Houses of Stone, KATHY [classic literature books TXT] 📗

They squeezed past knees and bundles, and Peggy said warningly, "I told you to leave this to me. If you've got rivals who might bid against you, you get someone else to bid for you. Simon and I made arrangements last night."

"Oh. You didn't believe Bill either?"

"Bill is not the one I'm worried about. You haven't spotted her, I take it."

Only Karen's interest in the proceedings would have prevented her from seeing someone so conspicuous. Dorothea stood at the back of the tent, her arms folded. Penciled brows raised, lips tight, she did not attempt to disguise the fact that she was watching Karen. Catching the latter's eye, she nodded brusquely but did not smile or wave.

"See any scratches?" Karen muttered.

"Hard to tell from here, she's got so much makeup plastered on her face. Is she wearing gloves?"

"I can't tell . . . Yes, by golly, I think she is! That's suspicious, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. She may not want to dirty her elegant hands. She bid on everything either of us did," Peggy went on, drawing Karen away.

"Even the dog?" Karen asked incredulously.

"Yep. Ran it up fifty bucks extra." A look of evil anticipation transformed Peggy's face. "I'll get back at her before the day is over. That's encouraging, actually; it means she doesn't have the faintest idea what she's looking for."

Karen was not surprised to find Joan at the refreshment stand devouring pie. "Sharon is getting bored," she announced. "She'll probably leave pretty soon. Have you seen Bill? Poor baby, doesn't he look terrible? I hope you told him how noble he is."

"I haven't had a chance," Karen said defensively. "Anyhow, he's probably gotten enough gushing admiration from you."

"He wants it from you," Joan said. "Not that he actually said so; it was my sensitive feminine intuition that enabled me to discern his shy yearnings."

"You do have a way with words," Karen said with a reluctant grin. " 'Shy' is not the one I'd apply to Bill, but maybe I have been unfair to him; I have to give him credit, he hasn't swaggered up demanding appreciation. I'll work up a good gush, I promise. Peggy, shouldn't we be getting back?"

"Everything is under control." Peggy dumped sugar into her coffee. "I haven't seen Cameron, have you?"

"I haven't been looking for him."

"I have," Peggy said calmly. "I expected he'd be here to see how prices were running."

"If he shows up I want to meet him," Joan announced. "Since I don't seem to be making any progress with Bill."

They left her still eating pie.

It was late in the afternoon before Cameron made his appearance. Karen spotted him first; the auctioneer had been selling furniture for well over an hour and her interest had flagged. She nudged Peggy, who was chortling because she had conned Dorothea into buying a box of old National Geographic magazines for an outrageous price.

"There's Cameron."

"Oh, good." Peggy gathered up her belongings. "I'm ready to take a break. Let's go talk to him."

When they arrived Simon was talking to Cameron. Simon's elegantly casual attire and aristocratic features made Cameron's rolled shirt sleeves, faded denim pants and heavy work shoes look even shabbier. He had shaved that morning, however, and made some attempt to clean the ingrained grime from his hands. They were raw and red and crisscrossed with angry scratches.

That didn't mean anything, Karen thought. Cameron's hands always looked that way.

Simon said, "I was telling Mr. Hayes that prices seem to be running high. He should do well."

"Thanks in part to us," Peggy said, grinning at Cameron. "I squeezed an extra twenty bucks out of Angelo for that awful flower painting." Her smile fading, she added gloomily, "She's run me up on a few things too."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Cameron said politely.

"You shouldn't be. Where've you been? Your cousin has been here since dawn, adding up prices. Aren't you anxious to find out how rich you're going to be?"

Simon rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "Really, Peggy, you have the manners of a battering ram."

"That's all right." Cameron's face relaxed into a smile. "I'm accustomed to Peggy's—er—candor. Lisa has more leisure than I, Peggy. As you can probably tell from my appearance, I was working. I think I have a buyer for the house. That won't affect your plans," he added, anticipating her reply. "The deal won't be finalized for several weeks, so you'll have time to finish what you want to do at Amberley."

"I'm glad to hear it, for your sake." Peggy's brow furrowed. "It could affect our plans, though, if the buyer intends to make extensive alterations. Is he going to develop the land, or—"

"For pity's sake, Peggy, this is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion," Simon said, scandalized at her bluntness. "We'd better get back to the bidding. Nice to have seen you, Mr. Hayes."

Amused and unashamed, Peggy let him draw her away. Karen was about to follow when Cameron said, "If you have a few minutes, Karen, I'd like to talk to you."

"All right. Let's go outside; it's stifling in here, and I could use a breath of fresh air."

Picnic tables and chairs had been set up in the shade of the trees near the barn. All the seats were occupied, however, so Karen leaned against a tree. Cameron stood facing her; she could tell from his expression that he wasn't looking forward to the conversation.

"I heard about your . . . accident last evening," he began.

"From whom?"

"Dr. Meyer. He didn't volunteer the information; I met him when I arrived today and asked what had happened to him." Cameron hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain how to phrase his next statement. "He doesn't believe it was an accident."

"He doesn't?"

"Is that all you have to say?" Cameron's cheeks darkened. "You might have been killed."

"Oh, I doubt it." Karen folded her arms and tried to look unconcerned. "It was some kid, driving too fast and losing control. The near miss probably scared him as much as it did