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“Ouch and ouch,” returned Emerson. “I guess that one is okay. Besides, I let you do my hair and make-up.”
“You’re kind of whiney this evening,” said Tegan, reaching up to place her hand on her oldest sister’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
“No. No I am not. I am deathly ill. Let’s send Kendra in that blue monstrosity. She can tell Toney I’m on death’s doorstep, but Ravenel Reliance is still there to support the charity.”
Kendra rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time to get ready or I would go, and might I add, I’d rock that cobalt blue dress. If you really hate it, I’m putting it and the matching shoes in my closet.”
“Go right ahead,” said Emerson. “I’d probably fall off the damn things and break my ankle.”
“I suppose you want to wear the black kitten-heeled sling backs with the rhinestone buckle?”
“I’d prefer to wear my riding boots, but I suppose that’s not an option.”
That put Tegan over the line, and she dissolved into laughter. Kendra rolled her eyes—it was her patented go-to move—and Emerson glared at her before they both joined their youngest sister.
“Okay, so I don’t hate the black dress, and I think you did a great job with my hair and make-up. Thanks.”
“Do you really hate Toney enough to risk insulting him and maybe the board?” asked Kendra, genuine concern in her voice.
“It’s not so much Toney himself. Him I can handle; it’s the damage he could do to our reputation, especially here in the city.”
“Well, if he gets out of line, kick him in the nuts and break his nose. God knows you’ve done it to others,” teased Kendra. “Seriously, if we have to leave Charleston, that’s what we do. We’ve talked before about relocating to a more metropolitan city. I think we’d be fabulous in London or Paris.”
“If we lived in Paris, I’d be the size of a house within six months. All those pastries,” said Tegan dreamily.
“Should we suffocate her with a pillow or drown her in the pool?” asked Kendra.
Of the three of them, Tegan was the one least likely to have a weight problem, but she did have a sweet tooth.
“Neither. If I had to look at all those gems and jewelry through that loupe of hers, I think I’d kill myself,” answered Emerson.
“Says the world’s foremost authority on antiquities and specifically Fabergé eggs.”
“They’re so exquisite,” said Emerson. “The attention to detail is amazing. By the way did we get paid for the authentication I did for the woman in Spain? You know, the one whose mother says she has a claim to the Russian throne?”
Tegan shook her head. “I don’t get it. They made such a fuss about being the closest relatives to the last tzar, but the tzars have been out of power for more than a century.”
“Yes, but the Russians have long memories,” said Emerson.
“Speaking of mysterious Russians,” said Kendra, “I think I read that Viktor Romanov was going to be there tonight.”
“Never heard of him,” said Emerson, dismissively.
That wasn’t necessarily the truth. Viktor Romanov was rumored to own not only several Fabergé eggs, but the iconic six—Fabergé eggs that were known to have been in the possession of the imperial family but were never found by the Bolsheviks. Some said they’d been stolen, and some said that they’d been smuggled out when the dowager empress and some of the tzar’s siblings had escaped to the west.
Emerson’s hobby horse was researching the six eggs and the rumors surrounding them in the hopes that someday she could figure out what had happened to them and return them to the world. No doubt there would be lots of claimants, but in Emerson’s mind, they belonged to the world. Although collecting a finder’s fee would be nice. She wasn’t worried about the Nazis having obtained them, as the eggs had disappeared before World War II. Besides, for the most part, the Nazis had kept meticulous records and so far, no one had found any mention of them.
“I’ve heard some unsavory, although interesting, things about Viktor,” said Tegan. “Ex special forces for the Brits, some ties to the Russian mafia, a shit ton of money and a lot of lurid tales about his dominance, sexual prowess, and how he keeps himself aloof from just about everyone.”
Emerson slipped into the black dress. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her.
To paraphrase an old country song, staring back from the looking glass stood a sexy woman where a tomboy had stood before. She touched her hair, her cheek, and then the dress itself.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have cut that hideous dress up,” said Kendra. “Toney is going to lose his mind. You look amazing, Em.”
“Yeah, I kind of agree.”
“Maybe Kendra should go,” said Tegan. “I know Toney throws us a lot of business, but it’s pretty obvious he only does it to impress Em.”
