Xander is a respected art critic. I’ve known him for a number of years and worked alongside him on researching background to more elusive pieces of artwork. In my opinion, he would be the go-to guy when it comes to unravelling something like this.”

Howard then mentioned a couple of high-profile auctions within the last couple of years, which Xander North was involved with. “He was instrumental in a Tiffany & Co. silver tea and coffee set from 1873 being sold for four times its original estimated worth in Boston.”

I let out an appreciative, stunned gasp. I recalled the newspaper coverage of the highly publicised auction at the time.

“And he helped to secure the sale of a Theodore Wende tea set at Sotheby’s for a six-figure sum. It was in the same vein as the Wende your late grandmother owned.”

Now I remembered. There had been a glossy Sunday-supplement feature on it months ago and I remembered discussing it with Gran at the time. “Wasn’t that the set that had a silver and ivory teapot and was stamped with German hallmarks?”

“The very same,” said Howard, sounding impressed. “It was from 1927 and was considered very avant-garde at the time.”

I heard Howard bustling around at his desk. “I’m not making any promises, but I can contact Xander now and try to pique his interest?”

I could feel my anticipation growing. “That would be wonderful, Howard. Thank you.”

“No problem at all. Sorry I won’t be around to help, but I will get back to you, once I’ve spoken to Xander and forwarded the photographs to him.”

“You enjoy your jolly to Venice and please tell Mr North I look forward to working with him.”

Howard made a snorting sound. “I can assure you I won’t have much free time to ride on a gondola. I’m going over to price some art acquisitions for a number of private collectors.” There was a pregnant pause. “Sophie, I should warn you that Xander North doesn’t tend to do teamwork. Not even with me, although you must find that very difficult to believe. He’s what you might call a lone wolf.”

I laughed and dismissed Howard’s hidden warning. I was used to organising weddings for the most demanding clients.

How hard could getting along with a renowned art critic be?

Chapter Fourteen

Howard texted me back that same Tuesday afternoon, to say he had managed to speak to Xander North, who was intrigued by the tea set and had agreed to meet with me.

It all sounded rather grand and cloak-and-dagger, but I was just so pleased that I might have a chance of finding out more about this tea set, where it had come from and why that well-dressed lady had been so keen to get rid of it. Perhaps I could even locate her and find out the reason for myself.

At ten the next morning, a mysterious number appeared on my mobile phone screen, while I waited in The Cup That Cheers for the delivery of a new telephone for the shop. Mrs Cotter’s one had been rather unreliable and a boring shade of grey, so I’d opted for a retro style in pale pink to complement the shop interior.

A deep, well-spoken voice greeted me. Well, when I say greeted, it was more like an instruction.

Through in the main part of the shop, Finn was lapping Scottish Mist onto the ceiling with a long roller brush and Ally was making good progress on the shelves.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the man carried on.

“Sophie Harkness? Xander North here.”

I straightened my shoulders and hoped my tone sounded professional. “Good morning, Mr North. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” he clipped. “About this mysterious tea set – Howard sent me the pictures.”

There was a long pause. I wasn’t sure if he was expecting me to fill it. “Yes,” I said, just to break the silence.

“I can drop by in about an hour. I have a business lunch straight after in Glasgow.”

I told him I didn’t have the tea set with me, but that it would only take me ten minutes to drive home to collect it.

“Good,” he barked into my ear.

I blinked. Something told me he wasn’t much for polite conversation.

I gave him the address for the shop.