Chapter 1
Isobel Davis darted down the busy Atlanta Street and inside her favorite coffee shop. Just Peachy Coffee was a newer establishment and was a hidden gem in the downtown area. It was also the only place that gave out free newspapers during the week.
Tossing a smile at Ava behind the counter, Izzie headed across the room toward the stack of newspapers and swiped the one on top. She flicked it open, her eyes sweeping through the classifieds.
Yes! There was an estate sale that weekend. There hadn’t been one of those in a while. Maybe her mother’s jade necklace would be there. The universe had dumped so much hardship on her family, she was due for a miracle.
Izzie folded the newspaper and tucked it under her arm. She wove through the tables and chairs.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Standing frozen in place, Izzie pressed her lips into a thin line and closed her eyes. Maybe Ava was talking to someone else? She really was too much of a chatter box and Izzie had a long list of things to do before work. She tossed a glance over her shoulder to find Ava’s amused blue eyes drilling into her.
“You can’t just come in here, take a newspaper, and sneak out like a stray cat.”
Izzie giggled. “Stray cat? You know I would stay to chat if I could, but I had to take an extra shift this morning and I must visit my mom first.”
Ava flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder then leaned on the counter. Her lower lip puckered into a pout. “We haven’t had a good girl’s talk in ages. You work too hard. When are you going to realize that you should only work to live, not live to work?”
Izzie cocked her head to the side. “I think you got that wrong. Isn’t it eat to live rather than live to eat?”
Ava shrugged. “I like mine better.” She straightened with a smile. “Regardless, we should plan a girl’s night.”
“I’ll let you know when I have time,” Izzie waved at her. “Thanks for the newspaper.”
“That defeats the purpose—”
The door cut off her friend’s words and Izzie hurried down the road to her car. She had an hour and a half before she needed to be at work. That gave her just enough time to eat breakfast with her mother.
She made it to the beat-up yellow Volkswagen Bug that was parked a few yards away and yanked on the handle. The door stuck, as it usually did, forcing her to pull three more times before it released. Izzie stumbled back a step to catch her balance then jumped into her car and turned the key.
The drive out to Maple Gardens Assisted Living wasn’t bad. It was about a twenty-minute drive from Atlanta to get to the fancy retirement community, and only because it was out in the middle of nowhere. The whole place was surrounded by maple trees as far as the eye could see. Driving down the winding road toward the hub of the community always made her feel like she was entering a fairytale land.
Flecks of light burst through the leaves overhead, dancing on her windows as she passed beneath the trees on either side of her road. At the end of the road, a large brick building rose from the earth. The main structure was for the residents who needed more care than the average tenants. It was where her mother currently resided. Surrounding that building were several other smaller fourplexes.
Izzie drove past trails where elderly couples wandered with their spouses, health care workers, or their adult children. There was a degree of peace, just passing the threshold onto the property. It was the reason she’d picked this community for her mother despite the high price point, and the reason she’d added more hours to her weekly work schedule.
She pulled into the visitor’s parking lot, snatched her newspaper, jumped out of her car, and sprinted toward the main building. The automatic doors glided open, revealing the front reception desk.
Olivia’s familiar raven-haired head popped up and she smiled widely. “Izzie! Your mom’s been asking for you. We weren’t sure you were going to make it today.” She stood behind the desk and murmured something at the other receptionist before coming out and meeting Izzie. Her grey eyes dropped to the newspaper under Izzie’s arm. “Any luck today?”
Izzie’s head bobbed as she walked with her best friend down the familiar hallway toward her mother’s room. “I have a good feeling about this one, Livy. It’s a local estate sale and the notice said there was a lot of jewelry.”
Olivia’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful! Are you going to tell your mother about it?”
The happiness in Izzie’s countenance dimmed. “No. I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” They shifted to the side of the hallway, making room for a woman pushing a resident in a wheelchair. “She’s been disappointed too many times.”
Her friend nodded, lips pressed in a thin line. “That’s probably a good plan.” They stopped outside of a familiar door. The name on the small plaque on the wall read Davis.
Izzie gestured toward the room. “How’s she doing this morning?”
