A Fatal Appraisal Read Online Free PDF Page A

the
filming will take place. We'll select pieces from the Great Hall—that huge room
you first walk in after entering the building—and bring the pieces, along with
their owners, in here. The Great Hall is where the public will line up to meet
with the regular appraisers. Only head appraisers and their crews will be back
here."
    As they approached another curtained section, Molly saw a
short, balding man with thin strips of greasy black hair combed over to form
the pattern of a garden rake, snap a latex glove onto his right hand. Frowning,
he pulled a respirator mask over his mouth and nose and bent over to examine
the back of a southern blanket chest.
    "This is Frank." Victoria gestured languidly, as
if the effort of raising her arm was too much trouble. Everything about her
spoke of boredom and lethargy. "He's head appraiser for furniture."
    "Hello." Molly offered a quick greeting, her eyes
glued to the lovely, dark brown patina of the blanket chest.
"Walnut?" she asked the masked man.
    "Yes." Frank drew down his mask, a pleased look
appearing on his pallid face. He raised the lid of the chest and pointed to the
unfinished interior wood. "With southern yellow pine secondary."
    "Of course." Molly smiled. "Is it
Virginia-made?"
    Frank looked at the piece thoughtfully. "This is an
unusually deep blanket chest with an interior compartment for storage," he
began in a nasal voice, sounding exactly as he did on television. "The
compartment has a hinged lid with the original hardware. The blanket chest
rests on the original bracket feet. It is generally hard to find original feet
in good condition and without restoration." He paused. "I'd date this
piece circa 1830 and give it a provenance of western North Carolina."
Frank turned to Molly as if waiting for applause.
    "Why the mask?" she asked instead of gushing her
approval.
    "Oh! I have terrible, terrible allergies. I'm allergic
to so many things ... dust pet hair, pollen, peanut butter, milk—"
    "Please, Frank. You are not allergic to
milk," Victoria interrupted crossly, finally demonstrating that she was
capable of human emotion. "You just want to be allergic to
everything and you aren't happy without some new drama , so now it's
milk."
    Frank stood over the blanket chest and put his hands on his
hips defensively. "I am simply a sensitive person, unlike some people who could turn hot springs into ice."
     Molly quickly interrupted the pair before their argument
could escalate. She introduced herself properly to Frank and asked him to
remove the mask so she could photograph him with the lovely chest. Victoria
made a snort of disgust and walked away towards the cafeteria. Her purposeful
walk was incongruous with the rest of her mannerisms and she couldn’t seem to
get away from Frank fast enough.
    So much for my guide, Molly thought.
    "This is certainly a prime piece to photograph."
Frank gestured at the blanket chest, unfazed by Victoria’s swift departure.
"But I am going to start off my segment with a fabulous slant-front
pigeonhole desk. Would you like to see it?" he asked.
    Molly nodded enthusiastically and Frank peeled off his latex
gloves and dropped them on the ground in repulsion. Kicking them repeatedly
with his feet as if they weren't dust-covered gloves but a pair of scorpions,
he managed to maneuver them away from the chest. He stuck his mask in the front
pocket of his brown pants.
    'There are far too many English reproductions here in
Richmond," he said dismissively, leading Molly out of his cubbyhole.
"I hope the local viewers learn something from this show."
    Frank led Molly behind another curtained partition to an
area cluttered with stands, bucket benches, cleaning materials, and unused
spotlights. Here, a slant- front desk was positioned on a raised platform
covered in gray carpet. Two men were rubbing the desk with soft cloths, pausing
every now and then to reapply dabs of wax to their cloths. Molly immediately
noticed how hot it was beneath the row of