1. Chapter 1 #3
In SoHo, my displeasure would have sent a clerk scrambling to rectify the situation. But Mr. McFarland, despite knowing who I was, seemed immune to the frown I directed at him.
“Sir.” I rested a hand on my hip. “First you attempt to deceive me with this illusion, then you tell me I can’t have the mirror you just promised to sell me. This is unacceptable.”
His face paled but his voice was anything but weak. “I’m terribly sorry, but that mirror is not for sale.”
I blinked. Nobody had ever taken such a firm tone with me, and certainly not some shopkeeper.
“I see.” I spun on my heel, determined never to set foot inside this tacky store again.
But Austen Heights didn’t have many stores to choose from and unless I wanted to spend all my time driving to other towns, it would be best not to burn bridges with this man.
“Good day,” I called over my shoulder. It was as much politeness as I could muster as I stormed out of the shop, Sydney at my heels.
Phillip smiled shyly as he passed us on his way back inside, his eyes lingering on Sydney. Suddenly, my path to the mirror became clear. When we were far enough down the street that they could no longer see us, I turned to her. “Okay, new plan. I’ll distract Mr. McFarland while you get the mirror.”
She gave me a flat look. “I’m not stealing it for you.”
“I don’t want you to steal it. That would be such a trashy move.” I tossed my hair.
“And dishonest?”
Two women in deep conversation walked past us on the sidewalk, and I had to step to the side to prevent them from bashing right into me.
“Yes, that too. We’ll buy the mirror. We’ll even pay more than it is worth. But I have to have it, Sydney. That mirror is the piece I need for Catherine de Bourgh’s formal dining area.”
“Which you haven’t been hired to redecorate.”
“Which I am going to be hired to decorate once she sees how talented I am. But first I must have that mirror.”
A car roared by, shattering the peaceful vibe of the street. I glared at the driver and his muffler-less hot rod.
Sydney pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you weren’t able to bully Mr. McFarland into selling you the mirror, I don’t know what you think I’m going to be able to do.”
“You’re not going to be dealing with him, Sydney. You’re going to convince that sweet assistant to sell you the mirror. I’ll distract the owner.”
She fixed her judgy amber eyes on me. “Gross, Caroline. I’m not flirting to get you a mirror.”
I rested my perfectly manicured hands on my hips. “Name your price.”
She squared her shoulders. “If I get you the mirror, you have to start calling me by my actual name.”
“Absolutely not. Carolyn is much too similar to my name. That’s non-negotiable.”
A glint of powder blue caught my eye, and I turned as a car drove slowly past. The driver wore sunglasses, but I’d know that amazing hair anywhere. Was he following me? I tried to meet his eye but he turned away and sped up.
Sydney shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “How about at least calling me by my middle name?” She cocked her head, daring me to compromise.
“I’ll consider it. What’s your middle name?”
“Anne.”
“Too basic. We aren’t basic, Sydney.”
She twirled a strand of her now-glowing hair around one finger. “I could be basic.”
“No, you cannot. Name another price.”
A dramatic sigh escaped her lips. “Fine. I want a ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ Card.”
“A what?”
“Look, at some point, I’m going to do something that will make you angry. Nothing incompetent, just something for your own good that you don’t like. You have to agree, in advance, that you won’t fire me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”
Her eyes gleamed with that touch of mischief, which was why I hired her in the first place. “Fine. One ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ Card in exchange for the mirror.”
She grinned triumphantly, which had me wondering if she’d somehow gotten the better end of the deal.
Maybe I should place a few more limitations on that ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ Card.
I turned to tell her just that when I caught sight of the blue car again.
It had gone around the block and was turning back onto the street where we were standing.
Uh oh. Meeting an attractive stranger twice in one day was a coincidence, maybe even fate. Three times meant I had a stalker.
I’d hoped that being disinherited would have meant I didn’t have to deal with things like this anymore.
I spun on my heel and pushed back through the door of The Trinket Trove before the stalker could get close.
Sydney followed me in, her brow ruffled in confusion.
“Tell me when that car is gone,” I whispered.
Mr. McFarland startled at my reappearance. “Reggie.” I pasted my smile on. “I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself from that fraud you just attempted.”
Sweat broke out on his forehead again.
“My brother Charles has quite the collection of magical artifacts and antiques at Netherfield Park that I’d like you to appraise.”
An ingratiating smile came over his face. “It would be my pleasure.”
“I trust you don’t need the address?” I asked.
“No.”
“Good. I’ll see you in an hour.” I turned and left before he could say another word. Let him remember who was in charge.