Will’s eyes narrowed as he visualized the scene. “Yeah. She was the only one who answered my ad. She got there at five on the dot and by five-thirty I had hired her. All I need is someone who can spell and use a computer for a few hours a week. Of course, she was only there for one morning and then Cam Bradshaw called her with the bad news. Guess I’ll have to find someone else now.”
Stevie paused in the middle of slathering A.1. sauce on his steak. “Dee really did get a job?”
“That surprises you?” I asked at the same time that Dwight said, “You know her?”
“Sure. We graduated from high school together. And yeah, I’m surprised that she got a job.”
“Why? She’s not in school any more,” said Dwight.
Jane Ann made a face. “She was just yanking her mother’s chain.”
“By getting a job?”
“She told us that nobody in her mom’s family had ever gone to college. In fact, Mrs. Bradshaw was the first to finish high school even if it was with a GED, so it was real important to her for Dee to graduate.” Jane Ann served herself some salad made with the greens Cletus had given me and passed the bowl along to Amy. “But Dee wanted a new car, and when Mrs. Bradshaw wouldn’t buy her one, she threatened to quit school and get a job so she could have some decent wheels.”
“She’s a spoiled slacker,” Stevie said flatly. “She’s never had to do a lick of work, she got a big allowance, and she had a car of her own that ran just fine. Remember last spring, when my car was in the shop? She gave me a ride home to pick it up and all she could do was bitch about how her mother gave a worthless, good-for-nothing cousin her practically new Toyota and then bought herself another new one while Dee had to keep driving the Audi she’d had in high school.”
“She thought her mother would come around with a new car to keep her in school. But Dee’ll go back. You’ll see,” Jane Ann said cynically. She shook her head at the offer of garlic bread. “In fact, she’ll probably stay on for two masters and a PhD so that she doesn’t have to punch a time clock for another five years.”
After supper, Stevie and Jane Ann had other plans for the evening. They offered to drop off a pair of sleepy children on the way. Cal’s eyelids were drooping, too, and he only offered a pro forma objection when Dwight scooped him up and carried him to his own bed. He was probably already asleep by the time Dwight came back to join us.
Amy poured coffee and I spooned warm peach cobbler into dessert dishes, then topped each with a dab of vanilla ice cream. Dwight and Will dug in as enthusiastically as if I had peeled the peaches myself and made the flaky crust from scratch.
Amy enjoyed hers, too, but couldn’t resist asking me what brand of piecrust I bought.
“Sh-hhh,” I told her. “Don’t spoil the illusion.”
Will grinned. “She just wants to know because this crust tastes better than what she buys.”
“Bastard,” Amy said amiably.
“If you can’t tell it from the real thing—” I hesitated one second too long.
“What?” said Dwight. He really does know me way too well at times.
“When you go in to appraise an estate, Will, do you ever do jewelry?”
He took another bite of cobbler and shook his head. “Not usually. Most people either want to keep it or else get a jeweler to do the appraisal. And more likely than not, they have an inflated sense of what it’s worth. Why?”
“Just wondering. What about costume jewelry?”
He laughed. “There it’s just the opposite. Most people think it’s worth less than it is because it’s fake. They see Bakelite and think ‘plastic.’ Well let me tell you something, honey. An authentic vintage Bakelite bracelet can fetch anything from two hundred to two thousand dollars depending on its condition and rarity.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Don’t believe me, go check out eBay.”
“What about rhinestones?”
“Again, it depends on the quality and whether the piece is signed by a collectible name.”
He looked at me speculatively over the rim of his coffee cup. “C’mon, Deb’rah. You’re not just wondering. You happen onto a nice find of old costume stuff?”
I shook my head.
The three of them were now too curious to let it drop.
“All right,” I said finally, “but you’ve got to promise not to say anything to the rest of the family about this. I’m probably making mountains out of what’s nothing more than an anthill and I want y’all’s word on it, okay?”
They all promised, so then I told them about my encounter with Daddy in that consignment shop yesterday, about the flash and sparkle of an earring, about the words I thought I’d heard that clerk with the jeweler’s magnifying eyepiece say, and how Daddy had sent me on my way so brusquely.
Will frowned. “You’re sure he used a loupe?”
“And put it in his pocket as soon as I walked up—the instant that Daddy palmed the earring.”
“Tall thin guy? Had his glasses pushed up on his forehead? Starting to go bald in front?”
I nodded.
“Then he had to be looking at something really interesting if he was using his loupe. I know him. Dave Carter. Good guy. Why don’t I drop by and see him Monday?”
“Only if you think he won’t call Daddy the minute you’re out of the store,” I said. “You know how mad he can
