13. Maddie
Chapter thirteen
Maddie
Nemesis! She’s trying to scoop my story again!
She must have followed me from work. Hayden, our new “boss”—while my usual boss, Felicity, is out on medical leave—must have given Sarah the same lecture he gave me, that I need to up my game before the new recruits come in June, all fresh from journalism school.
But she and Hayden are close, so I thought he only gave me the lecture.
He then assigned me a sure-to-be-riveting story interviewing the Head of Sanitation about how they are preparing for an upcoming snowstorm.
I handed that in yesterday so I’d have the weekend free for the miniature show I plan to sell at.
Sarah probably saw us enter Strangelove, but neither Nick nor I saw her there. Did she wait outside? Did she see us with Demoraux? What if she interviews Demoraux? My blood runs cold. She might scoop me again. No . Then she would have followed him and not us.
Is she trying to prove that we are not dating?
Or figure out what I’m investigating? At least we looked romantic at dinner.
So romantic that I almost believed it myself that we were dating.
At least I finally had the chance to run my hand through Nick’s hair.
And the way he looked at me made my stomach quiver.
Was that real or part of the charade? And I’d been so tempted to kiss him.
Clause eleven strikes again. I had to remind myself that this charade is not supposed to make me want to kiss him.
Once we’re sure she’s gone, Nick and I continue on to our apartment building, entering through the deli entrance just in case. He waits at my door for me to unlock it.
“So…” he says, sounding a bit awkward. “See you tomorrow for the mini show?”
I nod, pleased that he remembered and that he even suggested that he come along. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
I smile and then step into my apartment and close the door softly behind me, blowing out a quiet breath. I pick up Sherlock and bury my face in his soft fur. I know I’ll be replaying tonight’s dinner in my dreams, but that’s what dreams are for.
Nemesis was not on the bus with us to New Jersey today for the mini show.
Only dealers are allowed in this huge hotel conference room right now to set up.
Nick is next to me, unpacking my felted miniatures to sell and arranging them on my table.
I glance at his profile. He’s so attractive, but he’s also such a good guy.
He really likes discussing my investigations.
He has good insights. A heaviness fills me that this dating relationship isn’t real.
The friendship is solid. That’s what counts.
And I’m at a mini show. Honestly, for someone who loves minis, a miniature show is pure heaven.
I’m not going to let thoughts of Nemesis ruin it.
Plus, I’m with Nick. He’d agreed at dinner last night to be my wingman because it’s hard to man the table all by myself.
Last time, someone actually stole a miniature silver tea set off a dealer’s table.
It’s a day with Nick and a mini show. I smile.
I sneak another peek at him. I can’t quite believe he’s here with me.
I set out a little box of minis priced at twenty-five cents each for kids to buy. When I was a kid, I loved finding miniature treasures at vendor tables.
“I can tell you want to check out all the other tables, so go ahead. I’ll watch this,” Nick says.
“Thanks so much! I can’t spend much, so I want to take a quick run around so I can think about what I want—what I absolutely love—before the show opens,” I say.
Nick smiles at me. “Have fun.”
This huge room has been filled with rows of tables, each with different vendors selling miniatures.
One table has handcrafted metal miniatures, like trash cans, kitchen sinks, and ranges.
They’re so realistic and detailed but way out of my budget.
Prices start at three hundred dollars. Another craftsperson is selling the most beautiful flowers.
So many choices! I narrow my picks down to a miniature teddy bear and an orange cat that resembles Sherlock.
I quickly buy those and return to my table.
The show door opens, and a wave of excited voices rolls over the room. The first person who reaches our table studies my little animals, picks one up, puts it down, and scurries away.
“Ouch,” Nick says. “I didn’t realize you face rejection in your mini endeavors.”
“All creative pursuits need a thick skin,” I say. The puppy she put down seems cute to me. I pat his fur and place him next to the other little dogs.
Nick glances at me, seeming to appreciate that I get it.
Luckily, that customer seems to be the odd one out, and our table is soon swamped.
“Surprise, surprise,” a voice says. One I recognize. I look up to see Deputy Commissioner Ward with two folded Fresh Direct bags under his arm. Those bags are huge when open. He must be planning to buy so much. He really is into the miniature scene.
“I didn’t expect to see you here selling,” he says.
