All the bigwigs in town were present, including the mayor, Mr. andMrs , Mitchell, and Mr. Berkley. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,The snooty members were buzzing around, acting like they owned themultiacre building. Anyone who was anyone was at the auction. It was rumored that paintings, sculptures, and jewelry would be sold. Since not much else goes on in town, and since it attracted out-of-towners, too, this was a major event.
Annual Art Auction signs led the way to the banquet room I'd beento previously with Trevor. It was there that a ticket table had been set up. We waited in line behind several women decked out in their Sunday best. When it was our turn to buy tickets, the seller was surprised by her oddly attired customers. But I wasn't bothered. I acted like I didn't even notice, just like Mrs. Sterling did. Alexander was prepared to pay, but I insisted. "You need to save all the money you can,'' I said.
There was a buzz of self-importance. Old and young wealth rubbing elbows with other thoroughbred moneymakers. Sotheby's it wasn't, but the auction was a close second.
Members gawked at Alexander and me with disapproval. I couldn't wait until Mrs. Sterling arrived with her umbrella and turned heads.
The bar was filled with gossip, smoke, and drinkers. I was dying to get a soda, but I wasn't sure what the etiquette was- Would I have to pay for it? Tip? I opted to wait until my parents showed up.
Cookies and cakes were spread out on a few banquet tables and I managed to gulp down a few, but Alexander passed,
Alexander was as nervous as I was when I attended his parents' first dinner party. My boyfriend was used to being sequestered in a mansion, with Jameson and me as his only companions. Now he was in the midst of Dullsville's finest. Not only were there a lot of people, but his paintings were going to be sold in front of the entire town.
Outside the banquet hall, a table was set up for a silent auction fund-raiser, with such goodies as spa treatments, restaurant gift certificates, and discounts at Armstrong Travel.
As we approached the auction room, I grew anxious, too. This event could send Alexander packing his bags toRomania and me to my bedroom, grieving for the next ten years.
The auction room seemed like the ones I'd seen in movies. Lines of folding chairs were placed like pews in a church, facing a podium and an easel. We tried to slip in unnoticed, but for us that was impossible. Alexander and I grabbed two seats in the back, behind two tall club members,
I was ready to kick anyone who scoffed at my boyfriend's artwork.
This was a huge night for Alexander. He wasn't used to being around so many people. He fidgeted in his chair and I clasped his hand reassuringly.
"If you are really uncomfortable, we can leave," I offered. "We don't have to stay."
"No. I'm not leaving" Alexander said. "And neither are you. We are staying to see this thing through."
Dullsville's elite began entering the room in full fanfare. Alexander was the only true royal one, but the club members entered as if they were expecting their names to be announced like kings and queens.
Jameson entered on the arm of Ruby White, his girlfriend, along with Janice Armstrong, her business partner and my former employer at Armstrong Travel Agency.
Mr. Mitchell, an older version of Trevor complete withmoussed blond hair and khakis, arrived in the company of other millionaires and sat in the front row. Mr. Berkley came in a few minutes later and sat a few rows behind him.
With every person's entrance, my heart beat faster and my hands grew hotter.
My parents finally arrived and spent a fair amount of time greeting everyone they knew.
My mom eventually spotted us, and she and my dad came over.
"I think it's wonderful that you two came to the auction/' my dad said, shaking Alexander's hand.
"Maybe next year you can auction off your paintings, Alexander," my mom said.
"Sarah, we'd better get seats before it fills up," my dad suggested. "Good luck," they said, and found two empty chairs in the middle.
I felt a sudden commotion as members were focused onsomething out in the hallway.
Just then Mr. and Mrs. Sterling entered the room. Her open black and red umbrella was in hand, and she wore a skin-tight camisole dress and monster-size heels. Mr. Sterling walked in with his skull cane, wearing a suit, a flashy green tie, and his cape.
A huge smile spread across my face.
A few women fanned themselves with their auction signs. No one talked to theSterlings , but everyone talked about them. Whispers ensued as the gossipmongers were in top form.
The members were very curious about the locals-who arrived with who and what they were wearing-and just as curious about the strangers' conservative fashion choices. TheSterlings upstaged everyonein their attire.
The only ones who greeted them were my parents and Mr. Berkley.
I held up my hand to wave them over, but Alexander quickly clutched it.
"I want us to be alone on this."
Mr. and Mrs. Sterling eventually sat next to Jameson and crew.
Finally, Mrs. Mitchell stepped up to the podium. "Welcome to our annual auction. In a moment, I'll bring out your auctioneer. We'll be presenting art in many of its forms- pottery, paintings, sculptures, and wood designs. Thank you all for coming tonight. Good luck and good bidding."
The auctioneer, an elderly gentleman dressed in a suit, came out to the podium. A volunteer placed a glass-blown vase be jeweled with sparkling gems on a table. Its image was enlarged on a video screen behind the podium.
I was on the edge of my folding chair.
Mrs. Mitchell read a brief description of the vase. "The bidding starts at five hundreddollars "
"Five hundred dollars.That's a lot ofmoola !" I whispered.
"Shh."
"Whatever you do, don't raise your hand," I said, teasing. "No matter how much you want to buy it for me."
Alexander wasn't laughing. "I didn't price my work very high. Maybe I should have."
"Your paintings are much more valuable than a dumb vase."
Signs began to wave and the bidding price immediately soared. Within minutes the vase sold for over a thousand dollars.
"I wish I had something fancy to sell," I said, seeing dollar signs before my eyes. "I could make millions."
Even though I wasn't bidding, I got caught up in the frenzy. I could see whyDullsvillians waited all year for this event. It was like high-priced bingo, everyone waiting on the edge of their seats, wanting the glamorous prize, or hoping their item might make them millions-more than they already had, anyway.
A covered painting was brought to the easel. They unveiled it to a few gasps and whispers. It was a landscape of the country club itself.By Alexander. I was soproud, his artwork was displayed for all to see. No one even knew Alexander had painted it.