The Boggart Read Online Free Page A

of six chandeliers in a corner of the ceiling.
    A tall thin man with a lot of dark hair was bent over a table, reading its price tag. Emily took Jessup’s hand. It was a signal; at once they began speaking in unison.
    â€œGood evening.”
    The tall man straightened abruptly. “Good evening,” he said. He wore a charcoal-grey business suit, very well cut, and a tie.
    â€œWelcome to Old Stuff,” said Emily and Jessup together.
    â€œA Greek chorus,” said the tall man coolly. “How very suitable for an antiques shop.”
    Emily sensed that Jessup was about to depart from the script, so she squeezed his hand firmly and they went on, perfectly synchronized. “Please let us know if we can answer any questions.”
    The man’s dark brows drew together, and Emily took a sudden dislike to him. No sense of humor , she thought.
    â€œNot a question — a request,” he said shortly. “Go get your mother.”
    Before Emily could move, Jessup had swung away from her and opened the door to the back of the house. “Mom!” he called in his clear light voice. “There’s a bad-tempered man here to see you.”
    Maggie came warily into the shop and found the dark-haired man and her children eyeing each other in chilly silence. He said when he saw her, “This seems an excellent way to lose a good customer.”
    Maggie smiled at him. “I do hope you’re a good customer. And that we shan’t lose you.”
    The man pulled a folded newspaper from his jacket pocket. “You advertised a rolltop desk?”
    Emily’s spirits fell. She had fallen in love with the rolltop desk, which had been in the shop for four weeks now. She had been hoping nobody would buy it, so that her mother might be persuaded to give it to her as a Christmas present.
    â€œOver here,” said her treacherous mother, and led the tall man to Emily’s desk. He rolled the deliciously smooth-moving top up and down, poked at the engaging array of little compartments inside, got down on his hands and knees (after first spreading his newspaper fastidiously on the floor) and peered up at the bottom of the desk.
    â€œFifteen hundred dollars,” Maggie said. “It’s Victorian — in excellent condition.”
    Emily felt more hopeful. Surely no one would pay that much.
    â€œI’ll give you a thousand,” said the tall man.
    â€œTwelve hundred,” Maggie said.
    â€œDone!” he said quickly. He stood up. “Will you take a check?”
    Emily thought: Say no. Don’t trust him. Say no .
    â€œOf course,” said her mother happily.
    Disgusted, Emily slipped away through the pass door and found Jessup at her side.
    â€œWhat a creep!” he said.
    Emily made a loud, graphic vomiting sound.
    Their father and Aunt Jen were sitting together on the back steps finishing the fried rice. Robert looked up, pained. “Please!” he said.
    â€œWell, he’s an awful man. And Mom’s just sold him that pretty desk.”
    â€œOh good!” said Aunt Jen. “How much did she get out of him?”
    â€œTwelve hundred dollars.”
    â€œTerrific!”
    Emily said with dignity, “I think it’s disgusting to have to be sweet and gushy to creepy people just so you can sell them something.”
    â€œOh darling,” said her father sadly “it’s the way of the world. Louise and I will be gushy to almost anyone if they’ll give us money to keep the Playhouse alive.”
    â€œWell, I’m not going to spend my life doing that.”
    â€œShe wants to be an environmental lawyer, at present,” Robert said to Aunt Jen. “I’m going to come listen when she has to persuade some billionaire to finance her saving the whales.”
    Maggie appeared on the steps, waving a check. “He wasn’t so bad,” she said to her children. “He’s a psychiatrist, Dr. William Stigmore. Has an