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Authors: Linda Hill

BOOK: Treasured Past
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“Wow.” The word came out slowly, completely sincere. “This is nice.” My eyes wandered from one display to the next. “I didn’t expect that I’d want to shop, but I think I may have to browse around.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Her smile was finally sincere. I noticed that she was wearing a pair of jeans today, a departure from the skirts she normally wore. The long brown hair was as unruly as ever in its bundled-up state atop her head. She certainly was curious. “You’ve never been here before?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t usually go to many antique stores, although I’m not quite sure why.”

“Perhaps stores lack that certain thrill of anticipation and triumph that you get at an auction.”

I stared at her dead-on. She was probably right, although I’d never given it a second thought before this moment.

“Maybe.” I’d only give her that much. “I’m afraid I’m just not a very good shopper. Of anything, actually. I hate shopping.”

She was holding back a smile, and it made me crazy. Was hating to shop a crime, for
godsake
? Un-American?

“I understand,” she finally said. “I’m not a nut about shopping either, but I do like antiquing, in any form.” She laughed, and I was charmed all over again. “Nothing’s better than when you find a particular piece that you’ve been searching for forever. Unless of course it’s in mint condition and the seller is asking far less than what it’s worth. I admit I get an awful thrill out of that.”

“A bigger thrill than outbidding me at auction?” I decided to try my hand at a bit of humor, and was rewarded with a sudden smile, followed by a grimace.

“The truth is that I always seem to bid too high when it’s you I’m bidding against.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I do too!”

“Now why do you suppose that is,” she asked, and I could feel heat rising in my cheeks as our gazes locked. I couldn’t stand it.

“It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with my competitive nature, I’m sure,” I told her.

“Nor my desire to win at all costs,” she replied.

Again we laughed, eyes locking. Her gray eyes seemed to grow darker. This time I wasn’t able to come up with a quick reply.

The silence stretched a little long, until she finally found the words to thankfully interrupt what I was certain was a longing look on my part.

“So what did you want to see me about?” She dropped her glance and stepped away from me, turning the corner until she was firmly planted on the other side of a long wooden countertop. I was thankful for the distance, and the distraction.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to tell you, so I’ll come right out with it. You remember the desk and bookcase that I picked up the other night at the auction?”

Again that slow smile. “As if I could forget. You were in rare form that night.”

I tried not to let her teasing get to me. “I know. I went a bit over the top.”

“But you won,” she interjected.

“Yes I did, and it was for charity,” I reminded her.

“Uh-huh.” I could barely tolerate her making fun of me, but I was determined not to let her get to me.

“Anyway ...” I narrowed my gaze. “Once I brought it all home I realized that none of it goes with the furniture that I currently have in my office.”

Her mouth flew open, her eyes horrified. “You’re not going to give them up, are you?”

“No,” I insisted. “I love those pieces and intend to enjoy them for a very long time. But the problem is that I have some mahogany pieces — desk, bookcase, and credenza — that I don’t need any longer. I was wondering if you might take things on here for people, on consignment. Or if you might be interested in taking them off my hands.”

The look on her face was difficult to interpret. “So you’re here on business.”

I nearly choked while trying to figure out exactly what she meant by that. Was she disappointed?

“More or less.”

She stared at me, and I watched the smile return.

“Actually,” I stuttered, “Beth suggested that I call you to see if you’d be interested or if we could work out an arrangement. I didn’t think you would, but thought I’d take a chance and drop in.”

She smiled slowly, warming my innards. “Beth is very sweet. Have you known her long?”

The way she smiled when she mentioned Beth’s name made me pause. It would be just my luck to find out that she was interested in Beth.
Get a grip,
I told myself.
You don’t even know if she’s a lesbian.

“Many years,” I replied, my voice steady. “Since high school.”

Both eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s a long time.”

I grinned. “Are you insinuating that I’m an old woman?”

“God no.” She laughed. “I’m sure I’ve got at least ten years on you.”

I wanted to ask her age, but didn’t.

“In any case, it sounds like I should probably take a look at this furniture of yours. I don’t suppose you have a photo with you?”

I smiled sheepishly. I hadn’t even thought to take one.

She shrugged. “That’s okay. Perhaps I could come by and take a look?”

I stared at her, and blinked hard. I hadn’t been prepared for this turn of events.

“Sure. That would be great,” I finally spoke. “When’s good for you?”

“Ah.” She turned to pick up an appointment book and began flipping pages.

“Unfortunately, I’m only free on evenings and weekends,” I told her.

“That’s okay,” she told me, glancing up. “What about Friday or Saturday evening? I close up shop around five o’clock.”

