Unspoken (2 page)

“I’m interested.”

“I’ll send you photos and prices. And to think when this evening started I was bored and restless. Ann back home yet? She’ll enjoy seeing these coins.”

“Ohio for another two days. She wants me to invite you over for dinner. She’s got someone she would like you to meet.”

“I like your wife, and surprisingly like her friends, but we’ve determined I’m not matchmaking material.”

“You’re simply . . . choosy.”

“That’s one word for it. Sure. Tell her I’ll come for dinner if she can give me some notice. It’s going to be a hectic month.” He would need the break, and it would be useful to see what else Paul might tell him about Charlotte Graham if pressed. He wondered idly what her real name was. “Anything you can tell me about why Charlotte’s got cops vouching for her?”

“No. I got a call, made a call. I was surprised to hear she was in Chicago.”

“Wish she hadn’t been.”

Paul laughed. “Now I’m curious to meet her just because she rubbed you the wrong way. Don’t make a quick decision about this one, Bryce. She’s not all she appears to be.”

“That I’ve figured out. Talk to you tomorrow, Paul.”

Bishop hung up the phone, tossed it on the dresser with his
wallet, then tussled with a stuck cuff link. The woman was going to be a pain, no matter what her name was. He set his alarm for five a.m., his mind already formulating a strategy for the next few days. He had cash to raise, his staff to mobilize, clients to contact. He pulled out jeans and a sweatshirt, then headed downstairs to get dinner. He was no longer bored. He’d give her some credit for that.

“I wish she’d let one of us go with her.” Ellie Dance set aside the background check on Bryce Bishop and moved over a glass paperweight—a gift from Charlotte—to hold the pages.

John Key, leaning against the doorjamb of Ellie’s home office, ate another pecan from the handful he held. “She’ll be fine. He’s a good guy.”

“A bit conservative, on the edge of stuffy, but yeah—a good guy. Did we talk her into Bishop because we didn’t want her to head to Atlanta or New York?”

“Probably.” John smiled. “Don’t rethink it, Ellie. The decision is made. You spent months gaming this out. This will work for her. She needs to keep a low profile when in Chicago, but she’s been doing that for the last decade. She’ll be fine.”

“Then why am I as nervous as a new mother?”

“You like protecting people, organizing things. It makes you a good business manager for Charlotte and an even better best friend.”

Ellie glanced at the photo on the desk. Sixteen years of friendship, fourteen in business together—they knew each other’s darkest secrets, and they both had some very difficult ones. Charlotte had been calm when she left, mentally ready, but she hadn’t eaten. Under the calm had been a fine layer of nerves. She’d be hungry when she got back. Lasagna was baking in the oven. It wasn’t much, but there would be a meal ready. “I’ve been
doing some more thinking on her final options. I’ll have something on paper for her to consider in another six weeks or so.”

“The final deadline is three years after her grandfather’s death. She’s still got time before she has to decide.”

They heard the back door security chime as the code to Ellie’s home cleared. John glanced over his shoulder and straightened. “She’s back earlier than I expected.”

Ellie shut off the desk lamp and found her shoes. Charlotte would want a few minutes to settle before being asked about the evening, so neither one hurried to meet her. “Take Mitch some dinner since you’ve got him posted for security tonight.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“You said low profile and we would be fine.”

“Think I’d leave anything to chance?”

“No. I’m guessing you also had Joseph discreetly tailing her since she said you couldn’t.” Ellie paused beside him, slid an arm around his waist. He’d marry her in a minute if she’d let him, had made no secret of that fact over the years. “Glad you’re here.”

John dropped a kiss on her hair. “So am I.”

“What’s she going to ultimately decide, John?”

“She’ll turn it down.”

Ellie sighed. “Yeah. I think so too.”

He ran a comforting hand across her back. “You want her to say yes even given the condition?”

“I think she’d be happier if she did.”

He thought about it. “Maybe she would be. But this has pushed her enough outside her comfort zone there’s not enough safe space and time for her to come to that conclusion.”