“I like making my little felted animals, so I might as well make some extra income,” I say.
“Do you have an Etsy store?” he asks.
“No. I only participate in this show because then I can plan stock for it. My schedule is not that predictable, and I’d be afraid I couldn’t fulfill Etsy orders on time if I suddenly had to pursue a story.”
Nick handles another customer while I focus on Ward.
“You take your reporter career quite seriously,” he says.
“Of course.” Did I give him the impression I didn’t?
He narrows his eyes and stares down at my table as if absolutely gripped by my display. “This squirrel. It will be perfect for my park scene. I must have it.”
That’s quite a strong statement.
“Do you take cash?” He pulls out his wallet.
“Of course.” I fill out a receipt with the sales tax and hand it to him. He hands me the cash, and Nick stores it in our little metal cashbox.
“I can’t convince you to take requests?” Ward asks.
“Not usually,” I say. “But I have a mailing list, where sometimes I email my subscribers to see if anyone has any requests—when I’m not that busy at work.” I point to the sheet of paper on a clipboard. He writes his name and email address there.
“Is there something you want right now?” I ask.
“No, but when I’m in the middle of creating a scene, I have so many different needs,” he says. “Are you buying anything?”
“I bought this teddy bear.” I don’t share that I bought a cat too. He can’t use a bear for a street scene, but what if he says I must have your cat ?
“So far, I’ve only bought this microphone stand and boom stand for Deputy Commissioner Galliano. He’s always promoting his daughter Ophelia, so I thought he’d like it,” he says.
Interesting. Could Galliano be the right one after all?
Nick wraps the squirrel in tissue paper, places it in a box, and hands it over to Ward.
“I’m off,” Ward says. “Wish me luck. I have a long list of what I need for my next scenes.”
“Good luck!”
As he disappears into the crowd, Nick teases me, “Do you want to follow him?”
I smile but then say, “Do you think I’ll get some insights based on his purchases?”
Nick shrugs. “Probably not. But interesting that he paid in cash.”
“Right. Who pays in cash nowadays? Unless he’s receiving a lot of cash that he needs to get rid of.” He paid with a $100 bill. I stare at Nick.
I feel a jolt of electricity when his green eyes meet mine. I blink. Does he feel that too? Can it be this strong and just be me feeling it?
Focus on the investigation.
“I’ll try to meet up with him if he looks like he’s leaving,” I say. “Maybe I’ll get some clues if I engage him in a conversation about his job when he’s in this setting and less wary.”
“Sounds good.”
It feels so easy with Nick here. There are not that many young people.
Although most of the older female customers give him an extra glance of appreciation, the focus remains on the miniatures.
One young woman, though, has stopped by our table five times and talked to Nick exclusively.
She has yet to buy anything but says she is having trouble deciding and then leans in to ask Nick what he thinks. He seems happy to humor her.
But when he does become really famous? He won’t be able to do something like this. Obviously, this isn’t quite the thrilling experience for him that it is for me, but won’t he miss being able to do normal things?
“I’m starving,” Nick says.
“Don’t worry. I have snacks in my bag.” I offer him a choice. He takes the healthier granola bar, while I eat the M&M’s.
“Impressive,” he says.
My phone beeps. I check it and see that it’s Hayden. Hopefully, he liked my article.
“You made a face,” Nick says. “What’s the message?”
My shoulders dip. “Hayden assigned me a story—top ten best things to do in New York City for Valentine’s Day. He wants it on his desk by midnight Sunday. I thought I was done with these types of stories, but I guess I have to prove myself all over again. I hope Felicity comes back next week.”
“We can research that together,” Nick says.
I reach out and squeeze his hand. “That will make it more fun. Are you sure I’m not taking too much of your time?”
“Remember, this helps people think it’s real,” Nick says.
Yes, I need to remember that. This is all a facade. But it’s definitely messing with my head. I keep forgetting this is an act. Hopefully, the friendship part is still real. That can last forever—although if Nick marries someone… Okay, that thought hurts. I need to stop thinking about this.
“We should take the 3:00 bus back. I’m almost out of stock, and I should research this. I’ll text my girlfriends to see if they have any ideas. Lily wants to take Rupert to this super romantic café for Valentine’s Day. And Bella must have some ideas since she writes so many romances.” I text them.
“Ward’s leaving,” Nick says sharply.