Hidden Riches

teeth.
    “But you won’t.” She smiled and held out a hand. “Lots of bark and little bite, that’s you, Skimmerhorn. Let’s get some sleep. We can hash this out in the morning.”
    “There’s nothing to hash. I’m going. You’re not.”
    She let her hand fall away. “You don’t trust me. That’s it, isn’t it?” She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to still the trembling, but her voice thickened and shook even as her eyes filled.
    “It’s not a matter of trust.” He dragged a hand out of his pocket, through his hair. “Don’t take it so personally.”
    “How else can I take it?” The first tear spilled over, ran a lonely trail down her cheek. Her eyes were glistening with more, combined with fragile hurt. “Don’t you understand that I need to do something? That I can’t just sit in the background after me and my home have been violated this way? I can’t bear it, Jed. I can’t bear having you think of me as some helpless victim who only gets in your way.”
    “Stop it.” Her tears weakened him, unmanned him. “Come on, baby, don’t.” He awkwardly lifted a hand to her hair. “I can’t stand that.” Gently he kissed her quivering lips. “I don’t think of you as helpless.”
    “Useless, then,” she said on a hitching sob.
    “No.” He brushed her tears away with his thumbs and was nearly ready to beg. “You’re not trained to do this. If he suspects anything, the whole sting could fall apart before it gets started.”
    She sniffled, pressed her face to his throat. “Do you suspect—?”
    “What?”
    “Do you suspect?” she demanded in a perfectly controlled voice. Leaning back, she grinned at him without a trace of remorse. “Fell for it, didn’t you?” Laughing, she patted his cheek while he stared at her through slitted and infuriated eyes. “Don’t feel too stupid, Skimmerhorn. I told you once I was good.” She lifted her glass again to toast herself. “And I am very, very good. And that was just an impromptu performance.”
    “Maybe I will smack you. You ever turn on tears again like that, I swear I will.”
    “Made you feel like a heel, didn’t I?” She sighed, lustily. “Sometimes I do miss the stage.” Then she shrugged. “But not very often. Be assured, Captain, that our Mr. Finley will see exactly what I want him to see. I’ll play him like an accordion.”
    She could do it. He hated the fact that he was certain she could do it perfectly. “And if I lose my mind enough to consider agreeing to this harebrained idea, you’d do exactly as you were told?”
    “No—but I’d try to do exactly as I was told. It’s just a fishing expedition, Jed.”
    He’d thought so, but he preferred to know his water, and bait his own hook. “I don’t want you hurt.”
    She softened all over, eyes, mouth, heart. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
    “If he hurts you, I’d kill him.”
    Her easy smile vanished. “Don’t put that weight on my shoulders. Okay? It scares me.”
    He lifted her off the table, set her on her feet. “Conroy, I said I didn’t think you were helpless, and that I didn’tthink you were useless, but I never told you what I think you are.”
    “No, you didn’t.” She grimaced, braced.
    “Important,” he said simply, and melted her heart. “Very important.”
     
    By noon the next day, Dora felt at least one part of her life was shifting back into normal gear. The shop was open for business. The first sale warmed her soul so that she gave her customer an impulsive ten percent off. When Lea walked in to help with the afternoon flow, Dora greeted her with a fierce hug.
    Laughing, Lea untangled herself. “What’s all this? Did you win the lottery?”
    “Better. We’re open.”
    Lea peeled off her coat and fluffed her hair. “You never explained why we were closed.”
    “Too complicated,” Dora said breezily. “I needed a day or two of downtime.”
    “That break-in bothered you more than you let on.” Lea’s nod was self-satisfied. “I knew it.”
    “I guess it did. Anyway, we’ve got a couple of browsers, and I just bought those tea cookies from the bakery again—the ones with the chocolate filling.”
    Lea took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to lose the four pounds I gained during the holidays?”
    “Willpower.”
    “Right. Oh, Mom said to ask you about the painting.”
    The cookie box nearly slipped out of Dora’s fingers. “Painting?”
    “Something about you lent her a