“But I’m practically twitching, and she gave me that look most people reserve for small children or misbehaving dogs.”
Pressing a kiss against her temple, he said, “You’re more adorable than either of those things.”
She slid her hand through his arm and said, “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“As it was intended.” Together they stepped into the auction room, and both stopped in their tracks. “Holy moly,” he muttered.
“That’s one way to put it,” Snow replied.
Chapter 20
As if Snow wasn’t nervous enough already. The auction room—room being the understatement of the year—could easily house a college basketball game, including ample bleacher space on each side. A towering set of double doors bookended the long center-stage. The podium on the left was presumably for the auctioneer, and the entire floor was covered with row upon row of folding chairs. Other than two young men working on the stage, she and Caleb were the only people in the room.
“Where do we sit?” she whispered, having no idea why she felt the need to keep her voice down. It wasn’t as if they’d walked into a church. Though she’d never seen a church this big before.
“By the looks of things,” he said, “anywhere we want.”
Feeling small and out of place, she wrung her hands and said, “I need tea. Tea would be good.”
“Over here.” Caleb led her to a long table covered with a bright white tablecloth and loaded with several coffee dispensers, as well as two marked “Hot Water.”
Barely a minute later she was sipping a sweet cup of Earl Grey and feeling less jumpy. “That star of the show thing,” Snow said. “Do you think she meant that, or was she patronizing the crazy painting lady?”
“I told you, William Norton paintings don’t come up for auction often. Especially not in that size.” Caleb sipped his coffee as they strolled down the middle aisle heading for the stage. “I still can’t believe you got it for such a cheap price. Whoever runs that estate auction business in Ardent Springs needs to find another field.”
“That’s our fine mayor you’re talking about,” Snow said, turning into a row of chairs about ten back from the front. “Jebediah Winkle bought the whole setup not a month before you got here. The Presley family handled all the estate auctions three counties wide for at least fifteen years, but when the elder Presley passed away, his children weren’t interested in continuing. I think Jebediah bought it to earn himself some credibility with the local merchants. He got himself elected with the promise of improving the economy, and so far, he hasn’t done squat.”
“Considering nearly everyone I’ve met doesn’t like the man, I’m wondering how he got elected at all. Anyone can make a promise to turn things around, but if he’s a known jerk, why check his name on the ballot?”
“Don’t look at me,” Snow said. “I wasn’t around for the election. And anyway, I doubt he’ll get a second term.”
She almost mentioned how busy advertising at the paper would be the following year, with the election coming up, but she kept the thought to herself. Talk of the future would lead to talk of their future, and Snow was still avoiding that emotional quagmire. Though she couldn’t help but note that Caleb hadn’t mentioned returning to Louisiana since the weekend he’d arrived.
“Gerald says election time gets crazy at the paper. I could as much as double my regular commissions in the three months or so before voting day.”
Snow sat very still, unsure of how to reply. Did that mean he planned to be living in Ardent Springs a year from now? Presumably still married to her? This wasn’t good. He needed to start spouting bossy orders about living in Baton Rouge and taking his wife with him. How else was she supposed to send him packing if he no longer intended to leave?
“Darling?” Caleb said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?”
She gave a vigorous nod in the affirmative, but couldn’t speak. Fear and dread were strangling her vocal cords while simultaneously tying knots in her colon.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Caleb said. “The painting is going to be a hit.”
“Right,” she said, sipping her tea and reining in her monkey brain. “I just want this over with.” And she didn’t mean the auction.
Getting a hefty sum for the painting lost its luster when all she could think about was the possibility of a real happily ever after with Caleb. They could have that happy ending in Ardent Springs, away from the toxic influence of his parents. Why couldn’t she win for once? He’d picked her. He wanted her. And she wanted him.