“I need to figure out a way to create that safe space while there’s still time.”

“If that’s possible to do, you’ll find it.” He shut off the office lights and reached for her hand as he turned them toward the kitchen. “Did Charlotte give you her latest sketchbook?”

“The Shadow Lake sketches? They’re lovely. I’ll be at the gallery tomorrow getting the best of them framed. I’m going to raise her prices again this month.”

“She winces at the prices you charge for one of her sketches.”

“Which is why an artist needs a business manager, someone who can price a work appropriately for the market.”

“I heard a rumor there’s a new Marie painting coming.”

“A thirty-six by forty-eight-inch canvas—
Rolling Hills at Sunset
. Probably a few weeks yet.”

“If she hasn’t already told you,” John said, “Charlotte would like to buy it. She’s never been able to afford one before.”

“I’ll show it at the gallery for six months before setting the price, but it’s going to be multiples higher than Marie’s last painting.”

“It will be worth every penny. I’m planning to make a trip back down just to see it.” He stopped them in the hall just short of the kitchen. “Relax.”

“I wish Charlotte’s grandfather had never found her, wish none of this was being asked of her. If we got this wrong, John—”

“If we did, we’ll adjust.” He squeezed her hand. “Elliot Marks out of Atlanta could work. I just like Bryce Bishop more.”

“So do I. Okay.” Ellie smoothed a hand down her dress and took a deep breath. “We’re going to get her through this. No matter what else happens, she’s got us.”

“She always will,” John promised. “Whatever she says about tonight, simply say ‘we can work with that.’”

Ellie laughed and tightened her hand in his. “Let’s go see how the evening went.”

B
ryce let himself into Charlotte’s shop using the key and security code she had given him, found the lights. He carried the box he had brought into the showroom and set it on the desk.

She had built a beautiful store. In the early morning light he was even more impressed with what she had accomplished with the space. This was formidable competition.

Bishop Chicago had a leg up with their website, the eighty years of history and reputation, knowledgeable staff, and a deep list of clients. But quality and price were the cornerstones of the coin business. Charlotte could poach his sales staff for their expertise. If she added a three-year buy-back guarantee to what she sold—and she could afford to do it at these prices—sales at Bishop Chicago would virtually stop. In the light of day the decision to buy out her inventory was not only the right decision, it was his only decision. She hadn’t hesitated to go for the jugular on this deal. He wondered where she had learned that ruthless bent, might even have cautiously admired it if she hadn’t targeted him.

He slipped on white cotton gloves, entered the security code to open the first display case, and picked up one of the coins.
He turned it over to study the details, confirming what he had observed the night before. She was both under-grading the coins and pricing well below market. The woman was going to make him some serious money if he could survive her method of selling.

He put the coin back, studied the rest of the display, and for the first time since this began let himself relax and simply appreciate the sight. The coins were his, at very good prices. In a business where the initial purchase determined much of the final profit, he’d made a good decision. He’d been forced to make it, but the decision itself was solid. The risk was not in the coins, but in the scale of the deal.

He took a seat in a very comfortable chair, pulled out a pen and paper, and started a list.

He’d spent one million six keeping this inventory from hitting the market. He wanted to have four million in cash on hand before she showed him the next group of coins. There was a high probability he had seen the best coins she had with this collection, yet he wasn’t going to make the assumption the next lots of coins would cost him less. She’d show him another group of coins, and another after that. So four million in liquid cash in thirty days. Careful decisions. Nothing stupid. But he had to be ready and able to say yes.

With inventory purchased at these prices, if he could absorb all she had to offer, if he could keep her out of the business as a competitor, he could nearly guarantee Bishop Chicago would prosper for the next decade. He just had to navigate the cash flow when he wasn’t sure how deep he had to plan.

He heard the back door open with a soft chime and glanced at his watch. She had said seven a.m., and she was a few minutes early. She came in dressed much the same as last night, jeans and a sweatshirt from a university in Texas this time. She had brought her own coffee.

“Breakfast is on the desk if you’re interested,” he mentioned.

