Time seerns to fly when buried in Cordelia had breezed her dayâs lessons and even managed to wrap up her homework during study hall. As the school day drew to a close, she shoved a book into her backpack to entertain her on the way to the auction she was attending later.
The charity gala was being held at the prestigious Greenmeadow Grand Hotel, a sixâstar beacon of luxury.
the time they arrived, the place was already teeming with guests.
Cordelia, trailing behind Lorna, had barely stepped out of the car when she heard familiar voice call out. âLornal
There was Rachel, striding over in all her glittering finery, looking every inch the wealthy socialite. With Laurinda on her arm, she approached with a complaint ready on her lips. âLorna, I know weâve gone separate ways, but weâre still family. I tried visiting your neighborhood, but they wouldnât even let me in. I had no choice but to wait for you here.â
Lorna, ever the embodiment of understatement, was not a fan of Rachelâs flashy style. She spoke with detached tone, âWhat do you want?â
Rachelâs smile didnât waver as she said, âI heard you were attending this gala and I was worried you might not have anything suitable to contribute. So, I brought something for you.â
She produced a box from her purse and handed it over. âInside is a diamond brooch, worth a cool twenty grand. Why donât you auction this off?â
Laurinda scoffed, âLorna, you should learn from Rachel. Think of the picture. Isnât she magnanimous?â
Magnanimous? This was clearly a ploy to put Lorna in their debt, something to hold over her head later, most. likely an attempt to curry favor with Calvert.
Lorna saw through their game immediately. Theyâd grown a bit smarter, offering a favor first before expecting returns, never missing a chance to get what they wanted.
âI donât need it,â Lorna said, pushing the brooch back. âIâve already prepared something for tonightâs auction.â
Rachel was taken aback, âYouâve prepared something?â
Her gaze swept over them, finally resting on the long box Lorna held. âWhatâs that?â
Before Lorna could answer, Rachel guessed aloud, âA painting? Yours?â
Seeing no denial from Lorna, Rachel burst into laughter. âLorna, youâre auctioning off your own painting? Are you joking? Donât you know your pieces barely fetch fifty bucks? Is that your grand donation?â
Lorna brushed past her. âWeâve already parted ways. What I donate is none of your concern.â
Laurinda was indignant. âParted ways? Do you think that changes your last name? Do you think that changes. that Sanderson is my son, and Iâm his mother? Blood ties canât be cut!â
Rachel chimed in, her voice with urgency, âLorna, if you donât listen to me and it doesnât sell, itâs our familyâs reputation on the line.â
Cordella, who had been silent till now, spoke up nonchalantly, âWho says it wonât sell?â
Rachel scoffed, âAt an auction where starting bids begin at fifty thousand, who do you think will buy her painting?â
Cordelia didnât respond, simply guiding Lorna past the two women and into the venue.
Rachel wanted to follow, but with so many eyes upon her, she hesitated, not wanting to cause a scene. After a momentâs thought, she blurted out, âDid Sanderson arrange for someone to bid high? Is this some kind of stunt?â
Laurinda, not quite grasping Rachelâs insinuation, asked, âWhat do you mean?â
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Rachel explained with a hint of disdain, âItâs hype. The only way for Lornaâs painting to gain any attention now is if itâs artificially inflated at auction.â
Laurinda, ever blunt, put it plainly. âYou mean going to throw mone good name?â
Rachel nodded in confirmation.
at the auction just to give Lorna a
Inside, the Harmony Haven Foundation was in full swing, with its president, Mrs. Collins, playing the gracious host. Upon spotting Lorna and Cordelia, she welcomed them warmly and directed a staff member to take their item backstage in preparation for the auction.
The foundationâs operations were meticulous, and there was no chance of any auction items being tampered with or damaged.
As Mrs. Collins escorted Lorna to the back, they placed the painting in a secure area under the watchful eyes of the staff.
Once Lorna had left, Mrs. Collins returned to find the staff examining the painting. As they unfurled it, one commented, âMrs. Collins, weâre no art critics, but weâve heard that Mrs. Delaneyâs work is hardly worth fifty dollars. Isnât it a bit disrespectful for her to donate something like this?â
Mrs. Collins peered at the painting. âDonât jump to conclusions. I find it quite striking.â
The stage was set for an evening where perceptions could be turned on their head, where the value of art was subjective, and where the Delaney family drama would unfold under the gilded ceilings of Greenmeadow Grand Hotel.
The staff member grimaced with distaste. âItâs not exactly a masterpiece. I canât for the life of me understand what Mrs. Delaney was thinking. This painting is embarrassingly amateurish.â
Mrs. Collins shot him a glare that promptly sealed his lips. She sighed, her resolve hardening. Her daughter had developed quite the fondness for little Cordelia Delaney, and she couldnât just sit idly by. If push came to shove and the painting failed to attract any buyers, sheâd simply have someone discreetly offer a hundred grand for it. She wouldnât let Mrs. Delaney suffer the indignity of a noâsale.
Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when an aide burst into the room. âMrs. Collins, a distinguished guest has arrived, and theyâre headed backstage as we speak!â
Mrs. Collins blinked in surprise. âWho is it?â
Panting from the dash, the aide managed to say, âB. Aster!â
âWhat?â Mrs.
was taken aback. Although she wasnât wellâversed in watercolor painting, she knew that B. Aster was a deal. His works sold for millions; he was a living legend in the contemporary art world!
Her voice was laced with anxiety as she asked, âWhat does he want?â
The staff member replied, âHeâs here looking for a painting!â
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