Uncovering Secrets: The Third Novel in the Rosemont Series by Barbara Hinske Page B

followed suit.
    “Either
one will make a perfect choice,” she said as she ushered them out the door.
    Maggie
burst out laughing as Judy turned to her. “Look who’s the diplomat. Long day?”
    Judy
stretched. “Long and slow. Other than a handful of people buying birthday cards,
it’s been dead. And those two have been here for over four hours. They looked
at every invitation in every book. They don’t have the same taste or vision for
this wedding, and neither of them can make a decision to save their life. God
knows how they’re going to plan a wedding.” She patted Maggie’s arm. “But you
didn’t come here to listen to me complain. What are you looking for?”
    “Advice,
really,” Maggie said.
    Judy
arched her brow.
    “Remember
when I got locked in my attic? Did I tell you I found an old secretary full of
vintage silver?”
    Judy’s
head snapped up. “I remember you getting locked in. But you never mentioned
vintage silver!”
    “I’ve
had it all moved downstairs, and I’ve started polishing it. In fact, I ran out
of silver polish and just bought more. You should see this
stuff—incredible!”
    Judy’s
breathing quickened.
    “John
said to call you. That you’re the local expert.”
    “He’s
right!” Judy said, flipping the Open sign on her door to Closed. “Let’s get out
of here. My day is suddenly looking up!”

Chapter 21
    “Hey, John,” Judy Young said, never taking her eyes from
the treasure spread out on the massive dining room table at Rosemont.
    “I
can see I’m not needed,” John said, winking at Maggie. “I’m on call tonight at
the emergency animal hospital, so Roman and I will just head on home.”
    “Coward,”
Maggie said, walking them to the door.
    “You
better believe it. You won’t get rid of her before midnight.”
    “That’s
fine by me. I’m lucky that she’s knowledgeable and interested.”
    “What
was it my grandmother used to say? Always count the silver?”
    “I’m
not worried about Judy,” Maggie said.
    John
leaned in to kiss her. “Call me if you get lonely later.”
    Judy
was circling the table like a lion stalking its prey when Maggie returned to
the dining room.
    “Incredible,
isn’t it?’ Maggie asked.
    “I’ll
say. You’ve got quite the collection. And it’s from different periods. Mostly
Victorian, but that little creamer in the center—next to the
teapot—is almost certainly Revolutionary War era.”
    “Really?
I thought it was too unadorned to be a contemporary of most of this stuff, but
I had no idea it could be that old.”
    “If
it’s Paul Revere, you can probably retire. Let’s take a look,” she said as
Maggie handed the piece to her.
    “Nope.
Sorry. But it’s got a stamp and the patina is consistent with the era. Here,”
Judy said, handing the piece back to Maggie. “Hold it while I snap a photo of
the mark with my phone. I’ll go online and do some research.”
    “You
don’t have to do that,” Maggie protested.
    “I
want to do it,” Judy stated firmly. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.
Makes me wish I had an attic full of old junk.”
    “Did
you see this flatware?” Maggie asked, pointing to the sideboard.
    “Holy
cow—how many pieces are there?”
    “One
hundred and fifty-five. I don’t even know what some of them are supposed to be
used for,” Maggie said. “I know this is a teaspoon, of course, and one of these
must be a soup spoon, but what about this other spoon? It’s almost the same
size and shape as the soup spoon. Why are there two similar, but slightly
different shapes?
    “Good
question. Very observant of you. The smaller of the two is a bouillon spoon.
You’ve also got both teaspoons and coffee spoons. See? The coffee spoons are a
bit smaller.”
    “You’re
right. I hadn’t noticed that. There’re also fish forks and knives. The original
Mrs. Martin must have been a very particular hostess to have owned all of these
specialized pieces.”
    Judy
turned one of the soup spoons