Midnight Jewels

drive to his place in the mountains. I get the feeling it's quite a remote location. He's invited me to stay at his place for a couple of days. After that I'll take a leisurely trip through the Rockies and end up back in Denver. I'll fly home from there."
    "Hmm. This sounds interesting. Young or old?"
    "Who?"
    "Your customer," Christina said impatiently. "Is he young or old?"
    "Oh." Mercy wrinkled her nose slightly, thinking. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure. He sounds very charming on the phone. Has a great voice. Cultured, if you know what I mean, but I can't tell how old he is for certain. Maybe somewhere in his forties."
    "A little old for you, but not too far beyond the realm of possibility. A woman has to be flexible these days."
    Mercy smiled. "Whatever his age, he's definitely not too old to spend a fortune on a book. He had the money wired into my account yesterday."
    Christina burst out laughing. "You're too young to let money replace romance in your life."
    "Don't you believe it. Running a small business ages a person in a hurry. The money he paid for
Valley
is going to pay the rent on this shop for several months. What's more, he hinted he might be talked into throwing in a couple of books from his private collection as part of the purchase price. I could turn around and advertise them the same way I did the first one. I'd actually be dealing for real in antiquarian books. That's the classy end of the used book business."
    "I can see it now." Christina narrowed her eyes as if seeing a glowing sign in the distance. "Mercy Pennington, dealer in rare books."
    "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Mercy acknowledged happily. "First editions, private printings, beautiful eighteenth century bindings, copper plate illustrations. Definitely high class."
    "Does that mean I'll have to start shopping somewhere else for my romances and mysteries?"
    Mercy laughed. "Not for quite a while. It takes a great deal of money and a lot of time to get into the rare book business in a big way. Even if everything goes well with the sale of this book I found I'm going to be selling paperbacks for a long time to come. The rare book business will be a sideline. For a lot of dealers it never gets beyond that point."
    "Well, good luck to you. And enjoy the trip to Colorado. Is Dorrie going to handle the shop for you while you're gone?"
    Mercy nodded. "I think she's looking forward to being in charge for a full week. I've never left her alone here for longer than a couple of hours." Actually, that was an understatement. Dorrie Jeffers was positively elated at the prospect of running Pennington's Second Chance by herself. After several months of part-time work, she was eager for the opportunity.
    "That's exactly why you need this vacation. You treat this place as if it were your first born. You're much too devoted to it. You need to get away from it for a while." Christina took the paper sack full of books from the counter and turned to leave. "Have a great trip and drive carefully. Those roads in the Rockies are something else."
    "I'll be careful."
    "And take a good look at your customer. Do yourself a favor. Try to see him as something more than a means of launching your new career in the rare book business. You never know. He might be a sexy recluse just waiting for the right woman to come along and take him out of the mountains."
    "Somehow I doubt that. Why are you always so eager to see me married, Christina? Haven't you been reading those studies that show that single women are happier than married women?"
    Christina grinned. "Us married types can't stand to see you single types so happy and prosperous and independent. Ruins the image of marriage. Besides, misery loves company. Take care, Mercy. I'll see you when you get back." When she opened the door the little bell overhead tinkled merrily.
    Mercy waited until the bell was silent and then walked around the counter to finish straightening some shelves at the back of the shop. The place was empty and it was almost time to close for the day. She started thinking about dinner.
    There was a package of buckwheat pasta in the cupboard at home. And she was almost certain there was still some pesto sauce in the freezer. There was also a bottle of zinfandel resting in the wire wine rack in the corner of her kitchen. The long summer evening stretched out before her and it was, after all, Friday. Friday was always deserving of some sort of celebration, even though she would be opening