“Poisoned, perhaps?”

He half smiled. “Not until I’ve bought all your coins.”

A beautifully brushed Irish setter had walked in beside her and now sat looking at him. He held his hand down, palm out, and the dog got up to come over. “Beautiful animal.”

“Princess is the regal one in the family. Her sister Duchess is very much the mischief-maker.” She helped herself to a bagel and cream cheese. “I’m on my way out of town. Anything you need to ask before I leave?”

“Insurance and security.”

“My insurance will continue to cover the coins until they leave the premises. I’m now listed as custodian of the coins you’ve bought. Your security firm is already monitoring this storefront.” She shrugged. “Seemed simpler as you would know who was best for the job.”

“I need a phone number where I can reach you.”

She pulled out a business card, added a number to the back, offered it.

The front of the card was simply her name.

“When will you be back?”

She opened an orange juice. “A few weeks.”

“I’ll have the coins moved from here by then.”

“No problem. Codes and locks have been changed. You and I are the only ones with access to this place.” She perched on the arm of a chair. “Still mad?” she asked around a bite of the bagel.

He had to smile. “More just curious. Why me? Why not Cambridge Coins out of New York?”

“You’re a Christian, a teacher at your church. It offends your God if you steal. That’s useful to me.”

He felt a startled surprise. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t believe like you do, but it’s an interesting fact that you do. Family businesses thrive or die by the ethics of the guy running the place. Bishop Chicago is profitable—has to be to
keep the doors open. But you don’t cut corners to get there because you also have to sleep well at night. I bet you reimburse the business for postage when you use a stamp for a personal letter.”

He felt like he was being complimented and insulted at the same time. “I’m more comfortable following the rules.”

She laughed. “I could also say it was easier to haul the coins to Chicago than to take them to New York.” She pushed off the arm of the chair, and the setter went to stand beside her. “I want to make the tollway before traffic picks up. I’ll get out of here, let you get to work. ”

“Drive carefully, Charlotte.”

“Plan to. Oh—one last thing. Would you carry the flowers next door before they die? Your staff might enjoy them.”

“I’ll do that. You set quite a display for a single customer.”

“This was practice.”

“For what?”

She just smiled. “See you in a few weeks, Bishop.”

Two blocks east of Bishop Chicago was Falcons, a restaurant whose owner and head chef was Paul Falcon’s sister, Jackie. The restaurant opened at ten thirty for the early lunch crowd, but those with a longtime friendship with her could get breakfast and a quiet place to have a meeting. Bryce qualified, and he spent twenty minutes reminiscing with Jackie in the kitchen while she began cooking their breakfast, then walked into the dining room and chose a table in the empty room. He pulled the list out of his pocket and added more notes while he waited for his key staff to arrive.

“Hey, boss.” Devon pulled out chairs for Sharon and Kim and took a seat between them. “Glad you called.”

“Nice you were all free.” Bryce passed across a basket of hot blueberry muffins just out of the oven.

Two waitstaff appeared with filled plates, followed by their waitress. “It’s a pleasure to have you back, Bryce,” she said.

“This looks wonderful, Amy.” She poured coffee for the four of them and left them to their breakfast meeting.

“So, boss, what did we do to earn this?” Devon asked, reaching for cream for his coffee.

“It’s what you’re going to do,” Bryce replied, sampling the crepe and nodding his appreciation. Jackie laid out a nice breakfast. “Remember how we used to dream about the big estate find? The one that would put Bishop Chicago on the map and make us all rich?”

Devon put down his muffin and looked at Bryce. “The one that would let me afford to marry Sharon?”

His wife made a face and elbowed him in the ribs for that quip.

Bishop smiled. “That’s the one. It dropped into our laps last night.”

“Seriously, boss?” Kim asked, setting down her orange juice.

He turned his attention to her. Kim Leonard was the best salesperson he had, and the success of his plan rested in large part on her skills. “Kim, I’m going to hand you five hundred coins to sell, mostly gold, 1810 to 1880, all high grade, and I need you to move half of them within a month.”

