Read Online The Marsh Madness by Victoria Abbott - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Abbott
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theminute the last coffee cup was whisked away, we all stood up and headed back to the sitting room. I’d no sooner settled myself into a chintz-covered chair when the deal was done.
I didn’t have much of a role to play in any of the dealings, although I thought Vera had done surprisingly well by getting the price negotiated before we came. My role was like that of Miss Troy, purely decorative, I supposed, with unseen duties and abilities not necessary for this gathering.
The minute the trunk containing the Ngaio Marsh books was produced, the pace picked up. Vera and I checked out each volume. All thirty-two of them were in great shape. Vera kept her enthusiasm in check. To someone who didn’t know her, she would have seemed bored with the entire experience. But I recognized that little glint in her eye.
Vera had brought the amount agreed on in cash, and after the genteel and entirely unsuccessful tussle for the final price, she nodded to Uncle Kev, who handed over a large burgundy tooled leather pouch. I knew it contained the ten thousand. I hoped—as Kev had been in charge of the cash—that it still contained the right amount.
Chadwick glanced at his watch, and Miss Troy jumped to her feet, looking slightly panicked. Getting rid of the visitors once the deal was done fell to the minion. As a fellow minion, I was familiar with the process. Miss Troy nibbled her lip. But she didn’t have to worry about the awkward moment. The party was over.
Vera nodded to Uncle Kev to close up and carry the small trunk. We murmured our thank-yous. Vera’s was so mumbled it could have been anything. Uncle Kev gripped Miss Troy’s delicate hand in both of his in a vigorous good-bye handshake. He followed that with a rule-busting, jaw-breaking hug. Vera had rolled forward toward the front foyer and missed the faux pas. Mind you, I doubt she would have cared.
Chadwick sneered in polite contempt without moving from his lounging position, but Thomas the butler steppedforward with a look of alarm. Uncle Kev gripped Thomas’s hand and shook it too. “Thanks for everything, buddy. Really great lunch.” Kev gave him a playful jab in the bicep to top it off.
It was painful to watch, but I couldn’t look away.
I said, “Beautiful meal, lovely home, thank you so much. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” Even as I spoke I realized that in the world of the Kauffmans, I had probably sinned as much as Kev. In Ngaio Marsh’s culture and probably the Kauffmans, “one” didn’t ever comment about the possessions of others. Mentioning business after a meal was probably a gaffe of some magnitude.
I hurried after the others, glad I got to experience Summerlea and almost as glad to get away from Chadwick et al. I suppose I imagined Chadwick’s reptilian gaze on my back. It gave me a chill.
We exited the grand front entrance, Kev making sure Vera didn’t build up too much speed on the wheelchair ramp and me racing to catch up.
I gave one last glance at the silver Aston Martin and the red Mercedes convertible before we left.
From the window of the Caddy, Vera said, “We did well out of that. Can’t wait to get home.” Kev smirked at me through the rearview mirror, making me wonder how much he had liberated from the pile of cash. He gunned the Caddy and rocketed away. I turned back to see Thomas, the butler, staring at us from the front door. I hopped into the Saab and raced to catch up with them. Kev, as usual, cut it a bit fine as he passed a dusty white-and-blue delivery truck moving into the long driveway. I’m sure the driver saw his life pass before his eyes. As Kev made a sharp right turn at the stone pillars at the entrance to the property, a familiar trio of older ladies leapt back to avoid being splattered.
I waved apologetically to them as I drove past. It seemed to be too little too late.
One of them actually shook her fist while the otherspointed at us. Surely not a middle finger? But soon we were all out of
I didn’t have much of a role to play in any of the dealings, although I thought Vera had done surprisingly well by getting the price negotiated before we came. My role was like that of Miss Troy, purely decorative, I supposed, with unseen duties and abilities not necessary for this gathering.
The minute the trunk containing the Ngaio Marsh books was produced, the pace picked up. Vera and I checked out each volume. All thirty-two of them were in great shape. Vera kept her enthusiasm in check. To someone who didn’t know her, she would have seemed bored with the entire experience. But I recognized that little glint in her eye.
Vera had brought the amount agreed on in cash, and after the genteel and entirely unsuccessful tussle for the final price, she nodded to Uncle Kev, who handed over a large burgundy tooled leather pouch. I knew it contained the ten thousand. I hoped—as Kev had been in charge of the cash—that it still contained the right amount.
Chadwick glanced at his watch, and Miss Troy jumped to her feet, looking slightly panicked. Getting rid of the visitors once the deal was done fell to the minion. As a fellow minion, I was familiar with the process. Miss Troy nibbled her lip. But she didn’t have to worry about the awkward moment. The party was over.
Vera nodded to Uncle Kev to close up and carry the small trunk. We murmured our thank-yous. Vera’s was so mumbled it could have been anything. Uncle Kev gripped Miss Troy’s delicate hand in both of his in a vigorous good-bye handshake. He followed that with a rule-busting, jaw-breaking hug. Vera had rolled forward toward the front foyer and missed the faux pas. Mind you, I doubt she would have cared.
Chadwick sneered in polite contempt without moving from his lounging position, but Thomas the butler steppedforward with a look of alarm. Uncle Kev gripped Thomas’s hand and shook it too. “Thanks for everything, buddy. Really great lunch.” Kev gave him a playful jab in the bicep to top it off.
It was painful to watch, but I couldn’t look away.
I said, “Beautiful meal, lovely home, thank you so much. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” Even as I spoke I realized that in the world of the Kauffmans, I had probably sinned as much as Kev. In Ngaio Marsh’s culture and probably the Kauffmans, “one” didn’t ever comment about the possessions of others. Mentioning business after a meal was probably a gaffe of some magnitude.
I hurried after the others, glad I got to experience Summerlea and almost as glad to get away from Chadwick et al. I suppose I imagined Chadwick’s reptilian gaze on my back. It gave me a chill.
We exited the grand front entrance, Kev making sure Vera didn’t build up too much speed on the wheelchair ramp and me racing to catch up.
I gave one last glance at the silver Aston Martin and the red Mercedes convertible before we left.
From the window of the Caddy, Vera said, “We did well out of that. Can’t wait to get home.” Kev smirked at me through the rearview mirror, making me wonder how much he had liberated from the pile of cash. He gunned the Caddy and rocketed away. I turned back to see Thomas, the butler, staring at us from the front door. I hopped into the Saab and raced to catch up with them. Kev, as usual, cut it a bit fine as he passed a dusty white-and-blue delivery truck moving into the long driveway. I’m sure the driver saw his life pass before his eyes. As Kev made a sharp right turn at the stone pillars at the entrance to the property, a familiar trio of older ladies leapt back to avoid being splattered.
I waved apologetically to them as I drove past. It seemed to be too little too late.
One of them actually shook her fist while the otherspointed at us. Surely not a middle finger? But soon we were all out of
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