Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,11
toward the hallway in the library’s direction. “But I do know that we might be finished setting up before midnight now.”
Addie glanced questioningly at the other man, who had clearly caught the attention of her cousin as she fluttered her lashes and coiled strands of her long hair around a finger.
“Forgive me, Addie.” Blake’s voice broke the spell that engulfed the foyer. “This is my nephew, Garrett Edwards, my brother’s youngest.”
Garrett smiled fleetingly at Addie before returning his focus to Kalea, mirroring her teasing stance as he swept a shock of raven-black hair from his forehead. It was clear to Addie that these two were locked into a mutual-admiration ritual that left her with the discomfiture of intrusion.
“Addie,” Kalea murmured, “Garrett was just telling me that he’s recently graduated with his MBA from Harvard and is going to take over Blake’s company when he retires. Isn’t that wonderful?” She cooed, locking her eyes with Garrett’s.
Addie did an inward eye roll. For all her cousin’s protests and declarations, Kalea hadn’t changed at all since college.
Blake leaned toward Addie and cupped his hand around his mouth. “My retirement won’t be for a few years yet, my dear,” he whispered. “It was a carrot his father and I had to dangle for him to come and work for me.” A sly glint glimmered in his eyes.
Addie smiled apologetically at Blake. “Kalea, I hate to interrupt, but I’m starving, and I need a coffee. Besides, I think we’ve kept Blake and Garrett long enough. I’m sure they’re busy.”
Blake grinned and motioned to the door. “Thank you again, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Addie, bright and early.”
Addie sensed he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that his poor nephew was being reeled in by someone akin to a black widow and wasn’t going to miss the opening Addie had left for their hasty departure.
As Kalea and Garrett exchanged a few whispered parting words, her fingers trickled along his forearm. She then flipped her amber waves behind her shoulder and topped it all off with a come-hither smile as she turned toward the front door. It swung open and a small crowd of people spilled into the foyer, forcing Addie’s group backward for fear of being trampled.
Addie’s hand shot to cover her mouth to suppress the hysterical laugh that the scene conjured in her mind: a gaggle of squawking geese. She really needed to eat. Something. Anything. Would Kalea notice a missing granola bar from her purse? No laugh escaped but the ungodly sound from smothering it did manage to slip past her lips. Thank heavens Blake picked that exact moment to approach the group of eight and hadn’t heard the ghastly noise she’d made.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Blake Edwards of Edwards Auction House. Are you here for the brokers preview?”
“Yes, we are,” a sandy-haired man singsonged in an Irish lilt as he produced a card from the inside pocket of his navy blazer, presented it to Blake, and extended his hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Edwards. I’m Philip Atkinson of Dublin . . .”
Addie’s knees turned to Jell-O and her peripheral vision blurred. Disembodied voices drifted in and out of her head, but she couldn’t make out any words. Philip Atkinson?
Addie had never met the man, but she’d had more than her share of unpleasant dealings with him on the phone and by e-mail when she worked at the British Museum. He was a ruthless broker who would stop at nothing to acquire whatever book or relic his high-paying clients paid him to secure.
Addie struggled to refocus on the group just as they moved toward the registration table.
Blake touched Addie’s elbow. “Addie, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. There have just been a few surprises today, and I guess with not eating, it all got the best of me.”
“Would one of those surprises include seeing Mr. Atkinson again?”
“You know?”
“Only what your father told me.”
Addie scanned the foyer on the lookout for prying ears. “Which was what?”
“Only that Atkinson tried to tarnish your reputation as an appraiser at the British Museum by accusing you of being a fraud.”
“Did Dad tell you why that all happened?”
“No, but I could tell he was very upset. He even called and asked me to accompany him to London to help you out, but that was the last word I heard about it. So I assumed you managed to salvage your good name on your own. You did, didn’t you?” Blake’s eyes narrowed.