She motioned to one of the men unloading the truck. He wheeled a dolly over, stacked my boxes on it, and took them away.
“Come inside,” Tiberia said. “Let me show you what I’ve assembled for your gift bags so far.”
My day definitely needed a boost, so I said, “I’d love to.”
The interior of Distinctive Gifting was as elegant, serene, and sophisticated as Tiberia herself. Everything was decorated in soft whites and cool blues.
She led the way down a corridor and unlocked a door with the key she pulled from her pocket.
“My treasure trove,” Tiberia said, as I followed her inside.
“Wow . . .” I said. I might have moaned that.
I felt like I’d walked into Neiman Marcus—only better because it was all free.
Hundreds of items were stacked on shelves—jewelry, bottles of champagne, beauty products, cell phones, fragrances. There were vouchers for resorts, hotels, and memberships at celebrity spas. Designer brands, exclusive destinations, exquisite items, affordable only to the wealthy and elite.
Everything was fabulous—totally fabulous.
An image popped into my head.
“Do you happen to have the Enchantress evening bag here?” I asked. I’m sure I moaned that.
Tiberia gave me a knowing smile. “Ah, Haley, you are a woman of discriminating taste. But, alas, I have no Enchantress.”
Darn it. I was having no luck at all getting an Enchantress in time for Sheridan’s party.
“I suppose I could settle for one of the gift bags,” I said, and gave Tiberia an I’m-really-serious-but-I-want-you-to-think-I’m-kidding smile.
“All these beautiful items. How could you not want them?” she said. “Perhaps Sheridan will present you with one for the fabulous job you’re doing on her event?”
My spirits lifted—a little. Sheridan wasn’t happy with me right now, but after I recovered her Beatles bobbleheads surely she’d feel differently.
“More items are on their way,” Tiberia said as we left the room. “I’ll send you a complete list when I have everything.”
I thanked her and headed outside.
I’d left my totally fabulous Betsey Johnson bag in my car, so when I got in I checked my cell phone. Damn. Jack had called and I’d missed him. I tried to reach him, but my call went to his voice mail.
We couldn’t keep playing phone tag. I needed to talk with him before Muriel called with instructions on the ransom demand. I hadn’t wanted to leave him a message spelling out the situation, but if I didn’t get to actually speak with him soon, I’d have to.
I started my car and was backing out of the parking spot when my phone rang. Thanks God, Jack was calling me again.
“In what West German city did the Beatles perform in the fall of 1960?” Crap. It was Eleanor with another quiz question.
I’d read the Beatles book I’d bought—well, okay, I’d skimmed it—and I’d watched some of the stuff I’d downloaded, but I had no clue what she was talking about. So what could I do but say, “Jeez, Eleanor, you’d said your questions would get harder but this one is so simple. The Beatles performed in—”
I hung up.
What else could I do? I was already in enough trouble with Sheridan. I didn’t need Eleanor ratting me out about not knowing the answer to her who-really-cares-anyway question.
I pulled back into the parking space, accessed the Internet, then called Eleanor back.
“Hamburg,” I said, and hung up again.
I’m not sure my answer really counted since I didn’t answer it on the spot, but this would have to do.
My day definitely needed a boost—a big one. I headed west and took Pacific Coast Highway north. This was one of my favorite places to clear my head and put things into perspective. The view was spectacular along this stretch of PCH. High, rugged hills dotted with fabulous homes on my right, and the blue waters of the Pacific on my left, sparkling in the sunlight.
Ty floated into my head. Not long ago he’d offered to buy a beach house, if I’d move in with him. He’d sweetened the deal with a convertible and tons of new shorts, tops, bathing suits, cover-ups, sundresses, sandals, and flip-flops—okay, the clothes were my idea, but he’d have definitely been okay with them.
Now everything was different—real different. Ty was engaged—maybe. My heart started to hurt just thinking about it.
I’m not big on suspense, usually, but I hadn’t wanted to confront Ty and ask him outright. I’d put it off on Marcie, and that hadn’t worked out either. There was nothing left to do but handle the situation myself.
I accessed the address book on my cell phone and called Amber, Ty’s personal assistant. Yeah, okay, this wasn’t exactly the boldest move I could have made, but it was the only one I could manage.