I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and tossed the money on the ground.
“Go fuck yourself, Cort.”
Cort got me so riled up I ran to my car and tore out of the parking lot. Several people we knew had seen the conclusion of our match, and now that I had some distance, I was embarrassed. I never acted that way in public, much less with a friend like Cort. This situation with Carter was making me say and do things I normally wouldn’t do.
When I arrived home, there wasn’t a single car in the driveway, which meant the lunatics had probably gone shopping. What I wanted, no, needed, was Carter. I pulled out my phone and texted him.
Hey babe
Remember that romantic Italian place in Goochland we used to go to?
Ten minutes passed, and I texted again.
Let’s go tonight.
Half an hour later. Nothing.
Please?
Chapter 6
Carter
“Ooh, look at these antique vases.” Mom gingerly picked up a pink crystal one, then flipped it over. “These are perfect, and look at the price. I already know several clients who would pay triple this amount of money without batting an eye.”
“Whoever died had exceptional taste.” I whispered. “Grab the entire collection, Mom.”
My mother lived to shop, so we hit up these estate sales as much as possible. Even though the showroom turned a decent profit, it was nothing compared to the design portion of the business. But it kept Mom happy and gave her something to do. I’d learned from a very young age that Mom must always be busy and feel wanted. Otherwise, she cooked up drama. It was probably where I got my penchant for theatrics, though I was working on that with Belinda Therapista.
“I thought we were coming for throw pillows.” Mom said, then she waved a bejeweled hand toward one of the people running the sale. “We’ll take all of these. Please hold them for us since we’re still browsing.”
“I haven’t seen any worth buying.” I tilted my head toward a threadbare Italian vintage sofa, which looked to be from around 1950. There were two tasseled pillows on it that had seen better days.
“Where does Marjorie get most of her accessories?” Mom took my arm and steered me toward the stairs. We were in a Victorian era home in Crozet next door to railroad tracks. How the owners could stand the noise baffled me. “She might be a bitch, but she has excellent taste.”
“Mom.” I shook my head at the curse. “She’s not that bad. Anyhow, most of her furnishings have been in the family for generations. You’d have to ask Asher’s grandmother, Clair. Marjorie’s always busy working at the law firm.”
“You mean always drinking, at work, at home, wherever she can find a bottle.” Mom murmured, picking up the corner of a stunning quilt. “Wow, look at the craftsmanship. Too bad our customers wouldn’t like it.”
“Do you like it, Mom?”
“Oh, I love it. It would be perfect for cold winter nights in front of the fireplace.” Mom smoothed her hand over the red, white, and green material.
I waved at one of the workers. “We’ll take this, please.”
“Oh, sweety, you don’t…”
“If it makes you happy, Mom, it makes me happy, too.” I grinned, delighted to see Mom’s face light up. “Now if I could figure out how to make Asher happy.”
“Oh honey, you just keep being yourself, that’s all.” Mom pecked me on the cheek. “And keep your mouth shut about you-know-what.”
“This is ridiculous. Lying to Asher will only backfire in the long run. Lies always do. That’s why you and Dad divorced.” I saw a painting of a horse and pointed at it. “You’re the art expert. Look at that painting and see if it’s worth anything, because we have several clients who’d pay through the nose for something like that.”
“Your father lied constantly.” Mom breezed by me, stopping in front of the painting. I hurried over to her. “He couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
“But you’re encouraging me to lie, too.”
“No I’m not.” Mom bent down to examine the signature at the bottom corner of the canvas. Her arm shot up, waving at a worker. “We’ll take this, please.”