The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,146
in relief. “That’s what I think. Mother will retain her nurses, of course.”
“I wouldn’t rattle her cage too much. Keep things the same up there.” “We’re going to be saving … almost a hundred thousand dollars each month. But I feel bad, you know? I’m going to talk to each one of them myself.”
“You’ll hire ’em back. Not to worry.”
“I don’t know about that, Miss Aurora.”
“You’ll see.”
As she resumed chopping, she frowned and moved her shoulder around as if it was stiff. And then Miss Aurora paused, put down the knife and seemed like she was having to catch her balance with the help of the countertop.
“Miss Aurora? Are you okay—”
“I’m fine, boy. Just fine.”
Shaking her head as if she were clearing it, she picked up the knife and took a deep breath. “Now, go get your friend from out of town. That roast is drying in my holding oven, and I don’t want to be wasting all that meat.”
Lane searched her face. God, he felt like she lost more weight every time he laid eyes on her. “Miss Aurora—”
“The out-of-towner is here,” Lenghe said as he came into the kitchen. “And he is hungry—and ready to play poker.”
Turning around, Lane made a mental note to follow up with Miss Aurora. Maybe she needed more help in the kitchen?
“So,” Lane said as he clapped his palms. “We going to do this?” “The documentation could not be more impressive.” Lenghe took a seat at the counter after greeting Miss Aurora with a “ma’am.” “And the value is there.”
“I also checked with my tax guy.” Who had been a buddy of Jeff’s up in New York. “At our tax rate, which is the highest, long-term capital gains on a collectible is twenty-eight percent. My grandmother, as you know from the paperwork, paid a million dollars for the painting when she bought it. Accordingly, the tax man is going to be looking for ten million, nine hundred and twenty thousand from me.”
“So fifty million, nine hundred twenty is the magic number.” “Looks that way.”
Lenghe put his hand out. “You put up the painting, and I’m prepared to wire that sum to the account of your choice Monday morning if I lose. Or, if you’d feel more comfortable doing an escrow overseas, where there’s a market open right now, we can do that, too.”
Lane shook the older man’s palm. “Deal. No escrow necessary, I trust you.”
As they shook, Lenghe looked over at Miss Aurora. “You’re our witness, ma’am.”
“Yes.” Then she nodded at Lane. “And as much as I enjoy catering to our guests here at Easterly, you’ll be understandin’ that when y’all play, I’ll be prayin’ for my boy.”
Lenghe bowed his head. “I would expect nothing different.”
“Wash up for dinner,” she commanded as she put the knife down and turned to the stove. “I’m serving family style tonight in the small dining room.”
Lane headed for the sink across the way and Lenghe fell into step right with him. As he turned on the water, soaped up his hands, and passed the bar to the Grain God, he had to smile. Only Miss Aurora wouldn’t blink an eye at a poker game with over fifty million at stake—and just as blithely order a billionaire to wash his hands before sitting at her table.
Indeed, he loved his momma so.
FORTY-NINE
As Ryan Berkley took his time at the microscope, Gin went back for her flute and returned to sip at the Dom Pérignon as she waited. From time to time, she glanced into the cases there in the private area, where the diamonds were even larger than the ones displayed out in the open. Still, they were but chips compared to what Richard had gotten for her.
Assuming it wasn’t a CZ.
When Ryan finally straightened from the equipment, she said, “Well?”
“You’re right. VVS1. H—or maybe an I with medium blue fluorescents kicking the color up a grade.”
He went to another machine, an infrared light flashed, and he nodded. “No, it’s an H. You’ve got a hell of an eye, Gin.”
“Thank you.”
Ryan took a deep breath. “Okay. You have yourself a deal.”
To hide her relief, she took another draw from the champagne. “Good. That’s good.”
“You realize that five hundred thousand in gold is going to weigh just over twenty-five pounds?”
“Two bags. Twelve and a half in each. I can carry them just fine.” Her jeweler frowned. “That’s a lot of money just to walk out of here with. Are you going to be okay? Where are you going to put it?”