Golden Lies by Barbara Freethy

nails, a nasty little habit Victoria had never been able to break her of. She remembered when she'd painted Paige's hands with a bad-tasting black polish just to make her aware of how many times she put her fingers in her mouth. It had worked for a while, but apparently the fix had not been permanent. Why was she surprised? Paige had a lot of her father in her.
    "Dad didn't show up for an important meeting this afternoon," Paige said. "He's also not answering his cell phone, and no one seems to know where he is, not even Georgia."
    Victoria's lips tightened. She hated the fact that David's secretary was more up-to-date on his whereabouts than she was, but she didn't particularly want to waste her time keeping track of him, so she'd allowed that to slide.
    "I can't imagine where he is," Paige muttered.
    Victoria heard the worried note in Paige's voice and tried not to let it concern her. Paige was a natural-born worrier. David's unexplained absence meant nothing, absolutely nothing. He was always missing. She'd spent too many hours to count waiting for David to show his face, to be where he'd promised to be, to support her when times got tough. All that had gotten her were more lines on her face. "He'll turn up. He always does—sooner or later."
    "This isn't just about Dad. The dragon is missing, too."
    Victoria's hand paused in mid stroke. "The dragon he was so eager to acquire?"
    "Yes, but he never made an evaluation or an offer. He must have taken it somewhere for some reason. Mrs. Delaney is being incredibly patient. Her grandson is another matter. If Dad doesn't bring that dragon back to the store tomorrow, Mr. McAllister will be a huge problem."
    That would be bad publicity for the store. Damn David. He never thought before he acted.
    "Do you have any idea where he might be?" Paige asked.
    Victoria had a terrible idea, one she didn't care to contemplate, one she couldn't possibly speak to her daughter about. "I'll see if I can find him." She set down the brush and got to her feet. "Why don't you go home and let me worry about your father?"
    Paige rose, hesitating. "Do you think I should speak to Grandfather?"
    "Good heavens, no. Why on earth would you want to do that?"
    "Maybe he and Dad—"
    "No, absolutely not. Your father doesn't confide in your grandfather. You know that. And let's not borrow trouble. Your father will turn up, he always does. There's no reason to upset Wallace." Her father-in-law was hard enough to please as it was, always looking for reasons to keep her in her place, to remind her that she could never run the store as well as he could.
    "I guess you're right," Paige said slowly.
    "Is there something else?"
    "I just wonder—"
    "Don't wonder, Paige. It's pointless where your father is concerned."
    "Don't you ever worry about him?"
    "Does he ever worry about us?" She knew her words hurt Paige, and she wished she could take them back. Hurting her daughter was never her intention, but sometimes it seemed inevitable. Paige had been disappointed by her father time and time again, yet she never seemed to see him for who he really was.
    "You're right," Paige said.
    "Well, he does worry about you," Victoria amended. "You're very important to him. And to me. Since you're here, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about."
    Paige's expression turned wary. "What's that?"
    "Martin. His mother tells me he's falling madly in love with you."
    "Martin doesn't do anything madly. And we've known each other for years."
    "But things have changed between you in recent months, isn't that true?"
    "We've gone out together a few times," she said with a shrug. "The six-year age gap between us doesn't seem so big anymore, but that doesn't mean—"
    "Six years is nothing. And I shouldn't have to remind you that you're not getting any younger. All your friends are married or about to be. Cynthia McAuley's wedding is in two weeks. Isn't that the fifth or sixth wedding you've been a bridesmaid in?"
    "Tenth, but who's