Hidden Riches Read Free Page A

Conroy.” She held out a hand and had it enveloped in a brief arthritic grip. “I have a shop in Philadelphia.”
    “Thought you were a pro.” Pleased, he winked. “Noticed you right off. Don’t believe I’ve seen you at one of Porter’s auctions before.”
    “No, I’ve never been able to make it. Actually, this trip was an impulse. I dragged my sister along. Lea, Tom Ashworth.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    “My pleasure.” Ashworth patted Lea’s chilled hand. “Never does warm up in here this time of year. Guess Porter figures the bidding’ll heat things up some.”
    “I hope he’s right.” Lea’s toes felt frozen inside her suede boots. “Have you been in business long, Mr. Ashworth?”
    “Nigh onto forty years. The wife got us started, crocheting doilies and scarves and what-all and selling them. Added some trinkets and worked out of the garage.” He took a corncob pipe from his pocket and clamped it between his teeth. “Nineteen sixty-three we had more stock than we could handle and rented us a shop in town. Worked side by side till she passed on in the spring of eighty-six. Now I got me a grandson working with me. Got a lot of fancy ideas, but he’s a good boy.”
    “Family businesses are the best,” Dora said. “Lea’s just started working part-time at the shop.”
    “Lord knows why.” Lea dipped her chilly hands into her coat pockets. “I don’t know anything about antiques or collectibles.”
    “You just have to figure out what people want,” Ashworth told her, and flicked a thumbnail over a wooden match to light it. “And how much they’ll pay for it,” he added before he puffed the pipe into life.
    “Exactly.” Delighted with him, Dora hooked a hand through his arm. “It looks like we’re getting started. Why don’t we go find some seats?”
    Ashworth offered Lea his other arm and, feeling like the cock of the walk, escorted the women to chairs near the front row.
    Dora pulled out her notebook and prepared to play her favorite role.
    The bidding was low, but certainly energetic. Voices bounced off the high ceiling as the lots were announced. But it was the murmuring crowd that fired Dora’s blood. There were bargains to be had here, and she was determined to grab her share.
    She outbid a thin, waiflike woman with a pinched mouth for the cherrywood vanity, snapped up the lot that included the creamer/slipper for a song and competed briskly with Ashworth for a set of crystal saltcellars.
    “Got me,” he said when Dora topped his bid yet again. “You’re liable to get a bit more for them up north.”
    “I’ve got a customer who collects,” Dora told him. And who would pay double the purchase price, she thought.
    “That so?” Ashworth leaned closer as the bidding began on the next lot. “I’ve got a set of six at the shop. Cobalt and silver.”
    “Really?”
    “You got time, you drop on by after this and take a look.”
    “I might just do that. Lea, you bid on the Depression glass.”
    “Me?” Horror in her eyes, Lea gaped at her sister.
    “Sure. Get your feet wet.” Grinning, Dora tilted her head toward Ashworth’s. “Watch this.”
    As Dora expected, Lea started out with hesitant bids that barely carried to the auctioneer. Then she began to inch forward in her seat. Her eyes glazed over. By the time the lot was sold, she was snapping out her bid like a drill sergeant commanding recruits.
    “Isn’t she great?” All pride, Dora swung an arm over Lea’s shoulders to squeeze. “She was always a quick study. It’s the Conroy blood.”
    “I bought all of it.” Lea pressed a hand to her speeding heart. “Oh God, I bought all of it. Why didn’t you stop me?”
    “When you were having such a good time?”
    “But—but—” As the adrenaline drained, Lea slumped in her chair. “That was hundreds of dollars. Hundreds.”
    “Well spent, too. Now, here we go.” Spotting the abstract painting, Dora rubbed her hands together. “Mine,” she said