Pearl of Great Price Read Free Page A

anything in particular, ma’am?” A breathy weariness stole the sincerity from my tone. Hopefully the woman wouldn’t notice.
    “Just browsing.” She folded her sunglasses and dropped them into a butterfly-appliquéd tote draped across a bronzed forearm. Hmmm, tennis player? Or just hours beside her backyard pool paging through the latest issue of Vogue ? Although, considering all the hype about skin cancer these days, a tan like that probably came straight from a spray-on tanning salon. With a hefty price tag to boot.
    Considering how my day had gone so far, I didn’t mind at all the distraction our new customer provided. I set my mind to pondering what exactly would prompt a snooty rich lady to bother stopping at our humble establishment. Probably just an interesting off-road diversion, which was how most of our non-local customers found us. It didn’t take much imagination to picture the lady arriving at her Little Rock mansion later and telling her husband, “Oh, dahling , I came upon the quaintest resale shop on my way home from high tea with the racing commissioners at Oaklawn.”
    Sneezy, our shop cat, wandered over from wherever he’d been snoozing all day and wound himself around the legs of my barstool. With a plaintive meow, he hopped on the counter and snuggled up to the cash register. I scratched him behind one notched ear. “Oh, well, she isn’t the first rich lady to cross our threshold just browsing , and she won’t be the last.”
    I decided to let her wander on her own—that’s often the best approach for those aloof types. She certainly was attractive, trendy, obviously loaded. And tall. Which made me wonder if she might be the niece Mrs. Nelson told me about. Not much resemblance otherwise, but just like sweet Mrs. Nelson, this lady carried herself with the kind of poise and confidence I only dreamed about. I imagined men tripping over themselves to get a nod or smile from beneath her magnificent mane of thick, mahogany-colored hair. She didn’t look the type to be very free with her smiles, though.
    And she definitely didn’t look like she belonged in a flea market.
    Giving Sneezy a tickle behind his ears, I glanced down the aisle to see what Ms. Moneybags was up to. She looked away almost too quickly—had she been sizing me up, too?
    More likely just making sure the mop-haired, hick-town flea market clerk wasn’t stalking her, ready to lay on a cheesy sales pitch if she so much as looked sideways at an item.
    Grandpa came up beside me, broom and dustpan in hand. The worry lines around his eyes had eased some. I hoped it was a good sign. “New customer, eh? You keeping an eye on her?”
    Kind of a mutual admiration society, I didn’t say. “Said she’s just browsing.”
    “Why don’t you show her the silver coffee service LeRoy just got in? First customer I’ve seen in a while who looks like she could afford it.” He nudged me off my barstool and moved it so he could sweep around me.
    “You just swept here before lunch, Grandpa. I’m not that messy,” I said, then cringed when he swept up a couple of stray Lincolns having a tête-à-tête under the counter.
    He slapped the pennies into my palm. “What else is an old man supposed to do when business is slow?”
    In other words, Julie Pearl, quit ruminating and get to work.
    “So you think Ms. Moneybags is the silver tea service type? Shoot, I’d be happy to sell her an heirloom china teacup to match her set of genuine Haviland from France.”
    “Now, Julie—”
    “Although she’d do a far sight better down the road at Maudine’s Antiques. Or the Park Plaza Mall in Little Rock.” I was on a roll and couldn’t stop myself. “Actually, she just oughta hop on her Lear jet and zip across the state line to Dallas. I hear they’ve got some fancy-schmancy stores at the Galleria.”
    “That’s quite enough, young lady.” Grandpa leveled his index finger at my nose. “Remember what James has to say about the tongue. It’s