A TEASER FOR MY Madison Picker BETA READERS I am well into the sequel, Some Kind of Good, over 20k words. Charles, Emma, Peter and Thack are in London at a small antiques fair at the Hotel Rembrandt. It is the 4th week of May 2005. Here is an excerpt from Chapter 8: Circuit Riders. .... we rounded the corner to discover Emma and Peter trying on vintage clothing in a stall tended by a pair of gals decked out in their own inventory: one had on a slinky royal red flapper era outfit with sequins and a noise-making fringe on its hem, the other wore a sharkskin man’s suit with exaggerated lapels. The latter looked like it came off the set of The Untouchables. Not to be out done, Peter had on a tricorn had with an ostrich feather jutting backwards that matched a pink feather boa draped around his neck. He was holding up a 1830’s blue and white woven coverlet as a makeshift blind to shield prying eyes from Emma. All I could see of her was a man’s brown fedora as it bobbed back and forth. Thack and I stood side by side with our hands on our hips watching the two of them for a few seconds before I interrupted. “Emma, what are you two doing?” Emma stopped bobbing and looked at me over the edge of the textile with Lucille Ball-like eyes. Over his shoulder, Peter matched her look and pursed his lips, too. I shook my head. They made Thack and me chuckle. “I’m changing clothes, Amor,” she responded, and her hat resumed its movement as pedestrian traffic swerved around the temporary obstacle. As they did, I heard one or two ‘tsk-tsks’ and ‘must be Americans something or another’ from passersby, but nary a word from the dealers in close proximity. Show dealers have eccentricities of their own that far exceed the norm. I know. I’ve set up at hundreds of antiques shows up and down the seaboard east of the Mississippi and I still do one or two every year just to keep my finger on the pulse of the relevant market. Nothing fazes circuit riders: not hair styles, not unusual apparel, not even what pets their fellow dealers bring along for companionship. I once saw a gorgeous redheaded female dealer strut down the center aisle during set-up of a major show in Arlington dressed like a green Lilliputian with a macaw parrot on her arm and a coiled bullwhip in her free hand; no one even noticed. Many dealers bring their dogs and keep them under a table in their booth hidden behind a draped-to-the-floor cover. Occasionally one will bring a cat or a monkey or some other exotic. If the London dealers were anything like my American counterparts, and I was sure they were, Peter and Emma’s antics may earn a mere two lines of discussion later when the traders gather at the nearest watering hole. The vintage getups the two dealer-gals were wearing, and the commotion Peter and Emma were creating, barely raised an eyebrow. Big city folks are sufficiently stoic and jaded that it might take a falling house to raise their collective hair. Peter looked at me over his shoulder. “Charles, she’s ready. Are you ready?” Thack and I froze, looked at each other, and shrugged in unison. “Yeah, I guess so. What are you two –” Abruptly Peter collapsed the jacquard coverlet over the crook of his arm to reveal my bride decked out in a breathtaking evening gown by Suzanne Rabot, a Parisian designer from the 1930’s. It was a floor-length masterpiece of bias-cut red silk with square shoulders and net-tulle sleeves adorned with ascending tulip vine cutwork. My heart fluttered so strongly that the front of my shirt flapped. Later my physician would diagnose me with nonspecific atrial fibrillation. Evening gowns have always had this effect on me, but I didn’t know it had a name. The aisle traffic abruptly halted at the sight of my beauty and stared at her unabashedly. With her jet black hair pulled back in a French braid and one hand on her curvaceous hip, she was beyond magnificent. My jaw trapped shut as Emma pirouetted with pride to reveal a deeply cut back and a sly, over-the-shoulder gaze with her long lashes and dark eyes. Without looking at him, I handed my shopping bag to an openmouthed Thack and stepped forward to let my lady melt into my arms as onlookers and circuit riders burst into spontaneous applause. SOME KIND OF GOOD is the sequel to The Madison Picker which is now available for pre-order from Amazon. English and Spanish: 5x8 paperback, 6x9 large print, ebook.
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 13:24:12 +0000
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