Holding the Dream Page 0,14

businesses failed within a year, and almost eighty percent went under within five.

And Kate worried over it, gnawed on it at night when she couldn't sleep. But Pretenses, Margo's conception of an elegant, exclusive, and unique secondhand shop that offered everything from designer gowns to teaspoons, was holding its own.

Kate's part in it might have been small, and her reasons for getting involved certainly straddled the practical and the emotional, but she was enjoying herself. When she wasn't obsessing.

Here was proof, after all, that life could be what you made of it. She badly needed to hang on to that idea.

"Is there something I can show you?" The man she smiled at was thirtyish, attractive in a rugged, lived-in manner. She appreciated the worn jeans, the faded shirt, the dashing reddish moustache.

"Ah, well, maybe. This necklace here."

She looked down into the display, zeroed in on his choice. "It's pretty, isn't it? Pearls are so classic."

Not regular pearls, she thought as she lifted the necklace out. What the hell were they called? She continued to search through her mind as she draped the necklace over a velvet form.

"Seed pearls," she remembered and beamed at him. He really was awfully cute. "It's called a lariat," she added.

She'd gotten that off the tag. "Three strands, and the clasp, or the slide thing has a..." Give me a minute. "A mabe pearl set in gold. Tradition with a flair," she added, enjoying the ad lib.

"I wondered how much..." Hesitating, he flipped the tiny, discreet price tag over. To his credit, he winced only slightly. "Well," he smiled a little, "it hits the top of my price range."

"It's something she'll wear for years. Is it for Mother's Day?"

"Yeah." He shifted his feet, running a calloused finger over the strands. "She'd go nuts over it."

She melted toward him. Any man who would take such time and trouble for a gift for his mother earned top points from Kate Powell. Especially when he looked just a little bit like Kevin Costner. "We have several other really nice pieces that aren't quite so expensive."

"No, I think... maybe... Could you put it on so I could get a better picture?"

"Sure." Happy to oblige, she fastened it around her neck. "What do you think? Is it great?" She angled the counter mirror so that she could judge for herself and added, laughing, "If you don't buy it, I might have to snap it up myself."

"It looks awfully pretty on you," he said with a shy, quiet smile that made her want to scoop him up and bundle him into the back room. "She's got dark hair like you. Wears it longer, but the pearls look good with dark hair. I guess I'll have to take it. Along with that box over there, the silver one with all the fancy scrolling."

Still wearing the necklace, Kate scooted out from behind the counter to get the trinket box he'd pointed to. "Two presents." She reached up to undo the necklace clasp. "Your mother must be a very special woman."

"Oh, she's great. She's going to like this box. She sort of collects them. The necklace is for my wife, though," he added. "I'm getting all my Mother's Day shopping done at one time."

"Your wife." Kate forced herself to keep her lips cheerily curved at the corners. "I guarantee she'll love it. But if she or your mother prefers something else, we have a thirty-day exchange and return policy." With what she considered admirable restraint, Kate laid the necklace down. "Now, will that be cash or charge?"

Ten minutes later she watched him saunter out. "The cute ones," she muttered to Laura, "the nice ones, the ones who love their mothers are all married."

"There, there." Laura patted Kate's arm before reaching under the counter to select the proper box. "It looked like a very good sale."

"Puts me at least two hundred up on Margo. And the day's young."

"That's the spirit. But I should warn you, she's got one back in the wardrobe room now, and she's definitely leaning toward Versace."

"Shit," Kate turned to scan the main showroom for prey. "I'm going for the blue-haired lady with the Gucci bag. She's mine."

"Reel her in, tiger."

Kate didn't break for lunch and told herself it was because she wanted to keep up her momentum, not because her stomach was acting up again. She had tremendous success in the second-floor ladies' boudoir and racked up two peignoirs, a stained-glass accent lamp, and a tasseled footstool.

Maybe she did sneak into the