Free The Jewel of His Collection by Fae Mallory

there?” The museum’s bell chimed as a young couple entered the lobby and Violet could feel herself blushing even as she put on her most professional smile.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Fabre. Mr. Carlisle is in New York on business. Can I relay a message for you?” It was all she could do not to let her composure slip in front of her customers as Violet’s stomach dropped.
    “Yes. Would you please tell him that the museum received his delivery and thanks him?” Her voice sounded brittle to her own ears as she recited her businesslike message. If Xavier didn’t know about the flowers, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
    Who was she kidding? Xavier was probably the one who’d sent the flowers in the first place. He probably sent flowers to every woman Ian interacted with as part of his standard duties. Violet wasn’t special, and the sooner she got that through her thick skull, the happier she’d be. What had she expected—Ian to wait by the phone with bated breath in hopes that she’d call? He was a busy man with responsibilities all over the country. A small-town museum’s overweight curator was hardly going to pique his interest. He’d already been more generous with his time than she had any right to expect.
    Violet waved the young couple into the exhibit and devoured the rest of her scone, keeping her back deliberately angled toward the irises. They were just flowers, an acknowledgement of successful business arrangement. They didn’t mean anything.
    “Is this where the Madden exhibit is?” The bell chimed to admit a balding man with thick glasses accompanied by a young woman with purple hair.
    “It’s the museum, Gramps,” the girl informed him, giving Violet an apologetic smile.
    He sniffed. “That wasn’t my question.”
    “Yes, sir, the museum is hosting an exhibit of Hunter Madden’s paintings,” Violet spoke up.
    “The paper said it was worth seeing, so I want to see it,” he informed her, bristling as though he expected her to challenge his right to view the paintings.
    “Of course, sir.” Violet agreed, ringing up another sale for the man and his granddaughter and waving them into the exhibit.
    Less than five minutes later, they reappeared, the man shaking his head. “Appalling. That’s not a proper exhibit. It’s a rave.” He waved his finger reprovingly in Violet’s face. “I will be contacting the Gazette about this!”
    His purple-haired companion rolled her eyes as he stormed outside. “Ignore him. If it’s not a picture of a basket of fruit, he thinks it’s trash. I thought it was cool.”
    Acting on impulse, Violet reached down to grab an additional ticket and handed it to the girl. “Here. You’re welcome to come back later for another look.”
    “Thanks.” The girl grinned at her. “I’ll leave Gramps at home next time. I told him he wouldn’t like it, but if he sees it in the Gazette , he has to see it for himself.”
    Her words reminded Violet that she’d been so distracted by reading the art world’s reaction to the premiere, she’d never gotten around to reading Paul’s article about the preview. That was deeply unfair, especially since a glance at her phone told her that he’d texted back to accept her suggestion of a Sunday morning coffee date. “Leroy, are you busy?”
    He was, but giving him ten dollars to go buy the paper and telling him to keep the change sweetened his temper enough to convince him to hand the Gazette over with only a perfunctory grumble. The premiere hadn’t made the front page—that honor was reserved for important town events like a fender bender in front of the bank and the local high school football team’s progress on their quest for the regional championship, but there was a sizable write-up on page two.
    Violet smiled at seeing her words in print, Paul quoting large chunks of her informal lesson on Hunter Madden’s significance to the world of art. For someone with no background in art himself, he did a fine job