Skeleton Letters by Laura Childs Page B

a house of ill repute or something.” She ended her spin in a ballerina pose, arms across her chest, head tilted like a coquette.
    Her idea was preposterous, but Jekyl giggled anyway. “And I presume you’d be the madam?”
    Ava looked infinitely pleased. “Why, of course.” She glanced at Carmela and smiled. “And Carmela would be our . . . business manager. ’Cause she’s so smart with facts and figures.”
    â€œThanks a lot,” said Carmela. “You’re front of house, I’m behind-the-scenes ugly stepsister bean counter.”
    â€œAw, I didn’t mean it like that,” said Ava. “You could be a sexy bean counter, cher .”
    Carmela shook her head. “Never mind, it’s not going to happen. This is only your weird little fantasy.”
    â€œAnd fantasies rarely come true,” added Jekyl.
    Ava gave a pussycat grin. “Sometimes they do.”
    â€œI just decided,” said Carmela, “that once the holidays are over I’m definitely going to sell this place. Lock, stock, and barrel.”
    â€œI suppose it is time,” Ava agreed. She was contrite now, after her little faux pas.
    â€œYou know,” said Jekyl, glancing around, a look of interest animating his angular face, “there’s a way you could sort of . . . mmm . . . maximize your investment here.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” asked Carmela.
    â€œFor one thing,” said Jekyl, “you could sell off some of this furniture.”
    Carmela let loose a disdainful hoot. “This dowdy stuff? Who’d even want it?” She glanced at the frayed damask sofa where Shamus’s heels had dug in nervously and repeatedly as he’d watched New Orleans Saints football on TV. “I was thinking of calling the Salvation Army to see if they’d deign to come over and cart it all away.”
    Jekyl regarded her with interest. “You just don’t like these pieces because they belonged to Shamus.”
    â€œNo,” said Carmela, letting her true feelings emerge, “I detest them because them belonged to Glory.” Glory was Shamus’s big sister. The controlling, parsimonious moneybags of the Meechum family. Glory Meechum was also mean as cat pee and had despised Carmela from the get-go. She’d thrown a fit at their rehearsal dinner, which probably should have been a red flag right there. And crazy Glory had even tried to stop their wedding. Then, more recently, she’d opposed their divorce. Go figure.
    â€œGlory’s a good reason to toss it all in a Dumpster,” said Ava, giving a disdainful sniff.
    â€œYou’re both wrong,” said Jekyl, running a hand across his sleek head. “This stuff is worth money.”
    â€œSay what?” said Ava.
    â€œSeriously?” said Carmela. Now he had her attention.
    â€œI’m an antiques appraiser by trade,” said Jekyl. “But just because I don’t handle this particular type of furniture doesn’t mean I don’t know market value. Fact is, I could hook you up with a couple of dealers who would take this stuff on commission and probably help you net a tidy sum.”
    â€œHow tidy?” asked Carmela.
    â€œThat brocade love seat is probably worth twelve hundred,” said Jekyl. “And that pecan dining room table should easily go for at least four grand.”
    â€œThat’s tidy,” agreed Ava.
    â€œYou see,” said Jekyl, pointing, “you’ve also got a lawyer’s bookcase and a Sheraton-style table.”
    â€œHuh,” said Carmela. It still looked like junk to her.
    Now Jekyl cast an almost-admiring glance around the room. “And that fireplace and marble mantel would photograph beautifully,” he added.
    â€œPhotographs?” said Carmela, perplexed now.
    â€œIf you’re going to sell this place you’ll need good, professional photos,” Jekyl explained. “To use on the