The Collector
Page 78

“Quite a contrast for a man who’s gotten used to handling too much for too many. Let’s be social.” She took his hand, strolled with him into the gathering in the main living area. “Toots, I don’t think you’ve met my son.”
Toots? Ash thought, then resigned himself to the social hour.
Outside, Lila walked a wide white path between sharp blades of ornamental grasses and thorny rosebushes. And waited for her opportunity.
“Biff and I travel so much I never thought about getting a dog. So much trouble. But now . . .” Miranda held the leash while Earl Grey sniffed the grasses. “I’d love to have the name of your breeder.”
“I’ll get that for you. I really appreciate you inviting us tonight, and being so understanding about Earl Grey. I didn’t realize until Ash mentioned it, you knew his half brother Oliver.”
“Who?”
“Oliver Archer, he handled the estate sale through Old World Antiques for you.”
“Oh! I never put that together. He did mention he was Spence Archer’s son. I’d forgotten. Such a bother, all that estate business, and he was so helpful.”
“I’m sure he was.”
“Biff and I just couldn’t see the point in keeping that old house, and all the things. My grandmother collected everything.” She rolled her eyes. “You’d think it was a museum, full of stuff, musty old place.”
“Still, it must’ve been hard, selling off family things.”
“I prefer living in the now. Antiques are just old things somebody else already used, aren’t they?”
“Well . . .” In a nutshell, Lila supposed. “Yes, I guess they are.”
“And so much of it’s heavy and dark, or gaudy. Biff and I like clean and modern. Oliver—I remember him, of course—was a huge help. I should invite him out for a weekend this summer.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Oliver was killed a couple weeks ago.”
Instant shock and distress flew into her eyes. “That’s terrible! Oh, he was so young and good-looking. That’s tragic. How did it happen?”
“He was shot. It was all over the news.”
“Oh, I try never to listen to the news. Always so depressing.”
“There is that,” Lila agreed.
“Shot.” Miranda gave a shudder. “A mugging, a robbery, I guess.”
“Something like that. You sold him an egg.”
“There’s a good boy, going pee-pee. A what?” She glanced back at Lila. “An egg? Why would I sell anyone an egg?”
“A decorative egg. An angel with a chariot.”
“How odd. I don’t remember— Oh, wait. Yes, I do. God, it was so gaudy and old-fashioned. It had all these papers with it written in some strange foreign language. But Oliver was taken with it, and asked if I’d consider selling it to him outright. I didn’t see the harm.”
“The papers were actually for two eggs.”
“Really? Well, as I said, that old place was full of things. Biff and I are more minimalist.”
“Ash learned about it—he’s handling his brother’s estate. You know what that’s like.”
Miranda rolled her eyes wearily. “An enormous eater of time and energy.”
“Yes. And in going through all the papers, he learned Jonas Martin Junior lost the second egg in a poker game. To Antonio Bastone.”
“Bastone?” Something bright came into her face. “Was that it? There’s some family legend about that—some treasure wagered away. My grandfather—Jonas Martin—was the black sheep with a weakness for gambling and women.”
“Do you know the Bastones?”
“I dated Giovanni one whirlwind summer when we were in Italy—I wasn’t quite eighteen. I was wild for him, probably because my father didn’t fully approve due to this poker business.”
“Where in Italy, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Florence, at least we spent a lot of time in Florence. The Bastone villa is in Tuscany. Giovanni married some Italian model and had a herd of children. I haven’t seen him for years now, but we still exchange cards at Christmas. A woman only has one first love.”
“It’s a lucky woman to have an Italian first love with a villa in Tuscany. Did you ever talk about the egg his grandfather won from yours?”
“We had much more important things to talk about—when we talked. I should get back—I could stay out here with this little sweetie all night.” She gathered Earl Grey up in her hands. “Do you think he’s finished?”
“Yeah, I’d say we’re finished.”
By the time they circled back to the house, Lila steered the conversation into empty small talk by dropping the name of clients who also had a house in East Hampton. They parted ways when Miranda introduced her—as Leela—to two couples on the east terrace.
She let it go, decided Leela was a trust fund baby who dabbled in fashion design. She entertained herself with that persona for a few minutes, then excused herself to hunt for Ash.
He scooped her up from behind, an arm firm around her waist. “There you are. You have to see the view from the second floor.”
“I do?” she asked as he carted her briskly to the glossy white staircase.
“Yes, because my mother’s there, and I’m under orders to bring you up. I had to fill her in,” he added quietly.
“Did you?”
“I mostly filled her in. You can keep her entertained while I hunt up Biff Swanson and see what I can find out about the egg.”
“That’s not going to be necessary. Mrs. Crompton. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Monica. Let me see your ploy.”
“My ploy?”
“The famous Earl Grey.”
At the sound of his name, the dog poked his head out of the bag, gave one cheerful yip.
“I’m more inclined toward big, sturdy dogs, but he’s certainly cute. And he has a very happy face.”
“That’s his charm for me. Happy face.”
“First”—she took Lila’s arm, led her farther away from a small group of guests—“I’m going to apologize for Ashton’s father.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“I wouldn’t have left you alone with him if I’d known where he’d gone in his head. And as I had two children with him, I should have known, or guessed. His current wife and I don’t have much in common, or any particular liking for each other, but she would’ve been appalled if she’d known how he treated a guest in their home. As would Oliver’s poor mother, and Isabella—Spence’s third wife. So on behalf of all the formers and the current, I’m sorry you were treated so shabbily.”