Shadows at the Spring Show Read Online Free

rows of tables covered with all sorts of old paper and ephemera.
    Paper shows were a world of their own. Antiquarian-book shows tended to be very serious, with high-priced merchandise. Antiques shows, although they might attract a few print or book dealers, featured furniture, glass, crystal, and all manner of household goods, often including vintage fashions and jewelry. Most print dealers did antiques shows; only a few did paper shows. Paper shows were buying grounds for print dealers.
    Maggie walked slowly up the first aisle. The majority of paper dealers were men, and they made few attempts to dress up their booths in any way. Magazines, postcards, advertisements, books, instruction brochures, fruit-crate labels were all displayed (or piled) on cafeteria tables. Some dealers had brought wire “walls” on which to hang their merchandise, or folding bookcases to display books, but few had bothered with the niceties required at antiques shows—such as covering the tables with floor-length drapes. A paper show looked to the uninitiated like a flea market. To the collectors and dealers who shopped there, it was an adventure. You never knew what you might find on those cluttered tables.
    Maggie passed five postcard dealers displaying their wares in long, low, marked boxes (“New Jersey Towns A–M,” “Halloween,” “Santa Claus,” “Automobiles”). Postcards weren’t of interest to her, but several people seated in front of the tables of postcards were intensely going through those boxes. They might be looking for cards picturing specific places, or printed by specific manufacturers, or on specific subjects. Postcards were collectibles many people could afford, and they offered an almost unending selection of variables to specialize in.
    The next booth belonged to antiquarian-book dealer Joe Cousins. “Joe! How are you?” Maggie said. “What are you doing here? I hadn’t seen you in a year, and then I saw you at Allentown, and here you are again! I’m looking forward to seeing you at the OWOC show next week.”
    “Hi, Maggie.” Joe grinned as he pushed a shock of thick brown hair back from his forehead. A year ago he’d inherited a more diverse art and antiques business, but after a few forays into the world of Art Deco and furniture he’d sold off the new business and was back to concentrating on the books he loved. Although now he could choose between staying at his home in Connecticut or his loft in New York City, his increased financial assets hadn’t changed his appearance. Today he was wearing his usual slightly baggy corduroy pants and a shirt that could have used ironing. “Don’t think I have anything you’d be interested in. You cleaned me out in Allentown.”
    “It’s good to see you anyway.”
    “This is a new show, so I thought I’d give it a try. Two new shows in New Jersey in two weeks is a little difficult. But”—Joe’s voice lowered—“I have a new friend, who lives out here. And he gets tired of driving to Connecticut or New York to see me.”
    “Congratulations,” said Maggie. “And I’m really glad you’re doing the OWOC show. You’ll be the only antiquarian-book dealer there. Although I can’t promise dealers won’t bring books to decorate their booths.” Joe was one of the few book dealers who occasionally did antiques shows. He had a greatinventory of both nineteenth-century leather-bound sets and twentieth-century first editions.
    “That’s never a problem,” said Joe as he stepped aside to let a young man in jeans enter his booth. “By the way, I’m cleaning out an estate library Monday and Tuesday. If I see anything you might be interested in, I’ll bring it to the OWOC show.”
    “Wonderful,” said Maggie. “See you on Friday for setup!”
    Joe knew exactly what sort of eighteenth- or early-nineteenth-century natural history books Maggie was looking for: breakers, whose bindings were broken, which decreased or eliminated their value to a book dealer