Priced to Move

Danni raises its impish head.

“Ladies?” I say. “If he thinks I’m cute when I bring you information, don’t you think he’d look cuter still if he’d help Danni sell frilly pink panties or the spandex Capris we just got in?”

Now his jaw sags. His cheeks turn ruddy. The laughter in the studio reaches the outer heights of hysteria. I settle back into my chair and wait for the hilarity to subside.

But then, from somewhere out in the back of beyond, I hear a shriek, and it’s not Rio. Uh-oh. Danni must not have left the premises. I’m gonna have to pay for that zinger. One I probably took too far. Lord? Am I ever going to learn to keep this mouth of mine from leaping before my common sense? “Take note, folks,” Max says, an edge to his voice. “She thinks she’s a comic.” He pauses a moment, forces a grimace that probably is meant as a smile, and then goes on. “While I may not know as much as she does about gemstones, I’m willing to take the challenge. I’m ready to learn. I’m an athlete, and athletes are built for endurance. I can hang in there until the cows come home.”

Is that a dare or is that a dare? I know what it is, but I’m not ready to bite. I shove a loose lock of hair behind my ear. In the background, I hear Miss Mona and Danni arguing. I can also imagine what households across America are thinking, saying.

Time to take the reins of my show again and lead it back to where it should’ve been all along. “So, ladies and gentlemen, what do you think of this gorgeous, soft-green, glowing gem? It is prehnite, a lovely stone in its own right, and not related to jade in any way.”

At my side, Max fidgets in his chair but keeps his mouth shut. The show goes on smoothly for a while. Then . . .

I pick up a stone from the next tray of product. “I have another gorgeous green gem for you today. And while its soft green hue is similar to that of the prehnite, amazonite is a separate gem in its own right.”

“I’ll bet it comes from the Amazon,” the jock pipes in.

“You’d lose that bet. It comes from Colorado, the Minas Gerais state in Brazil, Canada, Italy, and the Ural Mountains in Russia.”

He points at me. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our resident encyclopedia.”

I choose to ignore the comment. “Some think the name comes from a reference to the Amazons, warrior women of Greek mythology. But no amazonite has been found anywhere near the river.”

Max leans back in his chair and stares at me. “Wonder if those Amazons had red hair.”

Not a word, not a word. I owe him the freebie jab, to say the least. “Amazonite is usually cut in cabochon. And sometimes it shows a schiller effect. That’s when you see shimmery, flakelike plates within the stone.”

“Really?” No one can miss the interest in Max’s voice, his eyes—not even me. Then he leans forward, and that excellent aftershave does its thing again. I feel the warmth of his bulk at my side, hear the soft in-and-out of his breath. How can he be so attractive and infuriate me at the same time?

The show, Andie, the show! “Um . . . really. Look at the stone.” I tweeze the amazonite in front of my white velvet drape. “You can see the layers of subtle sparkle inside.”

He draws closer, places a hand on my arm. “That’s pretty neat,” he says, his attention on the stone and not his now-discombobulated cohost.

And with that uncertain truce, in spite of my bizarre response to his nearness, his touch, we go on with the show. Lots of phone calls help me get through the nerve-wracking experience.

It helps to show the spectacular tanzanites we received that morning. We end with a call from my friend Peggy who congratulates me on the show and buys a top-notch tanzie for herself.

When the theme song wafts over our heads, I wait for Hannah’s cue that the camera’s off, and then remove my mike. I stride from the desk without a backward glance.

Focus on how little he knows, not how good he smells. Aftershave’s cheap, so to speak. A good gemologist, not so much.

Max’s stare burns a hole between my shoulder blades.

But I’m a woman on a mission so I just keep going. I have to corner Miss Mona before my oomph goes away, not to mention before Max the Magnificent gets to her. She thinks he’s great.

“Andie, Andie, Andie!” Miss Mona wraps me in a huge hug. “You are incredible. That show was the best, honey, the absolute best.”

“Huh?” She’s still the queen of the “Huh?” factor.

“The phones are ringing off the hook again! The viewers went and bought up every last little thing you showed, and they were all raving over you and Max. They really missed you while we were on our trip!”

“But—”

“You’re a hit, an honest-to-goodness star!”

Oh-kay. Help me out here, will you? I thought I was leaving the gerbil-on-an- exercise-wheel life in the Big Wormy Apple, but here I am living my worst nightmare in Louisville. How did I land in the middle of a mess complete with a dead vendor, bullets, a suspicious cop, a co-worker who hates me because she thinks I stole her job, and a cohost who rattles my world and makes me look like a fool with his lack of knowledge?

And let’s not forget my nutty aunt and the “Huh?” queen. Who, as we speak, is staring at me with questions in her gaze. It’s enough to give a girl a migraine.

“Let’s go somewhere to talk.” I slip my arm through hers. “Just us girls, okay?”

“Sure, honey. We can brainstorm some great new ideas for the show. I know! Maybe we can coordinate your wardrobe with Max’s clothes. Wouldn’t that be sweet—”