Olivia’s eyes darted to the door then back to Izzie’s face. She tilted her head slightly and offered a soft smile. “Okay, I think. She kept asking about you. But she was in good spirits.”
“Have you heard if she’s making any more progress?”
This time Olivia’s features faltered. She reached out and touched Izzie’s upper arm. “I think she’s made as much progress as they expected. More, even. At this point we just have to be happy with how far she’s come.”
Izzie swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just wish…” She glanced at the closed door.”
“I know, sweetie.” Olivia wrapped her arms around Izzie then pulled back and grinned. “Let me know how that estate sale goes.”
Izzie nodded again and headed into her mother’s room.
Margaret was already seated in her wheelchair staring out the window at the gardens within her view. She twisted, glancing over her shoulder and a wide smile stretched from ear to ear. “Izzie! You’re here.”
Warmth spread through Izzie’s body as she wandered across the room. “Of course I’m here. I told you I’d eat breakfast with you every morning.” Her hands settled on the wheelchair. “Not to mention, we have to finish that chapter in Pride and Prejudice.”
If it was possible, her mother’s features brightened further. “Ooh, I love that one.”
She placed the book in her mother’s lap. “I know, mom.” Izzie grinned as she turned her mother’s chair around and rolled her out the door. “Do you remember where we are in the story?”
Her mother grew still except for her fingers which fidgeted with the book in her lap. She murmured something Izzie couldn’t understand.
“It’s okay, mom. I’ll help you remember.” They headed down the hall toward the cafeteria. Some of the workers wearing scrubs waved animatedly at Margaret, wishing her a good morning. But most of the residents they passed weren’t completely lucid, so when her mother waved at them, they didn’t respond.
Izzie frowned. Her mother’s memory was the only reason she hadn’t been moved into one of the other buildings. There were other tenants who had mobility issues and they weren’t required to have such strict supervision. If only she could get her mother to crest that threshold.
They arrived in the cafeteria and Izzie paused. “Where do you want to sit this morning?”
Her mother surveyed the room, from one side to the other. “I don’t see Lawrence.”
“Lawrence?” Izzie stared down at the top of her mother’s head. Last time they’d shared a meal, Margaret couldn’t remember Lawrence. The two had met one another two weeks ago and the nurses kept putting them together—something to do with how bright and happy her mother was. She seemed to share some of her light with the other resident. “You remember Lawrence?”
Margaret glanced up at her, a grin on her face. “Of course I remember Lawrence, dear. He’s my dear friend.”
Izzie couldn’t dare hope that this was the turning point she’d been praying for. Her mother hadn’t been able to make new memories very well. Even some of the older ones were hard to dig up. Heart beating a little faster, Izzie spun her mother around. “Well, I guess we should go find your friend, then, shouldn’t we?”
They headed for the reception desk, but Olivia wasn’t there. The other woman offered them a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“My mom wants to eat breakfast with one of the other residents. Do you think you could find him?” This could very well be against the rules.
“Of course. Anything for Margaret.” The woman winked at Izzie’s mother.
Izzie blinked. “Oh. Great.”
“Who are we looking for?”
“Lawrence.” Her mother offered.
The receptionist turned to her computer and clicked a few times. “It looks like his nephew checked him out this morning but he said they’d be staying on the grounds. You might be able to find them out in the commons.”
“Hear that, Mom? Lawrence might be in the commons. What do you say about breakfast outside?”
“That sounds lovely, dear.”
Izzie thanked the receptionist and then they turned and headed out the door into the warm morning sunlight. They took a left and made their way toward the large open area surrounded by shrubs and greenery. A few wrought iron tables were situated in the center near a bubbling fountain and several benches lined the perimeter.
Her mother sat straighter in her chair and pointed. “There he is. There’s Lawrence.”
Izzie’s eyes followed her mother’s gesture and she peered across the way. Then her blood ran cold. “Oh, Mom. I don’t think today is a good day. He looks busy, visiting with someone.” She made to turn the wheelchair around but her mother threw her hands onto the brakes, making it harder to go anywhere. “Mom. We can visit with him another—”
“No. I want to eat breakfast with Lawrence.” Her mother set a pair of earnest eyes on Izzie. “He’s my friend, Izzie. Please.”
