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“Selma mentioned that. And no idea who took it?”
“Not yet. I don’t suppose you’ve heard back from this mysterious friend about the secret auction?”
“Another auction actually came up, this one in Milan, though I’m not sure it’s at all the one you’re looking for. Someone had the bright idea of combining cars with fashion and selling high-priced tickets. What makes this a possibility is that a late entry is creating a lot of buzz. A Rolls not previously seen on the market. But it’s specified as an ‘early model,’ not an ’06 or ’07. I have two press passes that will get you in the door for an up close look at the cars.”
“When is it?”
“This weekend,” Georgia said. “I still haven’t heard back on the other one. It’s by invitation only. Very private, no tickets, no press. Also a Rolls—near Rome, though.”
“No year?”
“Early forty-fifty, is what I heard.” She leaned back against the flowered cushions, the wicker squeaking beneath her weight. “As I mentioned to Selma, the person I’m waiting to hear from is a friend of a friend of a friend. Maybe not even that close. I’m talking to someone who is intermediating, I suppose you could say. All very hush-hush, which means they won’t even know that I’m the one making inquiries. It took some convincing to assure him you want the car for a very private collection. The undeclared sort.” She looked at Remi and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted you and Sam as less than savory investors?”
“If it gets us in the door, I’m sure we’ll weather the stain on our reputations.”
“That’s what I thought. So, what else is new? I see you and Sam are still out traveling the world. You’re not feeling the urge to stay home and start a family?”
Remi laughed as she tried to picture her and Sam settling down with a baby. “Let’s just say nothing in the immediate future. Plenty of time to think about that later.”
“I’m serious. I worry about you, Remi. Part of me hopes this person doesn’t call back. What if something happens to you out there? That old saying, life turns on a dime? There’s a reason for it.”
Remi reached over and touched her friend’s arm. “We’re careful. And you know Sam. He’s not going to let anything happen to me.”
Georgia looked up as John climbed the steps from the garden, followed by Oliver, Chad, and Sam, who was carrying two bottles of Chianti. “Speaking of, here’s your fearless husband now.”
Sam placed the bottles on the table, then brushed his hand on Remi’s shoulder as he took the chair next to hers. “What are you two talking about? Or do I want to know?”
Georgia’s phone rang. She leaned forward, nearly spilling her drink as she scooped it up to check the caller ID. “It’s him.”
“Who?” Sam asked, as Oliver and Chad took a seat in the remaining chairs, while John opened a bottle of wine.
“Her contact,” Remi whispered. “About the cars.”
Georgia signaled for them to stay quiet while she answered, her Italian so rapid-fire, Remi had a hard time keeping up, until she switched to English, saying, “They’re here with me now. I’ll check.” Georgia pressed the mute button on her phone. “If you can make it to Rome, he says his friend is willing to meet somewhere public, but no large crowds.”
“Remi?” Sam asked.
She knew the perfect restaurant. “Ask him if he’s familiar with Hostaria Antica Roma on the Appian Way.”
Georgia repeated the location. “. . . Very good. Ciao.” She hung up, telling them, “He’ll meet you there tomorrow at noon.”
“Tomorrow?” Remi said. “That makes it difficult to get to the other auction.”
“What auction?” Sam asked.
“Milan,” Georgia said, telling him about the event.
“Sorry to say,” Sam said, “we can’t be in two places at one time.”
“Oliver and I can go to the Milan event,” Chad said. “If it turns out to be nothing, no time wasted.”
Remi checked Oliver, noting his hands clasped tightly on the arms of the chair. The poor man looked ready to bolt, and she could hardly blame him. “Are you okay with that?” she asked.
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, “If it helps with my uncle’s case, then yes.”
“Looks like we have our itinerary for tomorrow,” Sam said.
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