“Tell me about it.”
At least Violet had a shot with Ulrich. Carol had a feeling the English duke was just as crazy about Violet as she was about him. For Carol, it was different. Mathias might not be leaving any time soon, but having him around only made things worse. If he was gone, she could pretend that it all could have worked out. As it was, she was stuck with nothing but the unvarnished truth. Mathias didn’t want to love anyone...not even her.
*
THURSDAY MORNING CAROL walked into the gallery and came to a stop in the middle of the main room. She couldn’t believe how the space had been transformed. Every piece of the gallery’s artwork had been removed, as had most of the display cases. A bar had been set up in one corner. There were small bistro tables scattered around the edges of the room. She knew that catering staff would circulate trays of appetizers all evening.
But that was all background noise for what was front and center: Millie. Huge pictures of the leggy giraffe hung on the walls. Some were in color and others were black and white. They were all stunning and completely new to Carol. She crossed to the closest one and saw a tag on the wall offering the photograph for five thousand dollars. Maya Farlow was the photographer.
“What do you think?”
Carol turned and saw her friend Natalie walking toward her. Natalie pushed up her red glasses and grinned.
“The pictures came out nice.”
“Nice?” Carol shook her head. “No. They’re incredible. When did Maya do this? She’s supposed to be preparing for her wedding.”
“She went out a couple of mornings ago and took the pictures. Wynn blew them up and voilà. Art.” Natalie laughed. “Not to mention more money for you.” Natalie linked arms with her. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
They walked over to the two center displays.
“Ceallach’s donation arrived late last night,” Natalie said. “It’s beautiful.”
Carol stared at the six-foot-tall, abstract, angled glass. It was all sharp edges and needlelike points, each done in different shades of red, orange and yellow. Looking at it made her want to shiver. There was a coldness. No, she thought. It wasn’t cold, it was angry.
“Is it supposed to be war or something?” she asked cautiously.
“A vengeful heart.”
“That’s happy,” Carol murmured. “Nothing says let’s raise money for giraffes like a vengeful heart.”
Natalie laughed. “I know it’s a little on the dark side, but Ceallach’s emotion collection, as it’s called, is wildly popular with collectors. Atsuko is practically levitating with happiness at being able to sell one.”
“Good for her,” Carol said faintly, turning from the aggressive piece.
Several feet away was Ronan’s crane about to take flight. It was about half the size of his father’s donation, but somehow seemed to dominate the room.
“He’s amazing. So talented.”
“He’s okay,” Natalie said, her voice teasing. “He can be a little brooding, but hey, he can afford it. Now over here, we have a very special carving from Nick.”
There were actually four carvings grouped together on a table. A rush of emotion swept through Carol, making her eyes burn.
“Millie and her herd,” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful.” And just how she pictured the giraffes—as a family.
She squeezed her friend’s arm. “It’s really happening.”
“It is. Now over here, we have a charming collection of slightly impertinent giraffes.”
Carol saw nearly a dozen charming paper giraffes on floating shelves. There was a ballerina giraffe and one that was a pirate. Business executive giraffe, a giraffe on a skateboard. Each little caricature was about eight inches tall and fully dimensional.
She leaned close to take in all the wonderful details, then turned to her friend.
“How did you do this? They’re adorable and fun and I love them.”
“Thank you. It’s a combination of origami and construction and a lot of glue. I had fun. They won’t sell for a lot but I wanted to be a part of things.”
Carol hugged her. “Thank you so much. You put in way too much time.”
“It’s okay. I enjoyed myself and they’ll go into my catalog, so that’s a win for me.”
Carol knew that Natalie was trying to build the list of pieces she’d sold—her artist’s catalog.
“You’re wildly talented and one day you’re going to be discovered,” Carol told her. “Just promise you won’t forget we’re friends.”
“That will never happen, I swear.” Natalie led her to another pedestal topped with an intricately carved ebony giraffe.
“This bad boy comes all the way from England, compliments of the Duke of Somerbrooke. It’s nearly three hundred years old and unique in not only the detail but its pristine condition. Notice the wood hadn’t cracked at all and tail wisps are all intact.” She grinned. “Why yes, I do watch way too much Antiques Roadshow. I can’t help it. I’m addicted.” She spun in a circle. “And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The Millie collection.”
Carol honestly didn’t know what to say. She was overwhelmed by the beauty around her, not to mention the money that would be raised. The giraffes had been put on reserve, the transportation arranged, the permits sent for. The mayor of Fool’s Gold had given Mathias the name of someone to contact to get the last leg of the journey approved. Nearly everyone she knew and loved had participated. The evening was going to be a success.
There was only one thing missing.
She thought of the small glass giraffe Mathias had made for her. Until this second she hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping he would have made another one for the event. Perhaps it wasn’t fair of her—he was an artist and maybe he couldn’t produce on demand. Not something so incredible.
Her gaze moved to Ceallach’s abstract piece and she wondered how much its presence had changed everything. In a room filled with promise and joy, his vengeful heart was a dark shadow sucking the life out of all it touched.
*
CAROL WORRIED THAT her curling iron was lonely and bitter and determined to punish her for lack of use. Or maybe the more realistic problem was that she got it out it all of once or twice a year, so she simply forgot how to maneuver it without burning herself.
Second Chance Girl (Happily Inc. #2)
Susan Mallery's books
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