I smile, but he’s wrong. Well, for some of us it will be. For two of us in particular, everything we say and do will be under a microscope so Harrison can decide which one of us is worthy enough to sell his art.
“Auctioneers, this is my wife, Pari, and our daughter, Naomi.” He points to an older Indian woman and a younger woman who looks a little like them both. “This is my VP, Nate.” He indicates a white man who raises his glass at us in greeting. “And these are family friends, Jack and Cindy Chen.” An older East Asian man and the white woman next to him nod at us from their couch. “Everyone, this is Priya and Gavin. By the end of this trip, one of them will be selling my art.”
“You have a beautiful home here,” Gavin says. “It’d be a great spot for a house sale.”
Hey! I was thinking of that first, way back at my original lunch with Harrison. “I agree. As I mentioned at our first meeting, this would be the best way to showcase your collection, letting buyers see the enviable lifestyle they’re getting if they buy from us.” Ha! Take that.
The easy camaraderie Gavin and I had developed in the car is staying in that car, which is currently driving back to the city.
“I’ll give you some time to settle into your rooms, and then I have a light lunch and some activities planned for all of us.” Harrison doesn’t engage in our vying for his attention.
I take a quick look at the people around me to see what the dress code is, a lot of business casual and rich people lounging wear, which is much more expensive than normal people lounging wear and not as comfortable.
I’m glad I brought lots of dresses. They’re so versatile, making it look like I put in more effort even though they’re only one piece of clothing, so they’re half the work.
A smartly dressed man appears out of nowhere to take us up to our rooms.
“Hi,” I say as we go up the grand staircase to the second floor. “I’m Priya. Thank you for taking our bags up.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Jeeves.”
“Is it really? Like Jeeves and Wooster?” I love those books and the show. But what are the chances?
Jeeves sighs. “No. My name’s Ryan. But Harrison thought Jeeves sounded cooler, probably because of the character, so he started calling me that.”
“That’s not right,” Gavin says.
“Jeeves” keeps a straight face. He’s very good at his job. “He pays me extra.”
He probably meant that as a defense of his employer, but it just makes it worse.
Jeeves-Ryan probably feels more comfortable with us because we occupy a weird space between the rich clients and people who work for rich clients. We get invited to their house parties and socialize with them at their charity banquets, but at the end of the day, it’s a business transaction where we sell their stuff. And to muddy the waters even more, Gavin and I aren’t just auctioneers; we’re both related to the owners of our respective auction houses.
Jeeves-Ryan, as I will now forever think of him, drops Gavin off first, and then drops me off at the room right next to Gavin’s. That’s far too close for comfort. And the nefarious wink Gavin throws over his shoulder as he enters his room doesn’t make me feel any better about it.
“If you get lost on the way down, just yell and someone will be around to guide you.” Jeeves-Ryan gives me a companionable smile as he leaves me to the room.
My guest room is dominated by a majestic curtained four-poster bed with an elaborate headboard. The carved motif on it shows people on a railroad, a shout-out to the source of the Richmonds’ vast wealth. The walls are plastered with a blue floral wallpaper, which matches the lush blue sheets on the bed.
I wonder if I can get away with a quick nap because that bed looks enticing, with the duvet looking especially soft. But I work through it because I can’t let Carlyle’s win.
I start unpacking my stuff so I can see all my armor options for the upcoming battle. Once everything is out, I choose a sundress and quickly change into it. As I’m finishing up, a knock comes from the door.
“Come in,” I call out.
“Hi, ma’am. I wanted to see if you need anything washed, pressed or unpacked for you? Or if there is anything else you need for your stay?”
“I’m almost done but thank you. I’m Priya.” I extend my hand.
“I’m Sarah.” She shakes my hand.
An idea forms. “Did you offer the same thing to the man next door?”
“Yes. To all our guests. And he requested that we press and hang his clothes.”