Izzie’s shoulders slumped as she stared at her mother then over to where Lawrence sat on a bench beside someone she would have recognized anywhere. Lawrence’s nephew was none other than Bartholomew Brown—heir apparent to the fortune of his uncle. Playboy. Adventurer. And drop dead gorgeous.
One more attempt at turning around got her nowhere. Her mother wasn’t going to budge. Izzie expelled a sigh from her lips. “Fine. Let’s go say hi to Lawrence.” They bumped along the cobblestone path toward the elderly man. Izzie kept her gaze averted, not prepared to meet the eyes that had stared at her from magazines at the convenience store where she worked.
They arrived far too soon. Margaret beamed at Lawrence and his nephew. Lawrence didn’t acknowledge their presence while his nephew gazed at them with curiosity.
Izzie leaned over and murmured, “Let’s come back another time.”
“No, Izzie. Lawrence, you don’t mind us sitting with you, do you?” Margaret beamed at Lawrence and waved at his visitor, her paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice flying out of her hands.
Bartholomew Brown got to it just before Isobel, scooping it off the grass in one fluid motion and holding it out with a smile. He was taller than she expected. And it was obvious he spent time at the gym, those broad muscular shoulders easily visible beneath his fitted t-shirt.
Stop it!
Isobel dragged her eyes to his face.
That was a very bad idea. Warm brown eyes regarded her with amusement.
She cleared her throat. “Um, thanks.”
“Shall I return it to your mother?”
“It’s Margaret.” Her mother chimed in. “Izzie, get the book, dear.”
Right, he was still holding it out to her. She curled her fingers around the edge farthest from his fingers. “I’ll take it.”
“I’m Bart.”
“I know.”
“The normal response is, ‘And I’m Izzie’.”
She froze. “How do you know my name?”
Chapter 2
Bart bit back a chuckle that wanted to fly from his mouth. He arched a brow. “Your mother just said it.”
A blush filled her cheeks. “It’s Isobel, actually.” She tugged on the book he still held. “May I have this please?”
He released the book and nodded toward Margaret, who’d maneuvered her wheelchair beside the bench. She was deeply invested in a one-sided conversation. “She cheers him up.”
Izzie’s eyes darted toward her mother. “She loves talking to him, even if he can’t answer. But I think he does, in his own way.”
Lawrence blinked faster as Margaret laughed at her own joke. Bart’s smile widened. “I think you’re right.” He folded his strong arms across his chest and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowered to a murmur. “The stroke left him a shell of his former self. You read to him, don’t you?”
Izzie glanced at him and tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Mom forgets a lot since her accident, so I read her some of the books she used to love reading.” Her smile was soft and warm, drawing his attention as she continued. “I think he likes them, too.”
Bart leaned a little closer toward her, causing her to stumble back a step. His smile remained as he murmured. “Thank you.”
“For—for reading to them? It’s a little thing.” She touched her hair again, her eyes darting away. She was nervous around him, and he couldn’t deny that it gave him a small sense of satisfaction.
Her eyes bounced to meet his then away before Izzie hurried to Margaret. She dropped onto the bench between her mother’s wheelchair and Lawrence. “Alright. I only have thirty minutes. Let’s see if Darcy finally admits he’s in love with Elizabeth.”
Bart watched with rapt curiosity as the beautiful red-head dove into the story she held at her lap. The nurse had mentioned Lawrence had a new friend. He hadn’t expected to come across her so soon, nor that she’d have a beautiful daughter.
He rubbed his jaw then turned around in search of a chair. There was a vacant one that sat beside a table not too far from where his uncle seemed to have perked up. It was amazing, the effect she had on him. Bart settled into the chair and leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands dangled over the edge of his legs as he listened to her voice.
She had a natural kind of prettiness about her that he didn’t see all that often over at the casino. Her auburn hair glinted in the sunlight and her eyes seemed to flash with a shrewd sense of intelligence. Most of the women who ended up coming through the doors to his world seemed to wear too much makeup and wear clothes that revealed a little too much. Granted, a good majority of those he spent time with were performers in the theater his uncle had put in shortly before his stroke.
Izzie wasn’t like them at all. If he had to compare her mannerisms to someone, the closest person he could come up with would be that princess who got locked away with that beast.
