Antiques Knock-Off Read Online Free Page A

“unlike Mrs. Vancamp,
we
have the real
thing!”
    She opened our parcel, removed the bubble-pack, and placed the mantel clock on the counter.
    Timmons moved his third eye down over his right one, and examined our find, carefully turning it over, then checked the inner workings.
    Finally, he said with some excitement, “Yes, you have! And it’s in
beautiful
condition! Do you mind telling me where you got it?”
    Mother did. In excruciating detail.
    “Well, it’s a lucky find,” Timmons granted. “I know you girls are really into antiques, and this would make a wonderful addition to your collection, really would make a fine showpiece for your home. What are you going to do with it?”
    “I think we’ll probably hang on to it,” I said, not wanting to tip our hand. “Providing you can make it keep time. And we’ll need an estimate, first.”
    Timmons was about to respond when the pebble-glass door opened, then banged shut with such force that Mother and I turned around, startled.
    Connie Grimes was as taken aback to see us as we were her. The middle-aged, mousy-haired matron wore a voluminous blue linen tent dress that tried but failed to hide her heft, a “little” number I recognized from Eileen Fisher’s new spring line. Quickly, the woman’s surprised expression turned to disdain.
    “Well,” she said with a sneer, “I’d ask what you were doing here, Vivian, but I’d imagine you’re an expert on
cuckoo
clocks.”
    I moved toward her, Sushi growling in her pouch. “Leave my mother alone.”
    Her eyes flared. “Stay away from me, and the mongrel, too!”
    “‘And your little dog, too!’”
I mocked.
    Her nostrils flared. “That restraining order is still in effect, remember!”
    “Maybe the judge would be interested in seeing some interesting notes Mother, Peggy Sue, and I have been receiving. Maybe he’d like to hear all about our poisonedpen pal.”
    Connie’s face, which had once been pretty but now wore fat in random globs, like clay misplaced by a careless sculptor, tightened into a nasty smile. “There’s no law against sending unsigned letters.”
    “There’s a law against libel.”
    “And
truth
is the best defense, isn’t it? Why don’t you two run along? I have some private business to discuss with Mr. Timmons. Surely there’s something you and your mother could do together, to pass a few minutes—or should I say
grandmother?”
    I had never seen Mother move so quickly—except maybe when she had spotted the Acklin clock—and before I could do anything except get out of her path, she’d flown at Connie like an oversized avenging bird, pushing the woman back against the wall of artifacts where Connie got tangled up in the antique embalming hoses.
    Sushi squirmed out of the baby carrier, leaping from my chest to the floor, and—blindness be damned—rushed to protect Mother by sinking her sharp little teeth into Connie—well, not Connie, but her new linen dress, making ripping tears … because Soosh really knew how to hurt a girl.
    Ben Timmons rushed around the counter to break up the altercation, which he accomplished by latching on to Mother’s arms and pulling her away from Connie.
    Casting off the black hoses like deadly asps, the middle-aged Medusa screamed at Mother, “You’re going to pay
dearly
for that, you crazy old crone!” To Timmons, Connie shrilled, “Call the police!
Right now!
You saw what happened—that nutcase
attacked
me! It’s assault and battery!
Do
it!”
    To which Timmons replied, “I’m afraid, Mrs. Grimes, what I saw was you tripping and falling against the wall.”
    Connie’s face reddened further. “So
that’s
how it’s going to be? You’re going to stick up for
them,
after cheating
me?
Well, you won’t get away with it! I’m going straight to my lawyer….”
    She whirled and tromped out, slamming the door again, rattling the glass.
    Mother was smoothing out her sleeves where Timmons had gripped her, gathering the shreds of her