My heart did an unexpected flip-flop. This felt too much like we were making a date.

“Friday’s fine. I could even make dinner if you like.” I nearly cringed as I said the words.
What was I thinking?

“You cook?” She grinned.

I blanched. “Not really. But I do have a couple of dishes that I keep for occasions when it’s absolutely necessary.”

She laughed again, causing a tingle to flutter up my spine.

“Dinner on Friday it is, then. I can be there by six.”

“Great. Let me give you my address.”

I gave her directions to my house and watched her scribble down everything I said. I heard the tinkle of the bell above the door, and we both turned to see an older gentleman enter the store.

Annie greeted him and excused herself when he asked about a particular type of porcelain dish he was searching for. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye, so instead I took the opportunity to browse around.

It didn’t take me long to decide that I had been limiting myself all these years. Until now, my interest had always been exclusively in antique furniture. I’d been under the misconception that auctions were the best way to find good deals, but I soon realized that I’d been mistaken.

Not only did I find several pieces priced significantly cheaper than I’d expected, but I also found all kinds of treasures that set my adrenaline pumping. Clearly, I’d been missing out on quite a bit.

The first thing that attracted me was the rather large display of Coca-Cola items. There were advertising signs, a large neon clock bearing the Coca-Cola logo, napkin holders, and nearly anything else that I could imagine. But the item that really sent my blood pumping was the full-size Coca-Cola vending machine. It was the kind that I remembered from my childhood, that had a narrow glass door down the left side. Behind the door were round holes that held ten-ounce bottles of soft drink. The price of the soda was ten cents. I laughed and smiled all at once, memories flooding me.

I reached out and turned over the price tag, cringing as I let it fall back in place. Thirty-eight hundred dollars.
Yikes.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” I hadn’t heard Annie sneak up on me.

“It’s beautiful. Pricey, too. Is this a rare item?”

Annie’s head dipped back and forth. “Yes and no. The old vending machines are somewhat rare. But the Coke ones are the easiest to find. This one’s been completely restored. There’s a guy down on the Cape that does a lot of work for me on some things that I find.”

I nodded, standing quietly while I admired the machine. “Do you ever see a 7UP machine? Or Pepsi?”

Her eyes lit up. “Much harder to find. And double the price tag, easily.”

I shook my head, admittedly feeling greedy. I suddenly wanted one, and had to laugh.

“I had no idea you could find stuff like this anymore,” I muttered. “I’m afraid I’ve led a sheltered life.”

Her raised brow told me that she didn’t believe a word of it.

“No, no. I mean that for so many years I barely set foot outside of my office. I was never home, and I never even bothered to buy real furniture until about a year ago. My house is practically empty.”

She looked at me oddly, and I realized I wasn’t making any sense. “A year ago I realized that I was completely burned out and quit my job at the time. It wasn’t until then that I started noticing things like this, and the oak office furniture. Does that make sense?”

“Sure, I suppose.”

“I’m finding so many things that are new to me. I started out with a few pieces here and there. Mostly functional things like furniture and bookshelves. But looking around your shop, I can see that there’s a whole other world of antiques and collectibles that I didn’t even know about.”

My eyes flitted across the narrow room, taking it all in. They focused on an old brass candlestick phone, and I heard myself gasp. “My god, is that real?” I turned and covered the eight steps between Annie and the tall display case behind her.

She laughed when she saw me staring at the phone, just inches from my face now. “It better be. I paid enough for it.”

“Does it work?” I let one index finger trail along the shaft.

“Yes it does, actually. All my phones do.”

“All?” Curious, I let my eyes go back to hers. Her grin was somewhat sheepish.

“You’ve discovered my real weakness. I collect phones. Every one ever made. They only make it to the shop if I already have one in my personal collection. And of course whenever I see one that’s in better shape than the one I already own, I have to buy it.” She seemed embarrassed now. “It really is my weakness.”

I let my eyes wander over her face.

“I’m glad to know you have one.”

She laughed. “Why?”

“Because until now I thought you were almost perfect.” I said the words before I realized how they might sound, and saw the color rush to her face.

She ignored me. “This one is a Western Electric. All original parts. The patent on it was nineteen-twelve.”

Trying to recover, I tried to pay attention to what she was telling me.

“It’s gorgeous,” I muttered, picking up the price tag and flipping it over. Three hundred dollars. I whistled low.

She laughed at me. “Only two-fifty for you.”

I caught the small crinkles around her eyes and felt my heart sink.

“Deal.” The word was out before I could take it back.

“What?”

“Sold. I’ll take it.”

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