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“Yes, about that,” I say and seize my window of opportunity he’s now presented, “what if Allison returns?”
I expect him to tell me I have a contract. Instead, he simply says, “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
“Does she know I’m staying in the house?”
There’s a tic to his jaw and something sharp in his eyes that’s there and gone in a blink of a moment. Not for the first time, I wonder if Allison is personal to him. “Are you staying in the house or not, Ms. Wright?”
“It’s a generous offer,” I reply. “Thank you. I packed to move in tonight.”
“Good. There’s wine in the cellar. The only bottles off-limits are in the vault.” His cellphone rings and he snakes it from his pocket, glances at the caller ID, and then me, “I need to take this. Keep me informed and remember who you work for.” His lips twitch with the obvious reference to our “own” versus “work for” exchange. He heads for the door and I turn to watch him exit the room, but he pauses and looks back at me. “There are many things I need, Ms. Wright. I have yet to determine if I need them from you specifically.”
I blanch, not sure he’s actually talking about the job. I mean he is talking about the job, but that little smile gives me the distinct impression he wants me to wonder.
He disappears out of the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After discarding my coat and bags in my office, I head for the office Katie’s presently using as her own. I find her sitting behind her desk, finger deep in the icing on top of a cupcake. She grins when she sees me and licks the icing from her finger. I laugh and she says, “This is the best icing I’ve ever had. Thank you for the cupcakes.”
“I’m glad you like them. And I love that icing, so much.”
“We should order these for the auction,” she suggests.
“My thought as well,” I say, “and on that note, how about showing me the rooftop, please? I’m thinking of using it for the auction.”
“What happened to the hotel?”
“It’s very cold and average.”
“Hmmm. Yes. I couldn’t agree more.” She takes a bite of her cupcake, gives me a thumbs-up, and then reluctantly leaves her sweet treat for later.
A few minutes later, we’re inside a spacious rectangular room lined with windows that allow for a stunning view of downtown Nashville. There are cozy seating areas speckled throughout the space, a high-end restaurant-worthy bar, and a food service area. Televisions are strategically located near seating areas.
“This is really quite perfect,” I approve. “Do you know where the vaults are located?”
“On this floor,” she says. “Just down the hall. But how do we get out of the hotel reservations? Didn’t we put down a deposit?”
“I assume we did,” I concur, “but if I can make this happen, I want to. We need this to be more intimate, more exclusive.” I step to the window, staring out at the bright colored lights marking the dark night, and one could say New York City has a bigger, better skyline. But not everyone. Maybe not me.
Katie steps to my side. “It’s an addictive city, don’t you think?”
“It is,” I agree, glancing over at her. “Are you from Nashville?”
“Texas,” she says. “I went to school in Knoxville but I fell in love with Nashville. When I graduated two years ago, I landed here.”
“And Allison was here then?”
“She started after me but she was a favorite quickly.”
“Favorite?”
“Of Tyler’s,” she explains. “She had it made. That’s why I’m shocked that she left us like she did and really truly, kind of high and dry for this auction. I mean, she had it made here. We all knew it. She knew it, too.”
“What do you mean? She knew?”
“She just knew. It’s hard to explain.”
“She worked closely with Tyler, almost more his assistant than his assistant is.”
Interesting, I think, but there’s no proof they were involved. I don’t ask about that, either. I just don’t know Katie well enough to know how that would travel through the office.
“One day she was here,” Katie adds, “and the next, she wasn’t, but she was acting weird the week before she left, withdrawn, and edgy when that just wasn’t her. Clearly, she had something personal going on.”
Considering the necklace delivery, Katie is probably exactly right on that. “Maybe it was man trouble,” I comment, fishing for a name.
“Maybe. She went on a week-long trip to some tropical island with a rich guy right before she quit. That’s what was so weird about all of this. She was only back a week and then she was gone.”
“Maybe her rich man proposed and she took time off to get married.”
“There was no ring and she wouldn’t tell me his name. I think he must have been married.”
