Page 62 of Pride High 2: Orange
“Please,” Cameron interrupted in a strained voice. “I need to see you. Even if just for a minute or two.”
“Of course!” Charles replied instantly. “Come right over.”
The sky was dark when Cameron pulled up to a quaint cottage on the east side of town. He noticed two cars in the driveway, which was unusual, and felt a pang of guilt. Aware that he was interrupting plans, he promised himself not to stay long. Cameron lugged the nightstand to the front door, which opened as he neared.
Charles was framed in a rectangle of light. He wore jeans with a pale-blue blouse that matched his eyeshadow. His shoulder-length blond hair was freshly styled, his lips pink and glossy as he smiled in greeting. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” he said. “What’s in your cabinet of curiosities?”
“All my hopes and dreams,” Cameron said while still struggling with the nightstand. “You look nice.”
“Well itisFriday night,” Charles said, but his tones were teasing instead of chastising. “My goodness, there’s a chill in the air! Come inside.”
“Thanks.”
Cameron walked into a living room filled with so many antique treasures that the nightstand appeared plain by comparison. He could easily spend hours in this room examining each item, especially if Charles was in the mood to share his encyclopedic knowledge of such things. And he usually was.
“What do we have here? Is this the fabled nightstand?”
“It is,” Cameron said, setting it down. When working on any restoration, he often consulted with Charles, wanting to make choices that were appropriate to the era of manufacture. “What do you think?”
“Hmm… Let’s see.” Charles walked around the nightstand, squatting to check the drawer and open the cabinet door, before he asked Cameron to turn it all over so he could see the bottom.
“Late thirties, early forties,” Charles said as he stood again. “Most certainly pre-war. Gorgeous mahogany wood. Honduran seems likely. Even upon inspection, I would have thought—with one exception—that this piece had been well-taken care of rather than restored.”
“Thanks,” Cameron said proudly. “I tried really hard.”
“And you succeeded! I wouldn’t sell this for less than three hundred in my shop.”
“Nice!”
“Very.” Charles brushed at the top of the nightstand. “What are all these strange marks? I can tell you tried sanding them out.”
He was referring to a series of dents and pockmarks on the surface. “I think this used to be in a kid’s room. There was water damage from drinks—”
“The bane of my existence!” Charles hissed.
“—and what appeared to be indentations made by a hammer.”
Charles’s eyes narrowed. “Is there any chance we could find this child and take turns strangling him? Don’t look so shocked. The miserable wretch is probably of legal age by now. We’d be well within our rights.”
Cameron laughed. “I’m more concerned about the future owner. Do you think he’ll like it?”
Charles smirked. “In my day, a courting beau would give you his class ring or varsity jacket. Personally, I would have beenmuchhappier to receive this. I’m sure Anthony will agree.”
“It’s not very romantic,” Cameron said, still doubtful. “I thought about filling the drawer with rose petals or something.”
“Why not a more permanent gesture? You could engrave your initials or a special message somewhere.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“I’m happy to be of service,” Charles replied. “Speaking of which, from your tone of voice on the phone earlier, I don’t believe you rushed over here for an appraisal.”
“Oh.” Cameron averted his eyes. “It’s fine. You have plans with your husband, right?”
“We do have dinner reservations in half an hour,” Charles said, striding over to a grandfather clock. He opened the glass door and placed a finger beneath the minute hand, gently winding it backward. “Then again, it appears I have all the time in the world.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Cameron said.
Charles smiled playfully. “Do I look like the sort of person who does anything against their will? I’ve been making my own rules since before you were born. Now then, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
