Chapter 11

“I think I’ve found Nick’s costume jewelry.” Ashley walked into the lobby, carrying a large box. “That man loved his sparkles. There must be a hundred of these.” She set it down on the table and began removing velvet bags with drawstring necks.

Mike finished his coffee, picked up a bag, and opened it. The necklace was curved, designed to drip down the cleavage, and it shimmered with flashes of rainbow colors. “That’s beautiful.”

“That was his favorite,” Anthony said with a sad smile.

“You can’t sell that one.” Elliott’s eyes lit up. “You should wear it for the show.”

“Will you all stop reminding me? I still think it’s a bad idea. I can’t sing—”

“Lip sync, honey.” Jim’s eyes twinkled. “Remember? All we have to do is find you the right song, then rehearse the fuck out of it.”

“And I’ve never worn heels in my life.” Mike wasn’t giving in without a fight.

“Then you practice,” Sam said with a shrug. “Wear ’em around the place, get used to them…” He chuckled. “You should’ve seen me the first time I tried. I was about as graceful as a hippo.”

Anthony snorted. “You still are. About the same size as one, too. I mean, come on , that ass…”

“Fuck you, bitch.” Sam’s voice held amusement, though.

Mike gaped at Anthony. “Are you kidding? Sam’s slimmer than me. And I think he’s got a nice ass.”

Five pairs of eyes focused on him, and four of them gleamed.

“Oh really?” Jim drawled. “My, isn’t that interesting?”

He coughed. “Let’s get back to the jewelry.” Then he glanced at Ashley. “What are you doing? Are you trying to eat that pearl earring?”

She laughed. “Don’t you know the simplest way to tell if a pearl is natural or fake is to take the pearl and rub it against your teeth. If the surface feels grainy, then it’s real. If the surface feels smooth, then it’s an imitation.”

“As it happens, I did know that.” Mike stared at the earring nestled in its square box. It was a drop design, with a long dangly piece, three pearls set into the gold. Hanging from the bottom and sitting below the hook were yellow-green gemstones that caught the light.

His heart pounded.

What the fuck?

“Those look like peridot,” Ashley commented.

“That’s because they are. And you don’t need to test those pearls,” Mike murmured. “They’re real.”

She arched her eyebrows. “And when did you become an expert in jewelry? How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen them before.”

She smirked. “I don’t think your uncle would’ve worn these when he visited for the holidays. That might really have freaked your dad out.”

“He didn’t. They were my grandmother’s.” Then he noted the knowing smiles of the four men sitting with him. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“When did you last see these?” Jim asked.

“When I was little. Grandma told me how to test them. Then she caught me in her room, trying to bite one.” He held up the little leather box. “So what do you know about them?”

Anthony smiled. “They were Nancy’s, all right.”

Mike gaped. That had been her name. She’d died nearly five years ago. “And how did you know her?”

“She used to come here to watch the shows,” Jim explained.

“Grandma was into drag ?”

Elliott beamed. “She loved it. She came to the first show we ever did. She used to stay for the weekend, and we’d treat her like royalty. Then one Christmas, she watched Nick perform. A week later, the earrings arrived. She said she wanted Nick to have them, because she hadn’t worn them for years, and they’d be perfect with his gold costume.”

Mike stared at the antique earrings. “I think I’ve uncovered all Nick’s surprises, and then you up and toss out a new one.” He gazed at the pretty jewelry. “They might fetch a good price.”

“You can’t sell them, “Ashley protested.

“Why not?” Mike looked her in the eye. “What do you think Nick would want—for the Velvet House to go under, or for the show to go on?”

“Not the Velvet House—Nick’s Place,” Sam reminded him. “We’ll need a new sign. Leave that to me.”

Mike gave him a grateful smile. Then he frowned. “Don’t look now, but we have company.”

There was a man in a suit standing at the door, staring at them.

Anthony ground out a snarl. “Ben fucking Sharp. I said it wouldn’t be long before he crawled out of his sewer and slimed his way here, didn’t I?” He burst into song. This time it was “Let ’Em In” by Paul McCartney.

“Maybe the rats developed good taste in friends and kicked him out,” Elliott suggested.

Mike stood. “I’d better let him in.” He glanced at the others. “Please stay?”

Jim guffawed. “Honey, we ain’t going nowhere. You need all the help you can get.”

