Eye of the Beholder

the reviews, articles, and feature stories in the major journals and publications that served the art world would bring in other consulting opportunities. Private collectors would seek her out. Museum curators and gallery owners would begin to call on her again.
    It would take time, but she was determined to shed the taint of fraud that had tarnished her career.
    Everything depended on this project, she thought. The glittering reception the hotel management planned to celebrate the opening of the new resort would attract a host of VIPs. There would be influential people not only from the tourism industry, but also from a variety of Southwest and West Coast museums and galleries.
    Edward had told her that a reporter for Twentieth-Century Artifact was scheduled to attend the reception. The journal was considered a bible to everyone involved in the business of buying and selling the art and antiques of the twentieth century. It was TCA's "Insider's Notes" column that had done the most damage to her reputation following the McClelland fiasco.
    No, she definitely could not afford to annoy Edward Vale.
    On the other hand, she could not abide the thought of Dancing Satyr in the Avalon Resort collection. She had invested too much time, energy, and sheer passion on that collection. It was perfect, and it was hers.
    "I understand your position." She gave him her best shot at a placating smile. "But you've said yourself there will be a lot of experts at the hotel when it's opened. Why take a chance that one of them will recognize Dancing Satyr as a fake?"
    Edward shook his head. "Highly unlikely that will happen. It's good enough to fool me and Paxton Forsyth. What are the odds that there will be someone in the crowd who's got your instincts? I've never met anyone else who's got your feel."
    She had nothing left to lose. It was time to grovel. "Please, Edward. I'm throwing myself on your mercy. Leave it out of the collection as a favor to me."
    He looked pained. "This is business. I spent a good-sized chunk of my total budget on Dancing Satyr. Trask may not know art, but he does know money. Sooner or later someone will take a look at the invoices. What the hell am I supposed to say? 'Sorry, Mr. Trask, I dropped a bundle of your money on a fake statue and had to throw it away'?"
    "We've got time." Alexa tried for a cross between coaxing and persuasive. "It's not as though Trask will personally inspect the invoices. This is a corporate project. Heck, he'll probably never even see the bill. It will be handled by the company accountants, and it will take months to go through the process."
    Edward hesitated. "I don't know, Alexa. From what I've been told, Trask keeps an eye on every aspect of his business."
    She cast about in desperation. "Look, I'll make a deal with you. Promise me you'll leave Dancing Satyr out of the collection until after the opening night reception."
    "Alexa—"
    "Let the art critics and the gallery crowd see the good stuff that night. Give the media a chance to write the reviews. Wait until TCA tells the world that Avalon Resorts, Inc., houses a museum-caliber display of Art Deco. Then you can slip this stupid statue back into the collection if you really think it's genuine."
    Edward bounced on his toes again while he considered her offer. Alexa waited, intensely aware of the swift beat of her own pulse.
    "I'll think about it," Edward said finally.
    Alexa breathed deeply and allowed herself to relax slightly.
    "Thanks." She smiled. "You'll be doing yourself a favor by leaving this piece out. Like I said, why take the risk that someone else might recognize that it's a fake?"
    "You're the only one who seems to think it's not a genuine Ives." He shot the cuff of his pale linen jacket and recoiled in apparent shock when he saw the face of his black and silver watch. "Look, I've got to run. There are a million things that have to be done to prepare for the reception."
    "I understand."
    "Give me a hand with this, will you?" Edward stooped to grasp the hindquarters of Dancing Satyr.
    "Sure." Alexa took hold of the figure's head. " Sheesh . Not exactly a lightweight piece, is it?"
    "No." Edward backed cautiously through the cluttered stockroom toward the rear door. "By the way, the Clarice Cliff teapots arrived from Harbin 's this morning. They'll be gorgeous in that display case in the east wing."
    "Yes, I know. I chose them, remember? It took me months to hunt down a good representative selection. Then I had to pry