And just like that, the thirty minutes were up. Izzie hopped up from her place on the bench, grabbed her mother’s wheelchair, and reminded her to say her goodbyes.
Bart got to his feet, stepping into her path. She stopped abruptly, causing her mother to lurch slightly. Margaret twisted in her seat and gave her daughter a look. “Careful, Izzie. You nearly ran over this nice young man.” She turned around and looked up at him. “She can be in such a hurry sometimes.”
Why did he just block her? What was he going to say? Don’t go? That would have sounded weird. He offered Margaret a smile and stepped out of the way. “It was completely my fault. Sorry.” He met Izzie’s guarded expression. “I’ll see you around sometime, Izzie.”
“It’s Isobel,” Izzie murmured as she walked past.
He turned, watching her walk away. Did he do something wrong? Usually, the women he interacted with were more… more what exactly? Flirty? Warm? But not Izzie. She was more consumed with something else. Maybe it had something to do with her mother. Serious. That’s what it was. Someone as young as she appeared to be didn’t need to be so serious. It made him want to know exactly what was going on in her life to make her so somber.
His brows furrowed as he turned toward his uncle. Lawrence had that blank stare on his face again. The little bit of coherency he’d shown when he was with Margaret was now gone. There was something about the Davis women that had woken him up to a small degree—one more reason he wanted to get to know them more.
Bart wandered over to his uncle and groaned as he settled onto the bench beside him. “How are you feeling today, Uncle Lawrence?”
Of course he wouldn’t answer. He hadn’t spoken a word since he’d had his stroke. The most they ever got was facial expressions. Bart leaned back and draped his arm on the bench behind his uncle. “I have a buyer for all but one of your casinos. Everything should close by the end of next month if it goes according to plan. I’m keeping your first one, though. And all profits will go to the charities you supported.”
He glanced at his uncle out of the corner of his eye. Nothing. No acknowledgement of their conversation. Bart sighed. He didn’t even know why he talked. It seemed strange. Uncle Lawrence hadn’t even really spent much time with him when he was younger. Being given all of his uncle’s holdings had been a shock not only to his mother but to the rest of the family.
“So, what do you think of those Davis women?”
His uncle didn’t react.
“Margaret seems nice. She talks a lot though.”
Bart could have sworn his uncle’s mouth twitched. But he must have been mistaken. Lawrence didn’t move. Just like always. “I bet you like listening to Izzie as much as I did. I hope she comes back and reads to you often. That was really nice of her.”
His gaze swept through the property, bouncing from resident to resident before he shifted his focus once again to his uncle. “I have a meeting with Isaac later today. I think he wants me to remain on the board for this place.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I don’t know if I want any of this.” Bart heaved a sigh and shifted, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees. “This isn’t the life I had expected to lead. But I feel like if I don’t stick around, your legacy will be lost.”
Bart glanced at his uncle out of the corner of his eye once more. What was he thinking? This conversation wasn’t going to do a lick of good. He could be reading to his uncle from the stocks in the newspaper and he’d get the same effect.
No one else in his family bothered to visit Lawrence. It was like they’d all washed their hands of the man when they found out he hadn’t given any of his wealth to them.
He stared at his uncle. “Why?”
Lawrence blinked.
“Why did you pick me? I don’t get it. I have no idea what I’m doing. You should have asked someone else. Anyone else. Heck, Isaac would have been better at handling all of this.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I just wish I knew.”
Bart got to his feet and brushed off his suit pants. “I’ll see you again later this week, Uncle Lawrence. Have a good day.”
***
Bart sat in the familiar conference room where he’d spent a lot of his time over the last several months. No one had come in to speak with him and he’d been there for at least twenty minutes. Granted, this wasn’t a big board meeting. It was just supposed to be a meeting between Isaac and himself, but for what, he didn’t know.
He pushed out his chair and walked over to the window. He wasn’t equipped to be the CEO of his uncle’s estate, so he’d kept Isaac on. Hopefully this didn’t have something to do with stepping down. Bart didn’t know if he could manage any of this without Isaac.
