Page 13

The bright, black eyes considered Andy for a moment. “Would it be possible for me to take a quick look around, and if I see something I like, you can put it aside for me. I’ll leave a check with you so that you can ship it later.”

Andy hesitated. The grocery bags were starting to weigh a ton. He was tired, depressed, and not in the mood for demanding customers in funny hats. On the other hand, the demanding customer clearly had money and was eager to spend it—and the whole point of running an antiques business was to sell stuff.

He managed to swallow his exasperated sigh. “If you want to wait until I run upstairs and drop this stuff off, I can let you have a quick look around.”

The man beamed. “Excellent! I’ll be right here.”

Andy lugged the groceries upstairs, left them on the kitchen table, and returned downstairs, going through the shop to open the front door.

He held the door wide against the wind, and the man slipped inside, staring about himself curiously.

“It’s very…quaint.”

“Yes,” Andy agreed. “You could say that.”

“What was stolen?”

“Nothing that I know of. I can’t be sure until I finish the inventory.”

And maybe not even then. Uncle C. was not the most meticulous of bookkeepers.

The man picked up a Kirkland snow globe ornament from a box of vintage Christmas decorations. He studied it, then put it back. “Was your uncle badly injured?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. That’s unfortunate. We don’t like to think of this as a dangerous business.”

Andy murmured agreement. So yes. Another dealer. Which in a way made more sense—and in a way madelesssense.

The man moved on down the crowded aisle, occasionally stopping to examine an article more closely, but mostly scanning the disordered shelves of pottery and knickknacks along one wall with the precise focus of a laser beam tagging gun.

“Can I help you look for something?” Andy asked, trailing behind. “Is there something in particular you’re interested in?”

The man said vaguely, “I’ll know if I see it.” He stopped to sift through a box of broken and mismatched junk jewelry.

Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe this guy was just a looky-loo? Andy did his best to contain his impatience as he followed his would-be customer’s leisurely wander through the store.

They came at last to the display counter and register in the back.

Finally, the man’s face lit up with interest. “Snow globes! How charming.”

“Yes.”

This guy did not look like the kind of person who went in for snow globes, but in recent years, snow globes had become widely collectible. No longer were they viewed simply as seasonal ornaments or holiday keepsakes. In fact, certain snow globes went for thousands of dollars.

Perhaps the man read Andy’s thoughts because he said off-handedly, “My niece collects them.” He skirted the red stain in the floor without batting an eyelid, and bent to closer examine the row of snow globes glinting in the case.

“How old is your niece?”

“Young.” He was silent for a long moment, and then he let out a long, disappointed breath. “No. these are jun-not right. Have you any others?”

Most of Uncle C.’s snow globe collection was, maybe notjunk, per se, but not particularly valuable, so there was no reason to take offense. Andy was not offended, but he was increasingly irritated.

“Sorry. I don’t think so,” he said. “Snow globes sell fast this time of year, so everything would be out on the floor.”

“That’s a shame. My niece collects the Disney ones.”

Andy nodded. “Those fetch a nice price. They’re not specific to the holidays, though.”