It was indulgent and silly, but Evelyn wanted it. “How much for these five?”
The vendor extended his neck and examined her finds. Motioning with a dirty hand to the grouping of other blue glass along the table, he said, “I’ll give you all ten for five dollars.”
Evelyn smiled as Dugan withdrew his wallet. “And what about these?” she asked, gesturing toward the eclectic grouping of silverware spread out along the edge of the table. There were other items too, jars of old buttons, broken earrings that looked dated, tattered old black-and-white photos, and some vintage typewriter keys.
Before the vendor could answer, Toni stepped in. “What are you going to do with a bunch of mismatched forks and spoons, Evelyn?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re neat.”
“They’re tarnished,” Toni mumbled, her mouth drawn to the side in disapproval, dimple forming an unhappy divot in her cheek.
“They’ll clean right up with the right type of cleaner, ma’am,” the vendor offered pleasantly enough. She liked that he didn’t back down under Toni’s disapproval.
Dugan handed her a hundred-dollar bill, and Lucian’s sister scoffed. “This stuff is all crap.”
Evelyn frowned at her. The vendor obviously heard her. Now Toni was just being rude. She took the bill from Dugan and lifted her chin. “How much for all of it?”
With bulging eyes, the dealer said, “Uh . . .” He did a quick inventory of his goods. “Forty?”
“I’ll take it all,” Evelyn announced proudly, and Toni threw up her hands in exasperation, turning away from the table. The vendor grinned, wide and toothless, an expression of sheer joy on his haggard face.
“Do you have a bag?”
“I sure do, ma’am.” He quickly reached under the cloth of the table and pulled out a stack of newspaper and a crinkled, plastic grocery bag. Evelyn smiled and made small talk with the man as he carefully wrapped her treasures. Toni stood a few feet away tapping the toe of her expensive boot.
When he handed Evelyn the bag, it was heavier than she expected. Dugan relieved her of it and silently stepped back from the table. She held out the hundred-dollar bill for the merchant.
His expression fell. “Uh, I’m ’fraid I can’t break that, ma’am.”
“That’s okay,” Evelyn said in good spirits. “You keep it. Go get yourself some lunch and maybe buy something nice for yourself now that your afternoon’s free. I saw another vendor down that way selling gloves for a dollar, the nice warm kind.”
He looked at her hesitantly, his eyes weighing her sincerity. His gaze returned to the crisp bill being offered to him. She extended her arm a little more. When he still didn’t take it, she reached for his gnarled hand, opened his fingers, and closed them over the money.
“Thank you for all the beautiful treasures,” she said, and turned to find Toni.
Lucian’s sister awaited her with comic disapproval accentuating her posture. Evelyn had no regrets about her purchase. The change from the hundred dollars was worth the joy she put on that man’s face. The bag of treasures was just a bonus.
Her gaze caught on a small yellow taffy at the edge of the curb. Evelyn grinned and bent to pick up the overlooked treat left in the wake of the parade that morning, its waxy wrapper spreading a warm, nostalgic heat through her chest. When she stood and faced Toni, it was clear the other woman thought she was nuts. Evelyn didn’t care. The yellow ones were the best.
They walked from one end of Folsom’s classier district to the other. Evelyn’s toes were screaming to get out of her narrow-toed kitten heels by four o’clock. Thank God she had the good sense not to wear her dagger heels out today. If she had, she’d probably be leaving a trail of blood in her wake, which was still a possibility, even in kitten heels. Unless shoes had rubber soles she pretty much hated them.
By the time they neared the limo, Dugan was completely weighed down with boutique bags and designer boxes. Luckily, even the lacy wrappings of such a girlie outing couldn’t detract from his manliness. Dugan was a tree of a man and loyal to the bone to Lucian.
At six foot five, roughly three hundred pounds and not an ounce of fat, Dugan was all man. His gruff, thin lips tucked within the handlebars of his mustache gave him an unapproachable presence that allowed him the solitude he seemed to favor. His eyes, however, sometimes hinted at a much softer man beneath. She’d been working on getting his freak flag up for a while, but so far no such luck.
“Scout?”
Evelyn stilled and turned at the sound of her name. Scanning the pedestrians surrounding them, her eyes landed on the familiar, bouncing curls of Lucian’s friend Jamie. “Jamie, hi! What are you doing here?”
“I had a business lunch that was canceled, so I figured I’d walk around.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his Irish eyes smiling. “No Lucian today?”