Placing both hands behind his back, he stared down at the street below him. People hurried from place to place, unaware that they were probably constantly being watched. They looked like a bunch of little worker ants, going about their days. A sign outside of a convenience store below boasted the best soft serve frozen yogurt in town. Maybe he’d get some before heading to the casino.
That used to be him. He’d been a substitute teacher for a local alternative high school before his uncle had ripped him from that world and placed him here. Things had changed so much over the last six months and as much as he wished he could go back, he knew he was in the right place.
The door to the conference room opened and he turned to find Isaac entering, a stack of folders in his arm. He flashed Bart a smile and gestured toward the conference table. “Take a seat.” Isaac was the epitome of a slick CEO. His black hair was perfectly cut and styled without a single hair out of place. His strong jaw didn’t need any facial hair to make him look intimidating. And his steel blue eyes could hold any opponent in their place. It wasn’t any wonder his uncle had hired him.
Bart strode toward the table and returned to his chair. Isaac sat in his usual place at the head. He pushed the folders across the table. “I just got these on my desk yesterday. Care to explain?” His gaze was steady, unnerving even, but not unhappy.
Leaning forward, Bart grabbed the folders and flipped the top one open. A quick cursory glance gave him all the information he needed. “Those are the contracts for the sale of the casinos. We discussed that they were to be sold months ago. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”
Isaac shook his head. “The sale, no. But the proceeds of the sale, yes. You failed to mention that the proceeds were in part going to Maple Gardens Assisted Living.”
Bart stilled. Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think charitable donations had to be approved. “Is that unacceptable?”
Isaac steepled his fingers in front of him and brought them to his chin. “No. On the contrary, it was very generous of you to think of them—us. When your uncle gifted me that facility, I was as surprised as any. But I assumed it was because he had a special place in his heart for me—and my mother.”
“How is Millie doing?”
A slow smile tugged at his lips. “You’re getting off subject. The reason I wanted to call you in here was to give you my thanks for your generosity. The amount of money you’re giving Maple Gardens would pay for your uncle’s treatment ten times over.”
“Well, you’re welcome. I know you’ll do better things with it.”
“I want you to know that we will not be charging you or your uncle for his care from this point forward.”
Bart straightened in his seat. “That’s not necessary. He has more than enough income to—”
Isaac held up his hand. “It’s done.”
Folding his arms tight against his chest, Bart huffed. “Well, if this is how you’re going to react to that donation, you might not be thrilled with what I have planned next.”
Isaac arched a brow but didn’t say a word.
“My uncle has more money and income than anyone in their right mind knows what to do with. There is no way I’d be able to spend a tenth of it even if I lived for twenty lifetimes. As discussed, I’m keeping the first casino he bought. But I will be giving all profits from that place to charity as well. Don’t be surprised if a portion of that money finds its way to Maple Grove. Those residents need it more.”
Isaac chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I think? I think your uncle knew what he was doing when he left all of this to you,” he gestured around them. “You’re a good man, Bart, and I look forward to working with you.” Isaac stood and held out his hand, offering it to Bart.
Bart stared at it for a moment before he accepted it. “Thanks Isaac. I look forward to working with you, too.”
Chapter 3
Izzie ducked into Perry’s Place convenience store and hurried around the cashier’s counter. She glanced at the clock, her face red as her supervisor appeared from the back office. Dang it.
Mr. Perry folded his arms, shaking his head. “You can’t keep being late, Isobel. I have a business to run.”
Her eyes darted away as she placed her magazine on the counter, grabbed her apron and put it over her head. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Perry. I had to visit with my mother this morning then I got stopped by a train. And—” She shook her head. Excuses had never gotten her sympathy before. “It won’t happen again.”
The look on his face seemed to say he didn’t have much faith in that promise. He shook his head and returned to the back office. Luckily there wasn’t anyone in the store. On days when she was late and there was a line, he really got upset. Luckily, he hadn’t fired her yet.
Izzie leaned against the back counter and placed her hands in her apron pockets. She really should start looking for another job. This place barely helped her pay her rent. And now with the bills for her mother’s care piling up, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She’d already sold too many of her belongings.
Her chest tightened. The most recent one sliced through her the sharpest. The guitar her grandmother had given her had been the one thing that had kept her sane. But sacrifices had to be made. She was an only child, and no one was around to help out.
