Holding the Dream by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

up the computer and check Margo’s bookkeeping. But only when her lead was comfortable. She corrected the expected mistakes, rolled her eyes over a few unexpected ones, and tidied up the files.
    She was forced to admit, in the end, that accountant’s lapse was what cost her the victory. When she came back, smug, already preparing the lecture she intended to deliver to Margo on the cost of careless accounting, her rival was closing a sale.
    A whopper.
    Kate knew antiques. A child didn’t grow up at Templeton House and not learn to recognize and appreciate them. Herheart sank even as dollar signs revolved in her head when she recognized the piece Margo was cooing over.
    Louis XVI, Kate recited in her head. A secrétaire-a`-abattant , probably near 1775. The marquetry panels, typical of that era, included vases and garlands of flowers, musical instruments and drapery.
    Oh, it was a stunner, Kate thought, and one of the remaining pieces from Margo’s original stock.
    â€œI’m sorry to lose it,” Margo was telling the dapper white-haired gentleman who leaned on a gold-headed cane and studied the secretaire and the woman who described it with equal admiration. “I bought it in Paris several years ago.”
    â€œYou have a wonderful eye. In fact, you have two wonderful eyes.”
    â€œOh, Mr. Stiener, that’s so sweet of you.” In her shameless style, Margo trailed a finger down his arm. “I do hope you’ll think of me, now and again, when you’re enjoying this.”
    â€œI can promise you I will. Now, as to shipping?”
    â€œJust come over to the counter and I’ll take all the necessary information.” Margo crossed the room, hips swinging, and shot Kate a triumphant look.
    â€œI think that crushes you for the day, ace,” she said when her customer strolled out.
    â€œThe day’s not over,” Kate insisted. “We still have two hours until closing. So until the fat lady sings—which will be you in a few months—don’t count your chickens.”
    â€œSuch a sore loser.” Margo clucked her tongue and was ready to pounce when the door jangled. It wasn’t a customer, but she pounced anyway. “Josh!”
    He caught her, kissed her, then pulled her to a chair. “Off your feet.” He kept one hand on her shoulder and turned to glare at Kate. “You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t overdo.”
    â€œDon’t hang this on me. Besides, Margo doesn’t stand when she can sit and doesn’t sit when she can lie down. And I made her drink a glass of milk an hour ago.”
    Josh narrowed his eyes. “A whole glass?”
    â€œWhat she didn’t spit at me.” Because it amused and touched her to see her big brother worry and fuss, Kate decided to forgive him. She stepped over and kissed him. “Welcome home.”
    â€œThanks.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “Where’s Laura?”
    â€œUpstairs with a couple of customers.”
    â€œAnd there’s another one in the wardrobe room,” Margo began, “so—”
    â€œSit,” Josh ordered. “Kate can handle it. You’re looking pale.”
    Margo pouted. “I am not.”
    â€œYou’re going home and taking a nap,” he decided. “No way you’re going to work all day, then run around giving a party. Kate and Laura can finish out here.”
    â€œSure we can.” Kate shot Margo a smug look. “A couple of hours should do it.”
    â€œKeep dreaming, Powell. I’ve already won.”
    â€œWon?” Always interested in a bet, Josh looked from woman to woman. “Won what?”
    â€œJust a friendly wager that I could outsell her.”
    â€œWhich she’s already lost,” Margo pointed out. “And I’m feeling generous. You can have the two-hour handicap, Kate.” Taking Josh’s hand, she rubbed it against