reassured her as she took Macy’s arm. Her friend’s steady touch soothed her jumpy nerves. “I don’t mind, Macy. That’s why I’m here, for support.”
With eyes well hidden beneath sunglasses, Macy was free to dart glances all around, scoping out the large, elegantly appointed room where Tina Tarlington’s prized possessions would be auctioned off. Beautifully tufted, rounded high-back chairs were lined up in a dozen rows, split in the center by an aisle. The surrounding walls were easy-on-the-eye tones of beiges and light peach. Wide white wainscoting centered the walls and wrapped around the perimeter of the room. Multifaceted crystal chandeliers twinkled and provided abundant light overhead.
“I can’t thank you enough for enduring this with me.” Avery had made a quick trip from her home in London to be with her today.
“I know how hard this is for you.”
“Hard and necessary, unfortunately. Having my mother’s things on display like this gives me a stomachache. Oh, I am so not looking forward to this.”
Avery gave Macy’s hand a squeeze as they pressed farther into the room. “Those two seats on the aisle in the back are ours,” Macy whispered. “I made arrangements beforehand for us.”
And as they headed to those seats, Macy noticed that every other chair in the room was taken. Even in death, Tina Tarlington drew large crowds.
An attendant came by immediately to hand them a catalogue listing the items being auctioned off, and after a brief conversation Macy nodded her thanks to the woman standing at the head of the room. Ann Richardson, the CEO of Waverly’s, who had secured the estate sale from Macy, gave her a silent greeting in return before turning to shake hands with the patrons in the front row. It was important to Ms. Richardson that the Tarlington auction go off without a hitch. Waverly’s stood to make a hefty commission.
Macy opened the catalogue and flipped through the pages, noting item after item from her mother’s estate. The descriptions were listed as lot numbers along with an estimate as to their value. The first item stopped her cold as memories flooded in and tears formed in her eyes.
On Macy’s tenth birthday, just as the celebration was about to begin, Tina had rushed into the Magic Castle Mansion, an exclusive club showcasing musicians from around the world, dressed as Eleanor Neal, the role which had garnered her an Academy Award nomination. She’d come straight from the set, the shoot going longer than anticipated. Macy hadn’t cared that her mother was late for her party or that she’d come in her professional makeup and wardrobe. She’d flown into her mother’s arms and hugged her so tight that Tina laughed until her mascara had run down her face. It was magic and one of the best birthdays of Macy’s life.
Now, the pink silk and sequin dress her mother had worn that day was described as “Worn by Tina Tarlington in the acclaimed film Quest for Vengeance, 1996.”
Her mother’s entire life seemed to have been whittled down to one-sentence blurbs and numbers. The ache in Macy’s stomach intensified.
Discreetly, she closed the catalogue booklet and took a deep breath. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. She had to go through with this auction. She gave herself a little pep talk, reciting in her head all the practical reasons why selling her mother’s treasures and jewels were necessary.
As she surveyed the room, people-watching, waiting for the auction to begin, she found the distraction she needed in a Stetson-wearing hunk of a man sitting across the aisle from her and one row up. His head was down, concentrating on the catalogue. The cowboy wore a crisp white shirt underneath a stylish Western suit coat that accentuated the solid breadth of his shoulders. The glint of silver from his bolo tie twinkled under the chandeliers. His profile was strong, grooved with a razor-sharp cheekbone and an angular jaw. He swung his head around and glanced at her for a split second, as if he suspected her of watching him. She panicked for an instant and held her breath. Luckily, he hadn’t lingered but went on to scan the rest of the room.
But oh my! When he’d turned, she’d gotten the full impact of his gaze and found him even more appealing than she’d originally thought. A crazy jolt of warmth surged through her body. The powerful sensation was new to Macy.
Butterflies replaced the turmoil in her stomach.
How strange.
She continued to grab eyefuls, shifting her gaze away occasionally to avoid being caught. She was grateful for her little disguise. It provided her freedom to peruse something more exciting than the auction.
The cowboy glanced over the seated bidders and up toward the podium time and again. He appeared anxious and impatient for the auction to begin.
A minute later, Ann Richardson took the podium with a welcome to everyone at the auction. After a cordial greeting, the CEO turned the microphone over to the auctioneer and he stepped up to the podium. The auction began and Macy watched as, one by one, bidders raised their paddles when the first gown was offered up.
Dear, sweet Avery sat vigilantly beside her, a pillar of quiet strength. When the auctioneer’s hammer fell, finalizing the winning bid, Avery squeezed her hand and whispered into her ear. “Just remember, your mother would want you to do this.”
Macy nodded and slid her eyes closed briefly. It was true. Her mother had loved her possessions, and heaven knew, she had not been good with money. But her mother had made a point of always making sure Macy had known that she, not her profession or her jewels, was the most important, most beloved thing in her life. Misguided as her mother’s life might have been, Macy knew she’d been loved. When her father, Clyde Tarlington, had died ten years ago, Tina might have given up, but she’d shown Macy what it was to be a survivor. To press on, even under adversity.
Once again, Macy glanced at her handsome cowboy, sitting patiently across the aisle. He’d taken off his hat, out of consideration to the people seated behind him, she presumed, as soon as the bidding had begun. His dark blond hair was well-groomed, thick and curling at the edge of his collar. The Stetson rested on his outstretched leg and Macy reeled in her wayward thoughts, thinking if she could only trade places with that hat.
The corners of her lips lifted at the idea. And Macy’s foolish heart skipped a beat.
His face was becoming familiar to her. He was a good diversion, a distraction that she couldn’t seem to shake. She was drawn to him, and she couldn’t figure out why. She lived in Hollywood, where gorgeous men were a dime a dozen. She’d acted in small movie roles opposite men more beautiful than any female starlet.
No, it wasn’t his looks that drew her to him. It was something else. He held himself with an air of confidence that belied his obvious discomfort seated in a venerable New York auction house.
She liked that about him.
For all she knew, he’d be more comfortable bidding on longhorn steers.
She liked that about him, too.
Another mental chuckle emerged. She had to stop fantasizing about him. Macy returned her attention to the auction, grateful to the cowboy for giving her something thrilling to admire while her mother’s life was being bartered away.
Soon the diamond rings would be up for sale.
Macy cringed and slithered down in her seat. She actually felt sorry for the people who wound up with them.
Three diamond rings. Three doomed marriages.
“The
