Page 45 of The Maid's Secret

“First off, this isn’t a regular art auction,” says Brown.

“Think of it as televised theater,” says Beagle as he waves jazz hands at me, his ringed fingers glinting under the lights.

“This is my first auction,” says Juan.

“You never forget your first, am I right?” Beagle quips as he pokes Juan in the ribs.

Juan doesn’t reply.

“Coming through!” we hear. We move out of the way as a glass display case containing the Fabergé egg is wheeled into the room by guards in bulletproof vests. “Where do you want it?” one of them asks Steve.

“In my bank account,” says Steve, and everyone but Juan and I laugh. “Put it on the spike marks onstage between the podium and the Bees’ thrones,” he instructs.

Once the display case is set, Steve calls out, “Lights!” and as if by magic, a spotlight illuminates the Fabergé as it sits on its golden pedestal, safe under glass.

“Are you going to miss it, the Fabergé?” Beagle asks me.

“My gran taught me not to covet material things,” I say. “The only loss worth mourning is love.That’s what she used to say.”

“It’s a shame Granny’s dead—‘very dead,’ as I recall,” says Brown.

“I lost my grandfather a few months ago,” says Beagle. “It was hard.”

“He was a good man,” Brown adds as he puts a loving hand on his husband’s arm. “Dearly missed by us both.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I reply.

“We have just enough time for a quick run of show,” says Steve. “Juan, sit in that audience chair. If we cut to you, wave like crazy and jump around like you did last time, okay?”

“Okay,” says Juan as he sits in his spot.

“Molly, that’s your throne—with the monogrammedM.We had it specially made to commemorate our most popular guest ever,” Steve says.

“And our highest ratings to date,” Brown adds.

“Molly, you’ll join the Bees onstage for an intro, then we’ll cut to the sizzle reel,” says Steve. “After that, the auction begins. Baxley is our auctioneer, so he’ll take the podium. Expect lots of paddles in the air, Bax, and pay close attention to the dealers at the back. They’re on the line with art collectors all over the world. Got it?”

Steve looks from face to face, and I realize I’m the only one who still has questions.

“But how does it end?” I ask.

“Highest bidder wins. When that gavel comes down, Molly, it’s done. And you’re rich.” Steve claps his hands together. “Okay, let’s get everyone in here. Where’s the hotel manager? What’s his name? Mr.Sweaty?”

“Mr.Snow,” I say, my voice cutting over the crew’s guffaws.

“I’ll get him,” Angela volunteers, but before she leaves, she turns to me. “Don’t pass out this time, okay?”

“A live Fabergé faint!” says Steve. “Camera Two—zoom in close if it happens.”

Angela gives my hand a squeeze, then rushes off to find Mr.Snow.

“Let’s retire to the greenroom, Molly,” says Beagle as he takes my arm. “It’s almost showtime.”

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“And three, two, one…and we’re live to air!”

“Hi, everyone. Welcome to this special edition ofHidden Treasures,where I, Baxley Brown…”

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