Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [31]
“Perfect. I heard there’s a small offering of Hull pottery someplace. I want to check that out.”
Amanda wandered off to the opposite side of the tent, where a vast quantity of art pottery sat on several sturdy wooden tables. There was a fabulous selection of Roseville, which explained the presence of several of the dealers from New York she’d worked with on many occasions. She knew there’d be no point in wasting her time on the Roseville, which was certain to fetch top prices. Though she often bought at smaller sales like this for the express purpose of reselling, the reputation of this particular collection had drawn many out-of-state buyers. She had a good idea of who would be bidding on what and had no desire to get in the middle. Especially since her own working capital was now so limited. This time around, she was out of the running for the prime pieces.
Like so many of the other dealers there, Amanda often shopped the sales with specific clients in mind, but today nothing really caught her eye until she found the table displaying the Hull. The small white bank in the shape of an owl could bring a nice price if she could get it inexpensively. The frog bank would bring even more. There were several jardinieres from the early 1920s that could be profitable. Her eyes continued to scan the selection, coming to rest on the grouping of vases in what she recognized as the Tropicana pattern. Though not representative of the earliest works, this design, popular in the 1950s, had become increasingly collectible. Amanda had a customer who’d pay dearly for the vases. She hoped that with the heavy emphasis on the Roseville, the Hull would be overlooked by the other dealers. She glanced at her watch. The sale would begin in less than forty minutes. She hoped they’d start on time and that the Hull would go early. She wanted to get back to St. Mark’s Village by two. Not having anyone to watch the shop, she’d had to leave it closed in order to come to the sale, but had hoped to open for at least part of the afternoon.
It was just another reminder of how much she missed Derek. They’d shared the duties of both buying and selling. If one attended a daytime sale, the other tended the shop. Very often they’d both attend evening sales or auctions together. Back in the days when she was still easily intimidated, he’d bid for her. Within the past year, she’d become determined to be more assertive, and under Derek’s tutelage she had become a shrewd bidder.
“Want to grab some coffee and a Danish or something before the auction starts?” Iona was at her elbow. “Unless you still want to browse . . .”
“No, I’ve seen what I need to see.”
“Anything of interest?”
“Some vases one of my customers will love,” Amanda said as she wove her way through the ever-growing crowd and headed toward the concession area. “If I can get them cheaply enough, I can make a tidy profit. How about you? Did you find the amethysts?”
“They are so perfect in size and color for the ring I have in mind that I’m pinching myself.” Iona’s dark eyes shone with anticipation. “And there’s also a bracelet with some lovely peridot stones, about a quarter of which are missing.The green would be gorgeous with the purple. There are enough of each for maybe a pin or a pendant as well as the ring. I’m in heaven.”
“Well, then, maybe we should go find seats before all the chairs are gone.” Amanda glanced at the tent where the actual sale would be held. “It looks like it’s filling up pretty quickly.”
“Not to worry. I was here early and left my jacket over two near the front.”
“Let’s hope it’s still there.”
“It will be. People are generally pretty good about respecting a reserved seat at sales like this. But just to be on the safe side, let’s get our coffee now and get ourselves seated.”
They did so, with ten minutes to spare.
“Daria called last night,” Iona said as she