Locals?”
“Mostly. A few employees. A couple of residents. Trustees. Neighborhood folks. They do what they can, but we’re the big bucks here.”
“And Holly recruited you.”
“Like a master sergeant. I was afraid not to come that first year. I was afraid she’d hunt me down again, but since then...” He paused and sobered. “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do for that girl.”
“Really?” he asked reflectively, wondering if she weren’t some sort of witch who cast her magic spells on everyone she met. Wondering, too, if she knew his net worth. And since she seemed to make a point of knowing that sort of thing about certain people, why she hadn’t hit him up for a donation.
“Oh, she’s as plain as day about wanting my money, but she has a way of making me feel good about giving it. Not like it’s a tax write-off, or my duty to do it. More like... well, hell, I don’t know, just good about it. And she throws a hell of a party to boot.”
“My ears are burning,” she said from behind them. They parted to face her. “I hope you’re not telling Oliver what a bloodsucking gold digger I am.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Phil said, taking her hands and bending to plant an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Oliver wanted to do the same thing, but a little more to the left.
“Good. I wanted to thank you, too, for painting another picture for us this year. I like it even better than last year’s. Did you know that Phil paints?” Oliver looked at the man as if he’d never met him before. “Wonderful pictures of children. Last year he did one of two little boys eating ice cream on a park bench that was so precious, I bid every dime of my savings for it. But Mrs. Vochec outbid me.”
Oliver glanced back at Phil and almost dropped his teeth to see him blushing and simpering like a schoolboy. She was a witch.
“Tonight I slipped a magic sleeping potion into her punch that should take effect just about the time the auction starts,” she said wickedly. “I’m not taking any chances this year.”
Damn, she’d done it again. He was thinking witch, and she started talking potions. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.
Phil looked ready to bow his head and start shuffling his feet in the light of her admiration, so Oliver came to his rescue.
“Maybe I could talk you into taking me over and showing me some of this artwork?” he said. “Didn’t you tell me you had a piece up too?”
“Yes, but mine is truly amateur compared to some, and nothing compared to Phil’s.”
“I’d like to see it, then. Both of them...” It was then that he recalled her earlier comment on his love of art. Had she been casing him, setting him up as a possible recruit? Was their meeting on the plane fixed or fate? Was that how she knew his tastes, seemed to read his thoughts, because she’d had him staked out all along? “I’m immune to magic potions and might have to outbid you tonight myself.”
“Well, for the sake of St. Augustine’s you’re certainly welcome to try,” she said, her smile wavering for a brief moment when she thought she saw a streak of anger in his eyes. “But I warn you, I’m very determined this year. I have more in my account than I had last year.”
“Note taken,” he said, fairly warned.
They made their excuses to Phil and began a slow migration to the art exhibit in an adjoining room. They could hardly take two steps without someone stopping Holly to congratulate her on the success of the party; to renew her acquaintance; to hug her warmly; to ask a question. It was extremely annoying.
Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t shake the possessive notion that he was her escort for the evening. And he wasn’t used to his date getting more regard than he got. She made a point of including him, but he could tell he didn’t have her complete and undivided attention. And he wanted it. He had questions and he wanted answers.
It was irritating
“Mostly. A few employees. A couple of residents. Trustees. Neighborhood folks. They do what they can, but we’re the big bucks here.”
“And Holly recruited you.”
“Like a master sergeant. I was afraid not to come that first year. I was afraid she’d hunt me down again, but since then...” He paused and sobered. “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do for that girl.”
“Really?” he asked reflectively, wondering if she weren’t some sort of witch who cast her magic spells on everyone she met. Wondering, too, if she knew his net worth. And since she seemed to make a point of knowing that sort of thing about certain people, why she hadn’t hit him up for a donation.
“Oh, she’s as plain as day about wanting my money, but she has a way of making me feel good about giving it. Not like it’s a tax write-off, or my duty to do it. More like... well, hell, I don’t know, just good about it. And she throws a hell of a party to boot.”
“My ears are burning,” she said from behind them. They parted to face her. “I hope you’re not telling Oliver what a bloodsucking gold digger I am.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Phil said, taking her hands and bending to plant an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Oliver wanted to do the same thing, but a little more to the left.
“Good. I wanted to thank you, too, for painting another picture for us this year. I like it even better than last year’s. Did you know that Phil paints?” Oliver looked at the man as if he’d never met him before. “Wonderful pictures of children. Last year he did one of two little boys eating ice cream on a park bench that was so precious, I bid every dime of my savings for it. But Mrs. Vochec outbid me.”
Oliver glanced back at Phil and almost dropped his teeth to see him blushing and simpering like a schoolboy. She was a witch.
“Tonight I slipped a magic sleeping potion into her punch that should take effect just about the time the auction starts,” she said wickedly. “I’m not taking any chances this year.”
Damn, she’d done it again. He was thinking witch, and she started talking potions. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.
Phil looked ready to bow his head and start shuffling his feet in the light of her admiration, so Oliver came to his rescue.
“Maybe I could talk you into taking me over and showing me some of this artwork?” he said. “Didn’t you tell me you had a piece up too?”
“Yes, but mine is truly amateur compared to some, and nothing compared to Phil’s.”
“I’d like to see it, then. Both of them...” It was then that he recalled her earlier comment on his love of art. Had she been casing him, setting him up as a possible recruit? Was their meeting on the plane fixed or fate? Was that how she knew his tastes, seemed to read his thoughts, because she’d had him staked out all along? “I’m immune to magic potions and might have to outbid you tonight myself.”
“Well, for the sake of St. Augustine’s you’re certainly welcome to try,” she said, her smile wavering for a brief moment when she thought she saw a streak of anger in his eyes. “But I warn you, I’m very determined this year. I have more in my account than I had last year.”
“Note taken,” he said, fairly warned.
They made their excuses to Phil and began a slow migration to the art exhibit in an adjoining room. They could hardly take two steps without someone stopping Holly to congratulate her on the success of the party; to renew her acquaintance; to hug her warmly; to ask a question. It was extremely annoying.
Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t shake the possessive notion that he was her escort for the evening. And he wasn’t used to his date getting more regard than he got. She made a point of including him, but he could tell he didn’t have her complete and undivided attention. And he wanted it. He had questions and he wanted answers.
It was irritating
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