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partner, and then at the book on the lectern. "He's just disappointed
that these botanicals aren't hand-painted."
    Molly leaned over to examine a bookplate detailing the
medicinal uses of lavender. "It's still lovely," she offered, but
Borris made a very Caesar-like dismissal with the flick of his wide hand and
turned his dignified shoulders away to dig for another book from a pile at his
feet.
    Jessica turned to Molly. "You have an unusual name for
this day and age. Kind of old-fashioned. Is there a story behind it?"
     "Not a good one," Molly laughed. "My parents
were on their way home from a camping trip in the Smoky Mountains. The car
broke down in this little two-horse town. I was conceived in a roadside hotel
named The Molly Arms. This was a big surprise to my mom, who liked neither
camping nor kids. My parents didn't stay together long after that night, but I
guess the name stuck with her, even though my dad didn't."
    "Sounds like a story I can relate to," Jessica
said bitterly. "Your mom was probably better off raising you alone."
    Molly shifted, uncomfortable with the subject of her
parents' infinitesimal marriage. "So are you the jewelry appraiser?"
she asked, hoping to turn the conversation back to matters at hand.
    "Sure am," Jessica said proudly. "I come from
a long line of Jewish jewelry experts. I'll be opening the show with a
marvelous set of vintage cat's eye pieces. A ring, necklace, and earrings. A
local dealer has had them on display for months with no luck getting them sold,
and she's hoping that getting the set on TV will help them sell."
    "That's nice of you." Molly approved of antique
people helping one another out. In fact, she liked both Jessica and Borris
immediately. "Are the rest of the appraisers around here?"
    "No," Borris answered. "They've already
knocked off for dinner. We're all supposed to meet at the Mexican place down
the street. Want to join us?"
    "Sure. I love margaritas," Molly said, happy to be
included as another member of the show instead of an outsider. She often felt
alienated when she was interviewing the close-knit groups of dealers exhibiting
at shows.
    Borris beamed. "Finally, a woman I can drink with!
Jessica here is strictly a Perrier gal. I always feel like the poster child for
A.A. when I eat out with her."
    "Not for A. A. You're the poster child for crotchety,
old bibliophiles," Jessica teased.
    "Let's go." Borris ignored Jessica's jibe, though
Molly could see the pair had a comfortable camaraderie that usually only
developed between two people who have been friends for a long time.
    As Borris bent to retrieve a book from the floor, Jessica
reached down at the same time to grab her purse. Their heads collided with a
resounding thud.
    "Ow!" Jessica cried as she rubbed her temple.
    "Ow yourself." Borris smiled, touching his own
forehead. "You'd better stop abusing me. You're treating me like Victoria
treats Frank whenever he starts complaining about his allergies."
    "Those two really don't seem to get along," Molly
observed.
    "Don't get along? That's a polite way of saying they'd
like to strangle one another at least once a day," said Jessica
laughingly.
    "Someday, one of them will figure out a way to bump the
other one off," Borris jested, making a goofy slashing motion across his
throat
    "But they're just coworkers," Molly mused.
"How did they grow to dislike one another so much?"
    "As someone who's survived a horrible marriage and a very nasty betrayal which led to divorce, I'll give you a simple answer," Jessica
said as she opened the front door leading outside and gestured for Molly to
pass through. "Their dislike does not stem from the fact that they're
coworkers. There's absolutely no competition between them as host and
appraiser. They want to kill one another for the best reason of all.” She
paused, breathing in the crisp evening air. "They're married. And marriage
is no Disney fairy tale. Trust me, all married people fantasize