Luxury Model Wife by Adele Downs Page A

with delight. “I’m liking you better every minute.” She elbowed Victoria in the ribs and snorted laughter. “And speaking of liking, I think I know somebody else who likes you.”
    “Who?”
    “You know who. He likes you. I can tell.”
    Victoria was drawn to Steve, too, and the attraction continued to grow. “Do you think he likes me…or he likes me?” She began to giggle. “Oh my God, I’m back in the eighth grade.”
    The women laughed until their eyes watered. “I think we’re drawing more of a crowd than the dolls,” Beverly said. “Guess I’d better pay attention before I miss out on the goodies.”
    “I want that nineteen sixties Twiggy doll,” Beverly whispered to Victoria. “I feel sorry for the girl who owned her, though, because that toy has never been played with. When I held it, I didn’t sense a single memory. Must have been stashed in a closet all these years. That’s good for me, of course, since a mint condition Twiggy doll is very hard to find. But it’s sad for the child who couldn’t enjoy her.”
    “It’s up next,” Victoria whispered back.
    The bidding war continued until Beverly seized her prize. “Whew. I need a cool drink after that battle,” she said. Beverly laid the Twiggy doll into a satchel she pulled from her purse.
    She continued to bid on dolls until her bag was full. “One more win and we’ll call it a day. I think I have enough booty to carry home.”
    *****
    Beverly started the engine of her vintage Mercedes Benz, flipped on the air-conditioning, and popped the tab on a Diet Coke. “Want one? They’re in the cooler.”
    Victoria opened another diet soda and drank it down. “The auction was fun and…interesting. I’ve never seen a group of adults so fascinated with dolls.”
    “Do you think that’s strange?” Beverly glanced sideways at Victoria as she posed the question, seemingly trying to read her face. “People who don’t collect often seem to think so.”
    Victoria sidestepped a direct reply, not sure of her answer. She’d always associated dolls with children, not grown men and women. She wondered if dolls were a way for Beverly to satisfy her maternal instincts, since she’d never had children.
    Victoria considered the complex woman beside her. Maybe doll collecting had nothing to do with maternity and was simply an endearing facet of Beverly’s eccentric personality. She decided to ask. “Why do you collect dolls?”
    Beverly’s response was immediate. “I love their history.”
    Victoria recalled her conversation with Edwina March, who collected for a similar reason.
    Beverly’s voice swelled with the confidence of her profession. “Dolls throughout the centuries have told us about the girls who played with them and the cultures they lived in.”
    She stopped talking and took another slug of Diet Coke. “Are you sure you want to hear all this? I’ve done so many presentations at the local library I know the information by heart.”
    “Absolutely. You might convert me. I’ve never collected anything, but if I did, I’d be tempted to buy dolls.” She poked Beverly in the thigh. “Go on, keep talking.”
    “Okay. Well, bisque revolutionized the toy industry in Europe in the nineteenth century when dolls became symbols of wealth and privilege. Only the rich could afford the intricately dressed mannequins of high fashion. The French fashion doll is probably the most coveted doll in the world today.”
    “Like the one in Lydia Van Orr’s collection?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Seems like not much has changed. Who else but the rich could afford that purchase?”
    “Good point.” Beverly nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. “There are collectors who would kill or steal to own that Rohmer. French fashion dolls become rarer every year.”
    “So Lydia’s doll will continue to appreciate.”
    “Hell, yeah. As long as the doll and wardrobe are stored properly to protect them from deterioration, they’re fabulous investments. The