From the Heart

don’t you think?”
    He thought of the standard police-issue revolver hidden in his bedroom. “When it’s possible. How’d you get started?”
    “I was lucky enough to have the funds to back me up the first year while I gathered stock and renovated this place.” The kettle shrilled, then sputtered when she switched off the heat. “Even with that, it was hard enough. Setting up books, getting licenses, learning about taxes.” She wrinkled her nose as she brought her plate and cup to the table. “But that’s anecessary part of the whole. With that, the traveling, and the selling, the first couple of years were killers.” She bit into her sandwich. “I loved it.”
    She would have, he mused. He could sense the pent-up energy even as she sat there calmly drinking tea. “David Ryce work for you long?”
    “About a year and a half. He was at that undecided point of his life I suppose we all go through when we’ve finished being teenagers but haven’t quite grasped adulthood.” She smiled across the table at Slade. “Do you know what I mean?”
    “More or less.”
    “You probably less than most,” she commented easily. “As it turned out, he resented the offer of a job and the fact that he needed one. David and I grew up together. There’s nothing harder on the ego than having big sister give you a break.” She sighed a bit, remembering his moodiness, his grudging acceptance, his initial lack of interest. “Anyway, within six months he stopped being resentful and became indispensable. He’s very quick, particularly with figures. David considers the books his province now. And he’s better with them than the selling angle.”
    “Oh?”
    Her eyes danced. “He isn’t always . . . diplomatic with customers. He’s much better with bookkeeping and inventory. Michael and I can handle the buying and selling.”
    “Michael.” Before he drank again, Slade repeated the name as though it meant nothing.
    “Michael does almost all my buying, all the imports at any rate.”
    “You don’t buy the stock yourself?”
    “Not from overseas, not anymore.” Jessica toyed with the last half of her sandwich. “If I’d tried to keep up with it, I wouldn’t have been able to keep the shop open year round. Watching out for estate sales and auctions just in the New England area takes me away from the shop enough as it is. And Michael . . . Michael has a real genius for finding gems.”
    He wondered if her analogy was fact. Was Michael Adams shipping gems as well as Hepplewhites across the Atlantic?
    “Michael’s been handling that part of the business for nearly three years,” Jessica went on. “And he’s not only a good buyer, but a terrific salesman. Particularly with my female clientele.” She laughed as she lifted her cup. “He’s very smooth—both looks and manner.”
    Slade noted the affection in her voice and speculated. Just how much was between owner and buyer? he wondered. If Adams was involved in smuggling, and Jessica’s lover . . . His thoughts trailed off as he looked down at her hands. She wore a thin, twisted band of gold on her right hand and a star-shaped group of opals on her left. The sun hit the stones, shooting little flames of red into the delicate blue. It suited her, he thought, taking another swig of beer.
    “In any case, I’ve gotten spoiled.” Jessica stretched her shoulders with a sigh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to run the shop alone. I’ll be glad to have both Michael and David back next week. I might even take Uncle Charlie up on his invitation.”
    “Uncle Charlie?”
    Her cup paused halfway to her lips. “Uncle Charlie,” Jessica repeated, puzzled. “He sent you.”
    Slade gave a quick silent oath as he shrugged. “The commissioner,” he said blandly. “I don’t think of him as Uncle Charlie.”
    “The commissioner’s awfully formal.” Still frowning at him, Jessica set down her cup.
    She’s not a fool, Slade concluded as he swung an arm over the back of his chair. “I always call him that. Habit. Don’t you like to travel?” He changed the subject neatly, adding a quick, disarming smile. “I’d think the buying end would be half the fun.”
    “It can be. It can also be a giant headache. Airports and auctions and customs.” The line between her brows vanished. “I have been thinking about combining a business and pleasure trip next spring. I want to visit my mother and her husband in France.”
    “Your mother