Hidden Riches by Nora Roberts

add, that has taken me more than eight months to accumulate, another two months to have transported. That’s nearly a year of my time, which is quite valuable to me, not to mention the expense.” He hefted the ashtray again and swung it through the delicate folds of milady’s gown. Thin shardsof porcelain shot like tiny missiles through the air. “You can understand my distress, can you not?”
    â€œYes, sir.” Cool sweat slipped clammily down DiCarlo’s back. “Naturally.”
    â€œThen we’ll have to see about getting it back. Sit down, Mr. DiCarlo.”
    With an unsteady hand, DiCarlo brushed porcelain splinters off the buttery leather of a chair. He sat cautiously on the edge of his seat.
    â€œThe holidays make me magnanimous, Mr. DiCarlo.” Finley took his own seat and continued to caress the etui in intimate little circles. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You have plans, I imagine.”
    â€œWell, actually, yes. My family, you see . . .”
    â€œFamilies.” Finley’s face lit up with a smile. “There is nothing like family around the holidays. I have none myself, but that is unimportant. Since you’ve managed to bring me one small portion of my property, so quickly, I hate to take you away from your family at Christmas.” Keeping the etui trapped between his palms, he folded his hands. “I’ll give you until the first of the year. Generous, I know, but as I said, the holidays. They make me sentimental. I’ll want everything that is mine by January one—no, no, make it the second.” His smile spread and widened. “I trust you won’t disappoint me.”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œNaturally, I’ll expect progress reports, holiday or no. You can reach me here, or on my private number. Do stay in touch, Mr. DiCarlo. If I don’t hear from you at regular intervals, I’d have to come looking for you myself. We wouldn’t want that.”
    â€œNo, sir.” DiCarlo had an uncomfortable image of being hunted by a rabid wolf. “I’ll get right on it.”
    â€œExcellent. Oh, and have Barbara make a copy of this list for me before you go, will you?”
    Â 
    Jed couldn’t say why he was doing it. He’d had no business going down to the shop that morning in the first place. Hewas perfectly content to spend his days working out in the gym, lifting weights in his own apartment, catching up on his reading. God knew what crazy impulse had had him wandering downstairs and somehow volunteering to make Dora’s deliveries.
    Of course, he remembered with what was almost a smile, he had gotten tipped pretty well at that. A few bucks, and in one memorable case a brightly colored tin filled with homemade Christmas cookies.
    It hadn’t been such a big deal, and it had been interesting to see how much more enthusiastically you were greeted when you knocked on someone’s door carrying a box rather than a badge.
    He could have crossed the whole experience off as a kind of experiment, but now he was standing out in the cold replacing a banister. The fact that he was enjoying it on some deep, elemental level made him feel like an idiot.
    He was forced to work outside because Dora didn’t have ten feet of unoccupied space anywhere in her building. Since her idea of tools had run to a single screwdriver and a ball peen hammer with a taped handle, he’d had to drop by Brent’s to borrow some. Of course, Mary Pat had grilled him on everything from his eating habits to his love life while plying him with Snickerdoodles. It had taken him nearly an hour to escape with his sanity and a power saw.
    The events of the day had taught Jed one important lesson: He would keep to himself from this point on, just as he had planned. When a man didn’t like people to begin with, there was no rational reason to mix with them.
    At least there was no one to bother him in the rear of the