Find Me Alastar(85)

I smile nervously. “Hello.” I hold out my hand and shake his. “I am Emerson Mathews, and this is my colleague James Sutherland. We are here from Chesters to photograph some art that we sold to you.”

“Ah, yes. I have been expecting you. This way, please.” He walks off and we smile at each other as we follow him. He opens a large set of double doors, which lead into a huge ballroom. My mouth drops open. Holy crap. Every single wall is full of beautiful artwork. “I believe the pieces you are here to photograph are here.” He points. “Here. Here, and on this wall.” He turns to his left. “I believe it is the six bottom pieces. And on this far wall, it’s all of the oils.”

I smile in awe. Shit! These were seriously expensive pieces. This collector must be loaded. “Thank you.”

James gets his camera out and starts clicking away while the man stands and waits.

I turn to him. “Is the owner here? I was supposed to be giving a brief interview with them. If today doesn’t suit, I can call through the week.” Jeez, this is the last thing they want to do when they are having a party. How inconvenient?

“Yes, Monica is out the back. I shall ask if she is available.”

He leaves us alone.

James and I look at each other and smirk in amazement.

“FYI: I’m going to try my best to shag Monica,” James whispers. “I don’t care if she’s a hundred. I need me some of her cash.”

“Me, too,” I whisper. “This is bullshit rich.”

“Totally,” he murmurs as he starts to snap away, taking pictures of all the artwork.

Ten minutes later, two women come into the hall—one around forty-five and immaculate, the other a younger hippie, arty type woman with long blonde ringlets in her hair.

“Hello.” The attractive older woman smiles. “I’m Monica, and this is my friend Tabatha.” She gestures to the blonde.

“Hello.” I smile nervously as I shake both their hands. “This is James.” James stops what he is doing and shakes their hands.

I take out my pen and paper. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I understand you are having a party and I really don’t want to inconvenience you?”

Monica smiles warmly. “Not at all, dear, but thank you for being so thoughtful.”

Oh, she’s a nice lady. I instantly feel relieved.

“Tabatha runs an art gallery in town.” Monica smiles proudly.

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

Tabatha smiles. “I’m trying my best. It was my late father’s.”

Monica pats her on the arm. “Now, now. Don’t be modest. You are doing a fabulous job. Your father would be so proud of you.”

Tabatha smiles gratefully.

“Her father and I were lifelong friends,” Monica adds. “I miss him dearly.”

My face falls. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I reply.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I must get back to the party, but Tabatha will show you around and do the interview, if that’s okay? She buys all of my art for me, anyway, so she knows more than I do about their origins.”

“Perfect.” I smile.

Monica starts to walk out and then turns back. “James?”

“Yes?”

“You are going to stay and take some photographs for my charity for the paper, aren’t you?”

He smiles, relieved that she remembered. “Certainly,” he replies.

“I have ordered dinner for you two and set you a place.”

James’s smile nearly splits his face. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Please… make yourself at home and stay for the whole evening if you like. I just ask that you stay around for the auction in around two hours to take some photographs of that.”

“Of course.” James nods. “Thank you for the opportunity. I will call you on Monday to check the wording of the copy that you want me to put with the story.” Her eyes hold his. “That would be very much appreciated.” She smiles and leaves the room.

I take out my pen and paper and turn to Tabatha. “Where shall we begin?”



* * *



An hour later, I look down at what I am wearing as I stand in the bathroom cubicle and brush my hands over my thighs nervously. I’m wearing a long-sleeved, ice grey dress with a fitted top and a little flared skirt that hangs just above my knee. I’ve complimented the outfit with nude high heels. and my hair is down and full. I knew there was a chance we would be hanging around for James to take the photos, so I had to find something that was a bit dressier than I would normally wear to work. I thought I looked okay, but now that I’m here, I’m not so sure. I feel underdressed, but then Tabatha seemed quite casual, too? It is an afternoon garden party. I’m unsure of the dress code for these things.

“Hurry up,” James whispers though the door.

“Okay,” I reply. “What’s the damn rush?”

I reapply my lipstick and fluff my hair up in the mirror before I open the door.

“I can’t believe we are at this party?” James whispers excitedly as he grips both my biceps.

I frown. “Why?”

“This is the clique?”

“The clique?”

“Anybody who is anybody will be here tonight. These fundraising parties are epic.”