Priced to Move

Miss Mona stands and gestures for me to sit in the pleather chair she’s just vacated. “Oh, all right. I’ll tell you. But I just want you to know that I know you’re the perfect woman for the job.”

I sit, but the stiff, hard chair almost spits me back out. “Job?”

“Yes, dear. Job.” Miss Mona squares her shoulders. “Do you remember when I bought a really bad television station a few years ago?”

There go my alarm bells. “Television station? I know nothing about broadcasting.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. “Let me tell you what I’ve gone and done. You do know that television’s all about cable nowadays, don’t you?”

I nod.

“Well, honey, I knew that local news would only keep the station sagging along as it was. So I decided to go into the big time.”

“What do you want me to do with your TV station?”

“Nothing, dear. Just pipe down and hear me out. You’re almost as bad as Livvy here. I invested a good chunk of change—I tell you, it was so much, it had even me scared for a bit.”

“Mm-hmm,” Aunt Weeby says. “The whole thing had me shaking up a storm. And it wasn’t even my retirement that was about to run off with all them infomercial doodads she bought to sell.”

My pulse kicks it up one more notch. At this rate, I’m going to need all kinds of blood pressure meds to stay alive around these two. But I don’t say a word; the ladies are doing a pretty nice job of doing all the talking.

Miss Mona crosses her arms. “I reckon you can tell by now I didn’t lose my shirt, and now I own a cable TV shopping network.”

I sproing out of my chair. “You what?”

“You heard me. I own the Shop-Til-U-Drop Network.”

My eyes goggle. “No way. You mean you are the brains and bucks behind the ‘All women, for women, by women’ channel?”

“So you’ve seen us.”

Fists on hips, I tap my right toe. “They do have TV in New York, you know. Of course, I’ve seen you. I’ve been known to channel surf every once in a while.”

“But you haven’t stopped to shop.”

“Oh, I’ve stopped. But I haven’t shopped. I hardly ever cook, so I don’t need pots and pans. And clothes? Well, as tall as I am, I really need to try things on. If I’m not careful, five foot ten means lots of floodwater pants.”

“You do know we have a 100 percent money-back rule, no questions asked, don’t you?”

“I remember hearing something like that.”

“And you still didn’t buy anything. Can you tell me why?” “I just told you. I don’t need a whole lot, and although I did like the clothes I saw, it’s the sizing thing that nails me every time. I can’t shop catalogs either, if that makes you feel better.”

“We offer lots more than pots and pans and clothes.”

Aunt Weeby gives a most unladylike snort. “Mona! Let the girl be. Isn’t there something more important you wanted to talk to her about?”

“Oh. Well, yes. I’m just so passionate about my business. You do understand, don’t you, Andie? That’s how you feel about your gemstones, right?”

“Totally.”

“I knew you’d understand. And that’s why you’re my girl.” This is getting scary. “I wouldn’t be so sure, Miss Mona. What is it you want?”

“Well, honey . . . This, to me, looks like the Lord’s just put before me the perfect opportunity to expand my network’s gem and jewelry catalog. I want you to be my new jewelry and gemstone show host.”

I can’t possibly have heard her right. She hasn’t just put bling-bling, me, and a TV show together in the same sentence. Has she?

Her expectant look says otherwise.

When I finally speak, I rival a bullfrog. “You want me to be your what?”

“You heard me,” Miss Mona says, her gaze clear and direct.

So I didn’t hallucinate it. Miss Mona is as nutty as I’ve always thought. As nutty as the nutcase on the bed not two steps away from her, a matching goofy grin on her face.

“But I know nothing about TV shows or anything like that.”

“True, and that’s where I come in,” Miss Mona says. “What you do know all about, and what I do need, is a hot-shot gemologist. And there’s none better than you.”

“Just think, Andie.” Aunt Weeby clasps her hands at chest height. “You’re gonna get to teach your viewers all about your bing-bing—”

“Bling-bling.” My voice nearly wimps out on me this time. Aunt Weeby chuckles. “That’s it! Anyway, you’ll be teaching all you know about gemstones, and where they come from, and all that. Isn’t that just plumb wonderful?”