Mike went over to the door and opened it. “Sharp? What can I do for you?”

Mr. Sharp blinked, then offered a broad smile. “I see the Provincetown grapevine is still in full vigor.” Then he glanced over Mike’s shoulder, and his smile lost some of its wattage. “May I come in?”

Mike stood aside and indicated one of the armchairs. “Have a seat.” He waited until their uninvited guest was settled before sitting on the couch facing him. Jim, Anthony, Elliott, and Sam stood behind the couch, arms folded, their expressions neutral.

“But don’t get too comfortable, Benjamin , ’cause you ain’t stayin’,” Anthony flung at him.

Mike took a moment to assess Ben Sharp. His name suited him, from his elbows resting on the armchair rests, to his knees, the lines of his face, right down to his pointed chin.

Ben cleared his throat. “You’re Mike O’Neill, aren’t you? Nick’s nephew.”

Mike nodded.

“And you are?” Ben peered at Ashley.

She gave a wave of her hand. “No one you need worry about. Why don’t you just cut to the chase?”

That earned her another blink.

“Why are you here, Sharp?” Mike asked before Ashley could say another word.

Ben winced a little at the use of his surname, but overcame it quickly. “I hear you’ve inherited this place,” he said with a sweep of his arm. Then he straightened his red tie. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should just cut to the chase , as it were. Take a long, hard look, Mr. O’Neill. This place is rundown. Perhaps it would be nearer the mark to say it’s broken down. Who knows what horrors a survey would reveal? How much would it take to restore the Velvet House to her former glory? We could be talking hundreds of thousands of dollars.” He gave Mike a compassionate smile. “Vast sums you might not have at your disposal. You’re clearly an intelligent man. You must realize you’ve inherited a money pit.” He glanced at the four men standing. “Not to mention all the other… baggage the place comes with.” He raised his chin, that broad smile back in evidence. “So let me take it all off your hands. I understand the property market, and indeed, I own a great many properties. I have a large portfolio. And I’m willing to relieve you of this burden. I’d give you a fair price for it.”

The magnanimous prick managed to sound as if he’d be doing Mike a favor.

Mike returned his smile, then stood. “Thank you for dropping by. I’m sure it would be a reasonable offer, but I’m afraid I’m not interested in selling.”

Ben gaped at him, as though Mike had grown a second head. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hasty? I mean, you haven’t even heard my offer yet.”

“There seems little point in doing that if I don’t want to sell, don’t you think?”

Ben stood. “But I’m willing to offer you two million dollars. Surely that’s worth considering?”

What the —

Two million?

Two million dollars?

Ashley made a choking sound, and Mike jerked his head in her direction. She grabbed his notepad from the table and scribbled on it.

“That’s a very generous offer, and—”

She tore off the top sheet and thrust it into Mike’s hand. He peered at it.

Tell him to fuck off. This place could be worth three times that much by the time we’re finished. At least .

He bit back a smile. “I’m still going to have to decline, Sharp.”

“Would you at least let me come back to you with a better offer at some point in the future?”

Mike shrugged. “You’re free to do that, of course. I still think you’d be wasting your time.” He walked to the door. “Thank you for your interest.”

“Yeah, and watch the door doesn’t ruin your suit when it smacks you in the ass, Benjamin ,” Jim called out.

There was nothing Ben Sharp could do but leave.

He smoothed down his jacket. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again,” he murmured as he passed through the doorway onto the porch.

“I’m sure we will too,” Mike muttered as he closed the door behind him.

The explosion took place a second later.

“Of all the nerve.”

“Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“There’s a three-bedroom house right now on Commercial Street that’s asking for almost four million.”

“Find a house for under a million in this town and you’d be talking about a shed.”

Ashley snorted. “Did he really think you’d roll over and say thank you, here are the keys, it’s yours ?”

Mike smiled. “I think if I’d said yes, Nick would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life.”

One thing Sharp had said had given him pause for thought, however.

A survey?

Maybe he needed to get one done, to provide an accurate picture of the house’s state. Right then, the most useful thing he could do was assess what was needed to get the hotel open again.

Someone touched his shoulder, and he turned to see who it was. Sam gazed at him. “Ready to see what state this place is in?”

Mike smiled. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

It was time to roll up his sleeves and get to work.