“The markup is what makes it charity.”
“Well, I suppose so. Oh, I don’t—thank you. Okay,” I say to the waiter, accepting another flute of champagne.
“Read it to me,” Anthony says.
“The brochure?”
“Yes.”
I clear my throat and start from the top. Detailing paintings, jewelry and vacations. A twenty-year-old diamond Cartier watch.
“Christ, they’re asking… I can’t tell you how much they’re asking for this.”
“Try me,” Anthony says.
“Eighty-five thousand dollars.”
“Is it pretty, at least?”
“Yes, it is,” I say, smoothing my finger over the picture. It’s something my aunt would wear, gifted to her by a lover from one of her travels. I’ve never met a more hopeless romantic than my aunt, but she combines it with a shrewd sense of business. I had the one, and was trying to foster the other. “But not eighty-five-thousand-dollar pretty.”
“Think about the rainforest,” he says.
“All those cute monkeys.”
“Exactly.”
“I hope I’m not expected to bid on anything? Oh, there’s a china set here that I could… no. Definitely not.”
Anthony takes a sip of brandy. Is it to hide a tug of his lips?
“Not to mention I wouldn’t dare use it if I paid this much for it,” I say. “Oh God. It has pheasants on it.”
“You’re not a fan of pheasants?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever given them much thought.”
“Tell me,” Anthony says, turning toward me, “what is your favorite fowl, Miss Davis?”
The dry humor in his tone makes me laugh. I hadn’t expected him to have so much of it. “Are you using my own tactic against me? I should add that to the list of prompts we ask potential clients.”
“It would be original.”
“It sure would,” I agree. “You told me to call you Anthony. Doesn’t that mean I’m Summer?”
He leans against the bar beside me, crossing his arms over his chest. Looking back out over the crowd. “Summer,” he agrees.
“Good.” I take another sip of my flute, only to find it near empty. I should slow down. “Are there canapés around here somewhere?”
“They should start serving them soon.”
“Good.”
His voice drops. “Oh, joy.”
I follow the turn of his head to the two approaching men. Similar in height, but one has brown hair, the other light auburn. Both in tuxes. Both coming straight here.
“Friends of yours?” I ask.