Marigold hung up the phone and smiled. The flowers for Pandora’s wedding were scheduled to arrive tomorrow, but the supplier had assured Marigold that the extra five dozen ivory roses wouldn’t be a problem, although they probably would take an extra day.
That was fine, because those roses wouldn’t be necessary until the day before the wedding.
The archway under which Pandora and Cole took their vows was going to be spectacular. Those ivory roses would look lovely mixed with the fairy lights woven throughout the swags on the arch and with the extra glow from the Edison bulbs that would be strung in the trees. The backyard of their home, a beautiful Victorian that they’d worked as a couple to fully restore, would hold the hundred or so guests with plenty of space.
The whole evening would be stunning. But not as stunning as Pandora.
Marigold brushed her hand over the photo of Pandora’s wedding dress. The custom-made embroidered and beaded lace gown had elbow-length sleeves, a scoop neckline, and a simple pearl belt at the waist. A short, sweeping train added a little drama to the rear view. The whole thing was in ivory, just like the flowers (with accents of blush and peach and lilac), which perfectly complemented Pandora’s red hair and fair, freckled skin.
Cole was wearing an ivory linen suit, just the thing for a backyard summer wedding. He’d look good, too, but not so good that he’d distract from his stunning bride and her gorgeous dress.
Of course, it was easy to have a beautiful dress when your mother owned the bridal boutique in town. Ever After was the place to get wedding attire and formal wear in Nocturne Falls.
Marigold glanced up at the photo that hung on the wall by the register. The picture had captured a moment with her mother, Corette, and her sisters at the Black and Orange Ball that happened every Halloween. The picture was nearly thirteen years old now, older than Saffron, but the sight of her family always brought Marigold happiness.
Funny that she’d been thinking this morning how hard it was being a single mother, and yet, her mother had raised three girls practically on her own after their father had left.
“Like mother like daughter, huh, Frank?” She gave the cat a scratch. “Maybe I’m not supposed to have a man in my life until later. Like my mom.”
Frank stretched, offering his belly for more rubs.
“And you know what? I’m okay with that. Well, maybe not completely just yet. But I will be. She did a great job with us and now look at her, happily engaged to a great guy. So if my mom can do it, so can I.”
She carried the wedding books back to her desk for safe keeping. Joe should be back any time for this afternoon’s deliveries. Occasionally, she did a few herself, but with the weddings to prepare for, she couldn’t spare the time unless it was something she could do on her way home.
And once the flowers for Pandora’s wedding came in, Marigold would be in production mode. She’d have help from Leah, of course, but it was still a tremendous amount of work.
The bell over the door jangled.
“Joe?”
A wheezy laugh answered her. “No, not Joe.”
Marigold tucked the wedding book away, then leaned to see through the workroom door. “Hi, Mr. Mathers. I mean, Newt. I didn’t expect to see you again today. Everything all right with your carnation?” It still looked fresh, so if there was an issue, she couldn’t imagine what it was.
He came up to the counter, smiling tentatively. “My carnation is still lovely and bright, thank you. I’ve come to see you about a more personal matter.”
“Oh?” Now that was interesting. She met him on the other side of the counter. “What can I do for you?”
He sighed as though the world was crashing down around him. “I’m in a bind. There’s an auction this evening at Oswald’s Auction House, the one over in Millersville?”
“I know it.” She’d been there once with her mother and her mother’s fiancé, Stanhill. He’d been after an antique gold pocket watch. He’d won it too, but not without spending a considerable amount.
“Good. Very good. There’s an item going up for auction tonight that I had dearly hoped to win. Unfortunately, Glen Oswald, the manager, recognized me when I went in to have a look at the items today.”
“And that’s not good?”
“No, it’s not. You see, I’m rather well known in the antiques business and I’m afraid now that Glen knows I’m interested, he’ll do everything in his power to drive up the bidding. Based on my interest, he’ll assume this item is worth more. He’ll push the crowd.” Newt sighed. “I was hoping not to spend too extravagantly.”
She nodded. “Sure, I understand. But how can I help you?”
His face brightened. “Go to the auction in my stead. Be my proxy. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars for your time. Even if you don’t win the item.” He grinned. “But I think you will. And for a very good price.”
“I…” A hundred bucks would help a lot with Saffron’s soccer fees. But it meant giving up her evening. Or part of her evening. Time that she could be working on wedding stuff. She sighed and weighed the options. Wedding stuff? Or chipping away at some bills? “How long would I have to be there?”
“Just until the item is procured.”
“How do you know I’ll win it?”
“Because I’ll be bankrolling you. Up to ten thousand dollars if need-be.”
Her brows went up as her eyes widened. She had no idea Newt was so flush. And if he was willing to go that high, how much more would his presence raise the price? This was all so curious. “I don’t know…” That was a lot of money to be responsible for. “What if something happens and I don’t win it? I would hate to disappoint you.”
Or lose him as a customer. Not that his two-dollar-a-day carnation habit was paying her light bill or anything. Still, he was such a nice old man.
