Hidden Riches

things for too long not to be drawn to them. However much he claimed that his surroundings didn’t matter, he would have been quietly miserable in some glossy condo or soulless apartment complex.
    He imagined the old building had been converted into shop and apartments sometime in the thirties. It had retained its lofty ceilings and spacious rooms, the working fireplace and slim, tall windows. The floors, a random-width oak, had been highly polished for the new tenant.
    The trim was walnut and uncarved, the walls a creamy ivory. The old man had assured Jed they could be painted to suit his tastes, but home decorating was the last thing on Jed’s mind. He would take the rooms precisely as they were.
    He unearthed a bottle of Jameson, three-quarters full. He studied it a moment, then set it on the table. He was shoving packing paper aside in search of a glass when he heard noises. His hands froze, his body braced.
    Tilting his head, he turned, trying to locate the source of the sound. He’d thought he’d heard bells, a tingling echo. And now laughter, a smoky drift of it, seductive and female.
    His eyes turned to the brass, open-work floor vent near the fireplace. The sounds floated up through it, some vague, some clear enough that he could hear individual words if he chose to listen.
    There was some sort of antique or curio shop beneath the apartment. It had been closed for the last couple of days, but it was apparently open for business now.
    Jed went back to his search for a glass and tuned out the sounds from below.
     
    “I really do appreciate your meeting us here, John.” Dora set a newly acquired globe lamp beside the antique cash register.
    “No problem.” He huffed a bit as he carted another crate into the overflowing storeroom. He was a tall man with a skinny frame that refused to fill out, an honest face that might have been homely but for the pale, shy eyes that peered at the world from behind thick lenses.
    He sold Oldsmobiles in Landsdowne and had been named Salesman of the Year two years running using a low-key, almost apologetic approach that came naturally to him and charmed the customers.
    Now he smiled at Dora and shoved his dark-framed glasses back up his nose. “How did you manage to buy so much in such a short time?”
    “Experience.” She had to rise on her toes to kiss John’s cheek, then she bent and scooped up her younger nephew, Michael. “Hey, frog face, did you miss me?”
    “Nuh-uh.” But he grinned and wrapped his pudgy arms around her neck.
    Lea turned to keep an eagle eye on her two other children. “Richie, hands in your pockets. Missy, no pirouetting in the shop.”
    “But, Mom . . .”
    “Ah.” Lea sighed, smiled. “I’m home.” She held out her arms for Michael. “Dora, do you need any more help?”
    “No, I can handle it from here. Thanks again.”
    “If you’re sure.” Dubiously, Lea glanced around the shop. It was a mystery to her how her sister could function in the clutter she constantly surrounded herself with. They had grown up in chaos, with every day dawning with a new drama or comedy. For Lea, the only way to remain sane as an adult was structure. “I really could come in tomorrow.”
    “No. It’s your day off, and I’m counting on scarfing down my share of those cookies you’ll be baking.” As she herded her family toward the door, Dora slipped a pound bag of M&M’s to her niece. “Share,” she ordered under her breath. “And don’t tell your mom where you got them.” She ruffled Richie’s hair. “Scram, creep.”
    He grinned, showing the wide gap of his missing two front teeth. “Burglars might come tonight and rob you blind.” Reaching out, he toyed with the long dangle of citrine and amethyst that swung at her ear. “If I spent the night, I’d shoot them for you.”
    “Why, thank you, Richie,” Dora said in serious tones. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. But I’ll just have to shoot my own burglars tonight.” She nudged her family outside, then began to lock up immediately, knowing that Lea would wait until she had turned every lock and engaged the security alarm.
    Alone, she turned and took a deep breath. There was the scent of apple and pine from the potpourri set all around the shop. It was good to be home, she thought, and lifted the box that contained the new acquisitions she’d decided to take to her apartment upstairs.
    She moved through the storeroom to unlock the door that led to the inside