Hidden Riches

snarl.
    “I’m not cranky,” Dora snapped. “I’m busy.” She was currently boxing up a four-piece place setting of Fire-King Dinnerware, honeysuckle pattern. “People ought to be shot for trying to cram their shopping into the last two days before Christmas. Do you realize I have to take Terri off the floor and have her deliver this across town this afternoon?”
    “You could have told the customer to come back in for it.”
    “And I might have lost the sale,” Dora tossed back. “I’ve had these damn dishes for three years. I’m lucky to have palmed them off on anyone.”
    “Now I know something’s wrong.” Lea crossed her arms. “Spill it.”
    “Nothing’s wrong.” Except that she hadn’t been able to sleep. And there was no way, absolutely no way she was going to admit that she’d let one quick kiss tie her up into knots. “I’ve just got too much to do and not enough time to do it.”
    “But you like that, Dora,” Lea pointed out.
    “I’ve changed.” Dora wrapped the last cup in newspaper. “Where’s that stupid packing tape?” She turned, then stumbled back against the desk when she spotted Jed at the base of the stairs.
    “Sorry.” But he didn’t look it. “I came down to see if you still wanted me to fix that banister.”
    “Banister? Oh . . . oh, well.” She hated being flustered. The only thing she hated more was being wrong. “You have to get wood or something?”
    “Or something.” He looked over when Lea firmly cleared her throat.
    “Oh, Lea, this is Jed Skimmerhorn, the new tenant. Jed, my sister, Lea.”
    “Nice to meet you.” Lea extended a hand. “I hope you’re settling in all right.”
    “Not much to settle. Do you want the banister fixed or not?”
    “Yes, I suppose. If you’re not too busy.” Dora found the packing tape and kept herself occupied by sealing the carton. When the idea dawned, she went with it. “Actually, you could help me out. You’ve got a car, right? The Thunderbird?”
    “So?”
    “I have a delivery—in fact, I have three of them. I really can’t spare my assistant.”
    Jed hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “You want me to make deliveries?”
    “If it wouldn’t be a problem. You’d keep track of your gas and mileage.” She offered him a sunny smile. “Youmight even cop a couple of tips.”
    He could have told her to go to hell. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t. “How can I resist?” He eyed, with vague dislike, the box she was sealing. “Where to?”
    “It’s all written down. Those are the other two right there.” She nodded toward the corner of the room. “You can carry them out through the side door to your car.”
    Saying nothing, Jed hefted the first box and disappeared outside.
    “ That’s the new tenant?” Lea whispered. Possibilities were already racing through her mind as she hurried to the door to peek through. “Who is he? What does he do?”
    “I just told you who he is. His name’s Skimmerhorn.”
    “You know what I mean.” She watched Jed muscle the box into the backseat of the T-Bird, then quickly stepped back across the room. “He’s coming back.”
    “I hope so,” Dora said dryly. “He’s only got one of the boxes.” She lifted the second one herself and passed it to Jed when he came to the door. “They’re fragile,” she told him, and got a grunt in response.
    “Did you see his shoulders?” Lea hissed. “John doesn’t have shoulders like that in my wildest fantasies.”
    “Ophelia Conroy Bradshaw, shame on you. John’s a wonderful guy.”
    “I know that. I’m nuts about him, but he doesn’t have any shoulders. I mean, he’s got them, of course, but they’re just kind of bone and . . . God!” After studying the way Jed’s Levis stretched when he leaned over the trunk of his car, she patted her heart and grinned. “It’s always reassuring to know the attraction cells still operate. So what’s he do?”
    “About what?”
    “About . . . the invoices,” she said quickly. “Don’t forget to give Mr. Skimmerhorn the invoices, Dora.” She picked them up herself and handed them over to Jed as he stepped in to pick up the last box.
    “Thanks.” He gave Lea an odd look, wary of the gleam in her eye. “You want me to pick up that lumber, or what?”
    “Lumber? Oh, the banister,” Dora remembered. “Sure, go ahead. You can slip the bill under my door if I’m not around.”
    He couldn’t resist. He knew he should, but he couldn’t. “Another