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managed.
    “Seems like you sure love dishes! While they’re wrapping up your other things, come on in the house with me to take a look at it, but I don’t know for sure yet if it’s for sale.”
    Nearly trembling , Jennifer followed Blue into the h ouse, through the box-strewn kitchen to the cluttered dining room with paintings stacked against a wall. And there it was. Jennifer couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath. To cover this betrayal, she faked a small cough.
    Like a museum piece atop the credenza sat the graceful Blue Danube soup tureen, a replica of the empe ror’s own Meissen original. She’d often ogled its photo in the brochure. Steadying herself against the door jam, she felt her pulse race. What pleasure to gaze upon this beautiful piece, never mind the intoxicating possibility of owning it! How could she persuade Blue to let it go?
    “Oh, my,” Jennifer whispered. “Looks like your mother owned a lot of nice things.”
    Rather than accepting the intended compliment, Blue’s face became even sterner. “Actually, she’s my husband’s mother, not mine. He’s sitting outside there with the rest of us, the one in green, wearing the straw hat. Yes, she did have a lot of right pretty dishes and statues and such, but just between us she always acted real snooty.”
    Doubting its wisdom, Jennifer risked a curious, “Oh?”
    “Yep, she was always uppity with me, like I wasn’t good enough for her son. Tried to like her but just never could. My dander went up every time she put me down: how I set a table, the way I cooked, the music I liked, how I dressed. Truth is, I’m not real sorry she’s finally gone.”
    Thinking of no discreet response, Jennifer instead reached for the tureen. “May I?”
    “Here, let me do it for you,” Blue responded protectively. “This here is the lid, and this is the bowl part. I’ll turn it over for you because I saw you doing that with the other pieces outside. And that’s the big saucer that sits under it.” Blue replaced the tureen and its parts on the credenza. “And this here is the dipper,” she held up the soup ladle.
    “Did I understand you to say this is for sale?” Jennifer inquired politely.
    “Maybe, but first I want to see how much you like it, cause that would mean you’d pay... I mean, you’d take real good care of it. And next, I’d be asking a lot for it because I’m just as happy to keep it myself. So I might sell it to you but not for less than...” she’d pick an outrageous price, doubting anyone foolish enough to buy it for that, “not for less than $100,” she said smugly.
    “A hundred dollars? I... is that your best price?”
    “Not a penny less. Yep, that’s it, take it or leave it,” said Blue with finality.
    Jennifer frowned, “Then I guess...I guess I’ll take it!”
    Surprise spread across Blue’s face. What kind of place was this McLean, Virginia? Who ever heard of paying that much for a darned old dish, even one with three parts and a dipper? Should she have asked more? A crafty expression flickered across her face. “I meant to say $125.”
    “But you just offered it to me for $100 and I agreed.”
    “Yes, I know that but I made a mistake. And we don’t take checks! ” Blue warned.
    “I understand about preferring cash, but... well, I mean… you changed the deal.”
    “Yes, I did, but I’m just as happy to keep that casserole myself. And they need me outside! Do you want it or not?”
    Jennifer stared at the tureen. Explaining this impulse purchase to Jason would require creativity. But just look at it—she might never ever stumble upon another such chance! Straightening with decision she said, “I’ll take it.”
    “You got the money with you?”
    “Yes, in the car.”
    “Better get it and pay me then before I even carry it outside the house,” Blue added with caution.
    Hurrying outside, Jennifer whispered to herself over and over: Don’t let her change her mind! Please , don’t let her change