He patted her hand. “You could never disappoint me. You’re helping me out. Tell you what, I’ll make it two hundred. And I will consider it a personal favor and be in your debt.” He looked longingly at her.
Passing up that much money would be foolish. “Okay, I’ll do it. What time do I need to be there, and what am I buying?”
He clapped his hands. “Brilliant, thank you. You need to be at the auction house by six thirty so you can register for a paddle and get a good seat. And I must ask that you tell no one you’re there as my proxy. That would defeat the point of using a proxy, after all.”
“Makes sense. I won’t say a word.”
“Excellent.” He took out his phone and pulled up a picture. “And this is what you’re after.”
She studied the photo. “Those are…interesting.”
“They’re hideous.” He laughed. “But worth a fortune to the right buyer, whom I happen to know.”
“If you say so.” But it seemed to Marigold that the right buyer would also have to be someone with absolutely zero taste in candlesticks.
Mr. Carnation hadn’t shown up yet, which struck Wyatt as odd because he’d assumed the man would arrive early. Mr. Carnation was actually Mr. Newt Mathers, something Wyatt knew because Suzanne Anderson had identified the man from one of Wyatt’s slyly snapped photos. Newt was Suzanne’s uncle once removed or something.
Whoever he was, the man’s presence proved that her suspicions about another family member trying to buy the candlesticks had been on point. She’d gone so far as to say that if Newt was wise to the auction, other family members might be too.
She’d upped her highest bid, giving Wyatt some more room to make the purchase.
He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to go. The place was filling up. Fortunately, he’d already registered and gotten his paddle. He was ready to go. He’d even found himself a spot at the end of one of the rows of folding chairs that put his deaf ear to the wall.
He was okay with that. The wall wasn’t going to say anything.
The spot also gave him a nice vantage point to see the rest of the crowd. Only the door wasn’t in his immediate field of vision, but that required just a little turn of his head.
He turned now, to see if Newt had shown up.
Newt hadn’t, but Wyatt momentarily forgot about Mr. Carnation thanks to the shapely blonde at the registration desk.
She must have just come in, because he would have noticed her already. He had a weakness for blondes, he knew that about himself. But this one was above average. She wasn’t a twentysomething, either, which he immediately loved.
No, this woman had an air about her that said she understood how the world worked. She had kind eyes, but there was something about her that said she wasn’t going to put up with a lot of nonsense. He appreciated that. He felt that way himself a lot lately.
Her attitude did nothing to affect her beauty. If anything, it made her more beautiful. Maybe not to a lot of other eyes, but it did for him.
He should probably stop staring, but she hadn’t noticed, so he indulged himself a little longer.
She was curvy in the way of old-fashioned pin-up girls, and that appealed to him. Other men could have the supermodel waifs, he liked something to hold on to. Her blonde curls were a little wild, in a sort of earth mother kind of way that made him suddenly picture her in a sunny field full of wild flowers.
He blinked. Where on earth had that come from? That seemed like an awfully romantic image.
He turned back to face the front of the auction house and opened his program. He had work to do. Work that did not include weird, Hallmark-esque fantasies about some random blonde. Who was, granted, incredibly attractive.
He glanced over his shoulder for one more quick look, but she’d moved on. Good. He didn’t need the distraction. Until maybe the auction was over.
“Is that seat taken?”
He twisted to see if the question was for him. And looked straight up into the face of the woman he’d just been thinking about. He swallowed, trying to loosen his tongue. Up close, she was impossibly beautiful. “What?”
She used her bidding paddle to point at the chair beside him. “I asked if that seat was taken.”
She wanted to sit next to him? A quick scan of the crowd told him she didn’t have a lot of other options and that he should stop thinking this was in any way related to him and not just all about the seat. “Sure. I mean, no.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a quick, polite smile and started past him.
At the same time, he stood up with the goal of letting her by.
They collided in a tangle, and he ended up falling back into his seat. Quick action made him spin her in his arms. She came down on his lap. Without thinking, he leaned in and sniffed her hair. Lilacs.
Her eyes flashed with…anger? “Do you mind?”
He jerked back. What on earth had he done that for? He held his hands up, having suddenly realized they were gripping her upper arms. Which were tight and toned and very nice. “Sorry. I was just trying to keep you from falling.”
He hoped she bought that and didn’t think he was some hair-sniffing creep. His time on the force had certainly taught him better than that. “I swear.”
With a frown, she pushed to her feet. Her expression softened. “Thank you. I just…overreacted.”
Hands still up, he widened his fingers and shrugged. “Hey, I would have too if a strange guy grabbed me. But I promise I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She sidled past his knees and sat. “I know you didn’t. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s not your fault we ran into each other.”
“I’m still sorry I upset you. Are you okay?”
She laughed. “I’m not that delicate. I’m fine. A little embarrassed maybe.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“No problem.” But having seen her up close, having touched her, and having inhaled the summery, flowery fragrance that surrounded her, he was the one with a problem.
And he didn’t even know her name.