collector, dolls are about fashion history. The interest lies with the clothes. The more well preserved the costume, the more valuable the doll. The best prices go to the doll that is as pristine as her wardrobe.”
Edwina’s intake of breath was audible as she eyed the Van Orr collection that spanned over two hundred years. There were nineteenth-century fine German bisque child dolls, exquisite French hand-painted bebés from the late eighteen hundreds, a stunning selection of modern fashion dolls from the nineteen fifties and sixties, and anything important made between.
Edwina eyed Victoria’s skirt and blouse. “Since you obviously know something about couture, perhaps you can understand the passion we collectors have for preserving history.”
Victoria thought it interesting that Edwina’s passion for wearable art didn’t extend to her personal wardrobe, but she registered it as an observation, not as a judgment. She smiled inwardly. Maybe Edwina was a “regular girl,” too.
Victoria said, “This 1865 French Fashion poupeé with the rare, exceptional condition Rohmer leather body has her original trunk and an extensive wardrobe of perfectly preserved, hand-tailored fashions and accessories. Is this the doll you came to see, Mrs. March?” The Rohmer was the crown jewel of Lydia Van Orr’s celebrated collection, which had been featured in several upscale decorator and doll magazines.
Edwina’s voice dropped to a devotional whisper. “May I get a closer look?”
Victoria slid the showcase doors aside and watched while the other woman inspected the doll with reverence. Twenty years ago, James’s first wife had invested thirty-five thousand dollars in the Rohmer.
Over a year’s salary, Victoria had marveled when she’d learned the cost during her first months of marriage. Today, the doll and her accessories were worth several times that, and counting.
When Victoria met James she’d been a management trainee in the cosmetics department of a mall luxury store, making twenty-five thousand dollars a year, maybe a little more with commission. She’d lived in a cramped, noisy duplex in the heart of nearby Downingtown. A parade of roommates moved in and out, leaving behind one scruffy calico cat that belonged to everyone and no one. Up until then, the apartment had been the best place she’d lived since she’d put Ohio, and her past, behind her.
Victoria brought her attention back to the woman studying the Van Orr dolls. According to Steve Carlson, the collection was worth over a half-million dollars—an amount she couldn’t have fathomed before her marriage. The dolls would be featured in an exclusive auction if buyers weren’t found beforehand.
She studied the Rohmer while Edwina March oohed and sighed over the impressive display. Victoria admired the doll’s beauty and historical significance, but viewed it only as part of a past she needed to let go.
*****
Steve readjusted the front of his jeans, grabbed his receipt book, and strode to the door while Victoria showed their customer the Van Orr doll collection. He could kick himself in the ass. What the hell did he think he was doing, kissing James’s widow? He’d sworn he wouldn’t screw up another relationship. Had he lost his damned mind?
Yeah. That had to be it. He’d gone nuts. But being anywhere within ten feet of Victoria Van Orr had an effect on him he couldn’t seem to control. Didn’t want to—obviously. And everyone in town knew what happened when he lost his head over a woman. Just ask Jimmy Van Orr. He’d be glad to refresh the memory of anyone who forgot. Jimmy never missed a chance to rub salt in the wounds.
Steve had to get out of there and cool off. He needed to leave Victoria alone and stop being an idiot. Jesus, he’d practically had sex with her right in the middle of the store.
When she’d pressed against him, and he had wrapped her in his arms, sex was all he could think about. His mind had gone blank to
Edwina’s intake of breath was audible as she eyed the Van Orr collection that spanned over two hundred years. There were nineteenth-century fine German bisque child dolls, exquisite French hand-painted bebés from the late eighteen hundreds, a stunning selection of modern fashion dolls from the nineteen fifties and sixties, and anything important made between.
Edwina eyed Victoria’s skirt and blouse. “Since you obviously know something about couture, perhaps you can understand the passion we collectors have for preserving history.”
Victoria thought it interesting that Edwina’s passion for wearable art didn’t extend to her personal wardrobe, but she registered it as an observation, not as a judgment. She smiled inwardly. Maybe Edwina was a “regular girl,” too.
Victoria said, “This 1865 French Fashion poupeé with the rare, exceptional condition Rohmer leather body has her original trunk and an extensive wardrobe of perfectly preserved, hand-tailored fashions and accessories. Is this the doll you came to see, Mrs. March?” The Rohmer was the crown jewel of Lydia Van Orr’s celebrated collection, which had been featured in several upscale decorator and doll magazines.
Edwina’s voice dropped to a devotional whisper. “May I get a closer look?”
Victoria slid the showcase doors aside and watched while the other woman inspected the doll with reverence. Twenty years ago, James’s first wife had invested thirty-five thousand dollars in the Rohmer.
Over a year’s salary, Victoria had marveled when she’d learned the cost during her first months of marriage. Today, the doll and her accessories were worth several times that, and counting.
When Victoria met James she’d been a management trainee in the cosmetics department of a mall luxury store, making twenty-five thousand dollars a year, maybe a little more with commission. She’d lived in a cramped, noisy duplex in the heart of nearby Downingtown. A parade of roommates moved in and out, leaving behind one scruffy calico cat that belonged to everyone and no one. Up until then, the apartment had been the best place she’d lived since she’d put Ohio, and her past, behind her.
Victoria brought her attention back to the woman studying the Van Orr dolls. According to Steve Carlson, the collection was worth over a half-million dollars—an amount she couldn’t have fathomed before her marriage. The dolls would be featured in an exclusive auction if buyers weren’t found beforehand.
She studied the Rohmer while Edwina March oohed and sighed over the impressive display. Victoria admired the doll’s beauty and historical significance, but viewed it only as part of a past she needed to let go.
*****
Steve readjusted the front of his jeans, grabbed his receipt book, and strode to the door while Victoria showed their customer the Van Orr doll collection. He could kick himself in the ass. What the hell did he think he was doing, kissing James’s widow? He’d sworn he wouldn’t screw up another relationship. Had he lost his damned mind?
Yeah. That had to be it. He’d gone nuts. But being anywhere within ten feet of Victoria Van Orr had an effect on him he couldn’t seem to control. Didn’t want to—obviously. And everyone in town knew what happened when he lost his head over a woman. Just ask Jimmy Van Orr. He’d be glad to refresh the memory of anyone who forgot. Jimmy never missed a chance to rub salt in the wounds.
Steve had to get out of there and cool off. He needed to leave Victoria alone and stop being an idiot. Jesus, he’d practically had sex with her right in the middle of the store.
When she’d pressed against him, and he had wrapped her in his arms, sex was all he could think about. His mind had gone blank to
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