Kim’s hand trembled against the glass. But Bryce saw the gleam of excitement in her eyes and gave her a slight nod. She worked on salary plus a three-percent commission, and he was offering to make her a very good year. “Have your best sales staff on the phones to contact customers, plan an auction, travel to show the coins—whatever you decide will work best. The first of the coins are going to reach Bishop Chicago this afternoon. I’ve already laid some ground with Paul Falcon to take a package of fifty for two hundred fifty thousand, so you can work that possibility as one of your first sales.”

“I’ll wow him,” she promised.

Bryce looked over at Sharon. “The two photographers you like to work with on the auction catalogs—I’ll make it worth their while to come to the shop and work for you for the next couple of months. You’re the best I’ve got for presentation, so how to display the coins—in the store, the catalog, on the website—is going to fall to you. I’m raising you to double on all overtime plus a percent commission on these coins. Anything I can do to free up your time—hire a housekeeper, keep your husband out of your way—just let me know.”

She smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Bryce.”

Bryce looked at the man he trusted most with the business. “Devon, grading the coins and getting them into inventory will be on you and your staff. Let’s batch them through in groups of twenty-five, with at least an hour break between groups. I need careful work as much as I need fast work.”

“We can handle it, boss.”

“I’m counting on it. I want you and Kim to go over the coin prices and bring me a list with your recommendations. I’ll make the final decision on what price we’ll bring them to market.”

He glanced around the table. “Devon grades the coins and gets them into inventory, Sharon photographs, Kim sells. And while you all are doing that—” he paused, enjoying the moment—“I’m going to find us the cash to buy more coins from the same estate.”

He sampled the sausage puff pastry while his speechless staff stopped eating. Jackie wouldn’t appreciate plates coming back with food untasted.

“There’s more?” Devon asked for all of them.

Bryce reached for his coffee. “I’m told there is.”

He’d been working the numbers in his head most of the morning. “Devon, I’d like to take everything we have in present inventory down in price to our cost plus eight percent. It will move inventory, raise cash, and give us much-needed vault and display space. But that’s going to put enormous strain on the
website business for processing orders, packaging, and shipping coins. I need you to go back through the employment records, look at those we have employed on a temporary basis to help at auctions, at coin shows, select those who are careful, who work well with minimal supervision, and staff us up to handle it. As soon as you have enough staff on hand to provide quality service, take down the prices.”

“I can think of several possibilities without even pulling the files.”

“They’ll be temp positions, but at least four months of steady work.” Bryce considered the problems he had identified. “Depending on the pace of sales, managing the vault space is going to be one of the squeeze points. We’re fine for the first five hundred coins, but it’s the group after this one that starts to get interesting. So for now, Devon, I’m going to take back on my plate all purchase decisions on new inventory.”

“I’ve got no problem with that, boss. I imagine cash flow is going to be interesting for a while too.”

Bryce nodded. “I broke my piggy bank this morning and told my banker I was putting another slug of personal cash into the business. When you see the coins over the next few days, you’ll understand the gamble. I think we have the potential to secure our profitability for the next several years if we manage this carefully. We need to expand vault space so we can hold more inventory—I’ll be focused on fixing that.”

Bryce settled back in his chair, his coffee in his hand. “One last thing. I’m not going to tell you much about the estate, or the lady selling. She’s got some sting to her.”

Devon appeared to think about that. “Sounds interesting.”

Bryce laughed. “Oh, she is that.”

He finished his coffee, then the last of the crepe. He hadn’t enjoyed a breakfast meeting more than this one in ages. He glanced at the time and made a decision. He set aside his napkin,
pushed back his chair. “I’m going to let the three of you enjoy your breakfast and plan the details of this while I go get the first hundred coins. I’ll meet you back at the shop in, say, an hour and a half.”

Sharon smiled at him. “I don’t think you’re bored anymore, Bryce.”

“Not so much.”

“We’ll be ready for the coins. It’s going to be fun,” Sharon promised.