She looked up at the ceiling, fighting the emotion that always burned behind her eyes when she started getting down on herself. She’d make it out alright. She always did. Izzie glanced back to where Mr. Perry was probably hard at work balancing the till. Her gaze slipped over to the newspaper, and she picked it up. There was another estate sale this upcoming weekend. How had she missed it?
Izzie pulled out a pen and circled the classified listing a few times. The bell above the glass door jingled. Without looking up, she murmured. “Welcome to Perry’s Place. Let me know if I can get you anything.” The guest shuffled through the store, not speaking. Typical.
She chewed on the back of her pen and skimmed the classifieds once more. If she’d missed one, she might have missed another.
A cup of frozen soft serve slid on the counter toward her.
Izzie lifted her gaze and froze, coming face to face with him.
He wore the most infuriatingly confident smile on his face. “Hello again.”
She straightened, placing both hands on her hips. “Are you following me?”
His brows lifted and he chuckled. “I had business across the street. I saw the sign. Am I not permitted to enjoy the best soft-serve frozen yogurt in Atlanta?” He nudged the cup filled with white ice cream toward her again.
Her focus shifted to the cup, and she scoffed. “You picked vanilla? You realize we have like six flavors, right? You didn’t even get any toppings.”
Bart shrugged. “Maybe I appreciate plain.”
Her brows creased. Something about his statement rubbed her the wrong way but she didn’t have the ability to dissect the reasons at the moment. She shook her head and placed the ice cream on the small scale beside the cash register. “It will be six-eighty-three.”
He handed her a ten from his wallet. “Keep the change.”
Izzie shook her head. “I can’t. It will ruin the balance in the till.”
Bart’s smile lifted at one side. “You’re not allowed to pocket the change?”
Her face burned red and she shoved the change across the counter. “No. I’m not a waitress. I’m a cashier.”
His eyes didn’t leave her face, making her whole body tense up. The blood coursing through her veins hummed with a strange kind of energy.
She shifted and gestured toward his ice cream. “Enjoy, come again.”
“Oh, I will.” He grabbed the cup and saluted her with his spoon.
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t want him to come again. She didn’t want him to come back ever. Her teeth clenched, fighting the urge to call out to him and inform him of that fact. He wasn’t a good guy, as much as he probably thought he was. She knew better. She’d seen evidence with her own eyes.
Her gaze followed him as he headed out the door without looking back at her. Great. Now he knew where she worked. He also knew where her mother stayed. Something inside her said this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be seeing him and that notion infuriated her.
***
“Wait. Hold up. He showed up at your work?” Olivia yanked Izzie to a stop causing a sharp pain to shoot through her arm.
Izzie yelped, rubbing where her arm felt like it had nearly been pulled from its socket. She shot Olivia a disgruntled look.
“Sorry,” her friend murmured, chagrined. “But seriously. You can’t leave it at that. Bartholomew, billionaire, just showed up at your work? Was he stalking you or something? I mean he’s still fairly new so I haven’t gotten to know him very well over at Maple Gardens. But he’s super hot and—”
“Olivia,” Izzie laughed. “You’re not even letting me get a word in edgewise.” They wandered through the living room of the first house on her list, looking through jewelry boxes and old trinkets. “First of all, I have no idea if he was stalking me. He said he was just in the area.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “But more importantly, it doesn’t matter that he’s hot. I’d be very happy if I never saw him again.”
“That’s too bad.”
Her eyes shot open, and she jumped. Both she and Olivia spun around to look up into a pair of brown eyes. Why oh why did this keep happening to her? She clapped her hand over her mouth, praying her face wasn’t as red as it felt. How much had he heard?
That was a stupid question. He’d probably heard the worst of it. Based on the smirk he was sporting, he was thrilled he had.
Izzie turned around and nudged Olivia’s shoulder with her own. “You have to get me out of here,” she muttered.
Her friend snorted. “Are you kidding? This is the most exciting thing that has happened to me since I can’t remember when.”
“Olivia!” she hissed.
Her friend spun around and faced Bart, holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Olivia. Izzie’s friend.”
