Page 33 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

I rubbed my stomach. “I have thought of nothing else.” Lie. Technically I’d thought a lot about the woman who ran into me and stole my cash.

I shook off the thoughts as I entered the kitchen where Christophe was holding a wooden spoon up in front of Emily. My daughter sipped from the ladle and made a groaning, appreciative sound.

“Good,non?”

“So yummy, Uncle C. You cook the best food,” Emily offered, reminding me that there was a sweet girl hiding behind that combative teen angst.

“Merci, chéri.Why don’t you set the table as I finish up here,” he instructed.

She jumped to help, already knowing where everything was as we visited Alana and Christophe a few times a year. Whenever Alana had her quarterly auctions, Emily and I would pop in from Los Angeles. The flight was short, and they were great company. Really the only extended family we had, besides her mother, and my parents, who were living their best retired life down in Florida.

I greeted Christophe and then eased into a bar stool where I finally started to relax.

Alana poured three glasses of red wine and a sparkling cider for Emily in her own wine glass, something I knew Emily wouldappreciate since she wanted to be twenty-five like yesterday, instead of the thirteen-year-old she currently was.

I accepted one of the glasses and watched as Alana set one down on the counter next to where Christophe was pan frying pork chops. She placed her hand against his back in an encouraging manner while she peeked over his shoulder at the sauteed peppers and onions he was also cooking. He smiled and then quickly bent down and kissed the crown of her head.

I watched them move around the other, a well-practiced melody they’d perfected over the thirty years they had been together. I had hoped to have that with Portia, Em’s mother, but it wasn’t in the cards. I also didn’t see a romantic relationship happening any time in my near future, as I rarely made it out on dates anymore, preferring the solace of my work over the uncertainty of dating.

“Last we spoke, you mentioned something about looking into land in Montana and having me build you a home there. What could possibly have stoked your interest in Montana?” I asked.

“We have made new friendships there. People we connected to and look forward to spending more time with.” Christophe answered.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

Over dinner they told me a wild story that could be made into an action-packed blockbuster movie for how incredibly unbelievable it all sounded. And all of it surrounded a pair of down-on-their-luck sisters who’d been in her last auction.

“So, you’re now close to Dakota and Savannah who were candidates, the bidders, and their extended families?” I asked while shoveling in a delicious bite of porkchop with a dollop of homemade applesauce on top. “You haven’t befriended clientele in that manner in a long time,” I added.

Alana nodded. “True. I have felt a change come over me as of late. A need to connect to others outside of my Christo,” she said while looking at her husband with pure adoration.

He reached out a hand to hers and squeezed. “My wife is broadening her horizons. She is learning that she doesn’t have to let all of these people leave her life for good once she’s befriended them during the auction process. And one of them is pregnant with twin girls, and you know how my Alana loves to dote on the little ones as we were never blessed with any of our own.”

“Well, I love you like a second mother, Auntie Alana,” Emily announced. “You’ve always been one of my favorite people on the planet. You’re so cool, and beautiful, and you dress awesome,” my daughter breathed with awe.

Alana reached out and cupped my daughter’s cheek. “And I love you,ma douce,” Alana cooed.

Emily preened under Alana’s praise. Goodness, how I wanted her to have that every day.

“We’re just getting to the point in our lives where we want to spend more time with friends, who are the family we choose, rather than working nonstop.” Christophe answered.

“Are you talking retirement? Do artists do that?” I frowned, not sure how that worked.

Christophe chuckled and shook his head. “Non. An artist rarely retires, but we do stop taking commissions and planning regular gallery exhibitions. Alana, however, has hired a protégé.”

“You mean you’re going to retire from the auction business?” I gasped and focused on Alana.

Her lips twitched but she didn’t respond right away. “Perhaps one day. We shall see. Depends on what the future will bring.”

“Well, if Uncle C decided to stop creating new artwork for Auntie to sell in her auction, then it would make sense that shewouldn’t be working much, right?” Emily surmised incorrectly. We’d never told Emily what type of auction Alana ran. She assumed based on Christophe being an artist that she sold art. We simply never corrected her, and I didn’t plan to.

I tossed my cloth napkin on the table after I wiped my mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day when Alana Toussaint wasn’t burning the midnight oil, trying to connect bidders and clientele to one another,” I said cryptically.

Alana laughed. “One must always keep their options open, darling. Especially when it comes to living the life you want.”

* * * *

Later that evening, Emily was crashed out in the living room watching a movie when Christophe waved me over to the balcony. I held up a finger, gesturing that I’d be out in a minute, then went to my sport coat to grab the two cigars I’d brought for this evening.

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