The Jewel of His Collection by Fae Mallory Read Free Book Online Page B

exhibit space at any given moment with more people waiting outside as Leroy attempted to enforce order and keep them within fire code.
    It looked like Violet had a success on her hands.
    Waiters circulated through the museum’s lobby, passing around champagne and hors d’oeuvres provided by the catering business that Martha Elliot ran out of the town’s only bed-and-breakfast. Thanks to the exhibit, she was booked solid for the next twelve weeks, and while she’d offered to donate the food, she rescinded her offer when she learned Ian Carlisle was picking up the tab.
    “He’s got the money to burn,” she said practically when Violet voiced quiet disapproval at the thought of asking him to pay for something Martha wouldn’t have otherwise charged for.
    “That doesn’t mean we should take advantage of him,” Violet protested, feeling oddly protective. In the six weeks since he’d given her final approval of the exhibit, she’d barely seen him, but the checks had arrived promptly and with no argument. Ian was a man of his word, and it was wrong to exploit his generosity.
    The older woman gave her a sharp look. “Honey, you’re not getting ideas about Carlisle, are you?”
    Violet bit her lip, wondering what Martha would say if she knew she’d already taken her clothes off for him. “Of course not.”
    Martha patted her shoulder. “That’s good. You’re a sweet girl, Violet, but you have to be realistic.”
    In the end, Martha allowed herself to be persuaded to give Ian a ten percent discount on her usual prices, and Violet decided to count it as a victory. The older woman was currently sequestered in the museum’s kitchen, an outdated space in the basement. An upgrade was on Violet’s wish list, and if tonight was any indication, she’d soon be able to afford to spruce up the entire museum.
    Surrounded by men and women wearing clothes that undoubtedly cost more than her car, Violet felt very much like a country cousin in her high-necked gray swing dress. Although she’d dressed it up with a chunky beaded necklace, no one would ever mistake her for a member of the art world’s elite, their glamorous wardrobes dazzling her eyes.
    “I think I should have dressed up more,” an aggravated voice said in her ear.
    Distracted from her head count, Violet turned to see a sandy-haired man dressed in crisp khaki slacks, a plain white shirt, and a solid green tie standing at her elbow.
    His rounded face cracked in a winning smile as he held up a press pass. “Paul Hallar, Owensport Gazette . You’re Violet Fabre, right?”
    “That’s me,” she agreed, giving him an apologetic look as she turned away to check another pair of tickets. Although the Gazette ’s scope was limited, Violet had considered it impolitic not to at least invite them to send a reporter to the preview night since she’d invited half a dozen metropolitan newspapers to cover the event.
    Paul whistled. “Quite the crowd. I don’t think I’ve been in here since my high school field trip.”
    “Owensport High? What year did you graduate?” she asked. Although Paul didn’t look familiar to her, it was possible they’d gone to school together.
    The year he named put him three years ahead of her own graduating class. Telling him as much, Violet added, “We probably passed each other in the hall every day.”
    “I apologize if I ever tripped over you. I was a klutz back then.” His rueful smile made her chuckle. In this crowd of wealth and privilege, it was nice to meet someone ordinary like her.
    Pulling a notebook from his pocket, he asked, “So, can you tell me why Hunter Madden is such a big deal?”
    Even though she’d memorized her talking points in advance, it was still hard to balance her responsibilities to her guests with providing Paul with the information he needed for his article. More than once, she realized that she’d forgotten her clicker, and only sticking her head into the exhibit space for a quick head count assured