Izzie refused to turn around. This was embarrassing. More than that, it was mortifying. She dug through a pile of heirlooms on the table in front of her, if only to keep her hands busy. Clearly pretending to be engaged in something other than Bart did nothing to dissuade him from sticking around.
His warm as honey voice floated around her, giving her goosebumps. “Hello, Olivia. You work at Maple Gardens? Perhaps you can explain to me why my presence irks your friend so much.”
Olivia laughed obnoxiously loud. “It might have something to do with the fact that you own the—”
Izzie elbowed Olivia with her elbow, receiving a sharp look and a grunt from her friend. Bart raised a brow, his gaze dipping to where Olivia rubbed her side. She smiled but it resembled a painful grimace more than anything else. “Actually, I haven’t a clue. Sometimes she’s just mean.” Olivia gave Izzie a pointed look.
Izzie’s blush deepened despite her best efforts to look more nonchalant about this whole weird situation she found herself in. She folded her arms and met Bart’s gaze. “I don’t think you can talk yourself out of this one. I don’t know how you did it, but I know you followed me here. Are you spying on me?”
How was he so at ease? He exuded confidence despite being caught following her around town. There had to be something wrong with him.
Bart leaned toward her and she sucked in a breath as he reached for a vase that was on the table beside her. His arm brushed against hers, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps rising along her skin. She rubbed at them vigorously, her features darkening.
He turned the vase over in both his hands and flashed her a smile fit for the cover of GQ magazine. “Maybe I like collecting old things, too.”
Izzie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you actually expect me to believe that?”
Olivia jumped in before he could comment. “I believe you.”
Bart smiled at her friend this time and Izzie’s stomach tightened.
Olivia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and seemed to lean closer to Bart. “It’s so sweet of you to come visit your uncle so much. Have the two of you always been close?”
Leave it to Olivia to flirt up a storm with the devil incarnate. Izzie edged away from them as Bart launched into a conversation with her best friend. If Olivia wanted to flirt with a guy who didn’t have any morals, that was her decision. Izzie wouldn’t step in her way.
But as she put more distance between herself and the two budding love birds, she couldn’t rid herself of that strange sick feeling in her stomach. The way they were talking, the way Olivia brushed her hand up and down his upper arm was making her feel almost sick to her stomach.
It was probably something she’d eaten earlier in the day. She needed to get Bart out of her head. She was here for one thing and one thing only—to see if the deceased was in possession of her mother’s jade necklace.
There had to be more jewelry around here somewhere. This estate had boasted several pieces of fine jewelry on the listing. But all she was seeing were cheap baubles. There were brooches and gawdy earrings, too but no necklace pieces.
Just another let down.
Izzie didn’t even know if she wanted to bother going to the other estate sale she’d circled in the paper. And based on the way Olivia had abandoned her to chat with Bart, it looked like Izzie would be flying solo at this point.
She shot a look over where she’d left Olivia, finding them gone. Izzie stiffened and scanned the room. Where had they gone? This wasn’t like Olivia. Sure, she’d flirt like no one’s business. But she wouldn’t just abandon her friend.
Izzie wandered through the room toward the kitchen where there was more set up. Neither of the people she was looking for were there. Izzie’s brows furrowed until she saw the two of them chatting on the back porch.
This visit had been a bust. But Olivia had driven them, and if she wanted to leave, she’d have to go interrupt the conversation they were having.
Izzie took a deep breath, steeling herself for the very likely possibility that Bart would pull her into another humiliating conversation. It was fine. She’d drag Olivia out to the car, they’d make one quick stop at the next place and then Olivia could text Bart and the two of them would inevitably go on a date. That was just the way things would work out.
So why was there still this strange nausea rolling through her stomach? She didn’t even like Bart. Maybe it was simply the fact that she knew and loved Olivia. She couldn’t let her friend be dragged down by the likes of Bartholomew Brown.
Izzie stepped out onto the back porch just as Olivia got a phone call. Bart glanced at Izzie, smiling again. Ergh, that infuriating smile that could make anyone’s knees go weak. It was a weapon and it should be illegal for him to use it.
Olivia hung up her phone, her eyes darting to Izzie. The look on her face said it all.
Uh oh.