Free The Feathery by Bill Flynn Page B

hope you’ve changed your mind."

"No, I haven’t. I got a second opinion, and the golf antiques are worth much more than what you offered."

There was a ten-second pause before Carrabba responded. "Who?"

"Covington Gallery."

"That prick, Jason Gamby?"

"Right."

"I’ll beat whatever that fag’s gonna give you. I want that feathery."

"Too late, I’ve signed a contract with Covington to auction the collection."

There was some heavy breathing, and Scott heard what he guessed was a swear word in Italian. The phone connection was abruptly terminated.

Scott looked across the table at Matt and Claudio. "Mr. Carrabba was not pleased."

Matt placed his beer on the table. "If Carrabba wants the feathery so bad," he said, "he can bid on it at the auction."

"Make an honest man out of him, Matt. I’m ready to put Carrabba and the antique golf issues aside and head for Maryland tomorrow to take on the modern game.
     
    "But before then, I’ve got a date tonight in New York City with a lovely lady named Lizbeth."

"That the same brown-eyed gal with the curly black hair you met in Monterey?" Matt asked.

"You got it."
     
     
     
      S cott drove from Claudio’s apartment in Hempstead, Long Island, along route 495. He entered the city and arrived at the Covington Gallery just before five in the evening. The guard, Lem Shattuck, was at his desk in the lobby. In a hurry to meet Lizbeth, Scott gave the McNair journal to Lem to pass on to Gamby for shipment to London with the other antiques.
    Lem reached for Scott’s hand. "I’ll catch you on the tour in Florida. I just gave my notice to quit. I retire at the end of the month and I’ve made a down payment on a condo in Ft. Meyers."
     
    "Great, I’ll look forward to seeing you there, Lem."
    Scott left the Gallery on Madison Avenue and found a place to park near the theater district not too far from Sardis. He entered the restaurant and was led to a table where he waited for the arrival of Lizbeth Sweeney. She’d made the dinner reservation and had two tickets for a play. Scott was admiring the many caricature drawings of celebrities hung on the walls of Sardis when Lizbeth entered the restaurant and walked toward the table.
     
    She was wearing a gray suit and carried a matching gray leather briefcase. Her hairstyle had changed since they had first met. The full, black, naturally-curly mass was now a shorter version than he’d rubbed dry in Monterey. Scott thought the hair style change gave her a professional lawyer look.
     
    Scott stood up from the table and was deciding whether to hug her or not when Lizbeth made the decision for him. When she reached the table, her arms went around him. They stood looking at each other for a long time without speaking. The tiny freckles sprinkled beside her nose were still there and were perhaps made more vivid by some time in the sun. Her gaze continued to lock him in. He’d never seen eyes as expressive as hers, and the look in them turned to an inquisitive one when she sat down at the table.
     
    "I’ve been following your tournament results in the paper every Monday morning. Is Matt Kemp still toting your bag?" She asked.
     
    "Yeah, Matt’s still puts up with me. I’m disappointed in my play, but I think it’s going to turn around for the better soon."
    "Why?"
    "Got me a new putter."

"Really…sounds too simple."

"I know, but it seems to be working in practice. I’m going to test it this week in Maryland." Scott reached for her hand and looked deep into those incredible eyes. "How about you? How’s the law business, Lizbeth?"
     
    "Do me a favor." She smiled. "From now on call me Beth. No one could ever handle Lizbeth. They always want to turn Lizbeth into Elizabeth . Anyway, I’m out of law school…working for a firm in Manhattan and waiting to take the bar exam. I’ll specialize in international law."
     
    "Good for you, Liz."

They were laughing when the waiter came to take their order. They ordered the special Sardis