Read Online Tell Me True by Karpov Kinrade - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karpov Kinrade
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account just for me and put so much in there I'm a little lost. The least I can do is get him something with it."
We walked into the modern building while other people in expensive suits and dress es checked in and took their numbered paddles to the main auction room. Bridgette looked through the program they handed her as I gave my name and picked up my number. "They have some amazing pieces being auctioned today," she said. "I didn't know some of these items were even available for private purchase."
"One of Ash's favorite works of art is being auctioned today. I have to get it for him."
We sat near the back and half-listened as the auctioneer went through his rapid introduction and began with the first piece, a little-known early Monet painting.
I knew the art I wanted wouldn't be up until the end, so I tuned out the nearly unintelligible words and turned to Bridgette. "We've set the wedding date for this weekend," I said.
Her eyes widened. "But that's so soon. What about Jon? What about his killer?"
"They haven't found the killer and we don't have all the answers, but life has to go on. We're still searching, trying to figure out what happened. Ash has his P.I. hunting for clues. We haven't given up, but we can't put our happiness on hold forever while we wait. We're going to have a small ceremony in a garden and then the reception will be later that day on the Davenport yacht."
A tear glistened in her eye but she wiped it away. "He was really amazing you know. Jon, he… there was a lot about him people didn't know, but he was kind of extraordinary."
I half-listened to the auctioneer introduce the next piece, a Van Gogh. Both Van Gogh and Monet weren't fully appreciated in their time. It wasn't until they died that their art was worth anything. I wondered how much we could really value anyone or anything until we'd lost it. Was Jon really that great and we just didn't see it? Or did he only seem that amazing because he was gone, and the bad parts faded under the weight of the grief over his loss?
My breath caught at the beauty of the next painting, one of El Greco’s later works, but I held my hand, waiting for the painting I knew Ash would love the most. When it came up, I raised my paddle nervously, having never done an auction before. Someone on the other side of the room outbid me, and I raised again, my heart beating in my chest so hard I swore everyone could hear it. A third person raised their paddle and I scowled at their backs wondering how high I should go before I gave up. In the end, only I and a woman to the right were left. She never hesitated to outbid me and sweat trickled down my back as I thought about how much money I was offering and what I could have done with that money.
I was about to give up when the woman hesitated, her head tilted to the side , and finally she shook her head and kept her paddle down. It took me a moment to figure out what happened.
Bridgette grinned. "You won, silly ! You got the paining. It's kind of morbid, though, isn't it?"
"It's a portrait of Saint Francis meditating."
The Davenports aren't religious," she said.
"I know, but something about the painting inspires him in some way."
She shrugged and stood. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"In a minute. I want to see what they saved for last."
She sighed and sat.
The door banged open, and Molly burst into the room and rushed over to us, sitting in the chair next to Bridgette. I held my breath, knowing this would not end well.
"Please don't be mad," she said, out of breath. "I just had to talk to you and you wouldn't take any of my calls."
I looked at Bridgette, surprised, but Bridgette just scowled at the pregnant woman. I could see her thoughts etched on her face, angry thoughts about this woman who had crashed Jon's funeral and claimed to be carrying his baby.
"I just want to know about him. About Jon. I want to know stories I can tell our child." She rubbed her stomach. Bridgette, eyes narrowed, hissed
We walked into the modern building while other people in expensive suits and dress es checked in and took their numbered paddles to the main auction room. Bridgette looked through the program they handed her as I gave my name and picked up my number. "They have some amazing pieces being auctioned today," she said. "I didn't know some of these items were even available for private purchase."
"One of Ash's favorite works of art is being auctioned today. I have to get it for him."
We sat near the back and half-listened as the auctioneer went through his rapid introduction and began with the first piece, a little-known early Monet painting.
I knew the art I wanted wouldn't be up until the end, so I tuned out the nearly unintelligible words and turned to Bridgette. "We've set the wedding date for this weekend," I said.
Her eyes widened. "But that's so soon. What about Jon? What about his killer?"
"They haven't found the killer and we don't have all the answers, but life has to go on. We're still searching, trying to figure out what happened. Ash has his P.I. hunting for clues. We haven't given up, but we can't put our happiness on hold forever while we wait. We're going to have a small ceremony in a garden and then the reception will be later that day on the Davenport yacht."
A tear glistened in her eye but she wiped it away. "He was really amazing you know. Jon, he… there was a lot about him people didn't know, but he was kind of extraordinary."
I half-listened to the auctioneer introduce the next piece, a Van Gogh. Both Van Gogh and Monet weren't fully appreciated in their time. It wasn't until they died that their art was worth anything. I wondered how much we could really value anyone or anything until we'd lost it. Was Jon really that great and we just didn't see it? Or did he only seem that amazing because he was gone, and the bad parts faded under the weight of the grief over his loss?
My breath caught at the beauty of the next painting, one of El Greco’s later works, but I held my hand, waiting for the painting I knew Ash would love the most. When it came up, I raised my paddle nervously, having never done an auction before. Someone on the other side of the room outbid me, and I raised again, my heart beating in my chest so hard I swore everyone could hear it. A third person raised their paddle and I scowled at their backs wondering how high I should go before I gave up. In the end, only I and a woman to the right were left. She never hesitated to outbid me and sweat trickled down my back as I thought about how much money I was offering and what I could have done with that money.
I was about to give up when the woman hesitated, her head tilted to the side , and finally she shook her head and kept her paddle down. It took me a moment to figure out what happened.
Bridgette grinned. "You won, silly ! You got the paining. It's kind of morbid, though, isn't it?"
"It's a portrait of Saint Francis meditating."
The Davenports aren't religious," she said.
"I know, but something about the painting inspires him in some way."
She shrugged and stood. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"In a minute. I want to see what they saved for last."
She sighed and sat.
The door banged open, and Molly burst into the room and rushed over to us, sitting in the chair next to Bridgette. I held my breath, knowing this would not end well.
"Please don't be mad," she said, out of breath. "I just had to talk to you and you wouldn't take any of my calls."
I looked at Bridgette, surprised, but Bridgette just scowled at the pregnant woman. I could see her thoughts etched on her face, angry thoughts about this woman who had crashed Jon's funeral and claimed to be carrying his baby.
"I just want to know about him. About Jon. I want to know stories I can tell our child." She rubbed her stomach. Bridgette, eyes narrowed, hissed
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