Hi, my name is Edie Brown and I’m an art and antique dealer. As such, my daily plans often stray from what I intend. Take today, for instance, my goal was to leave New York City and drive straight through to a campground in the Berkshire Mountains where I’d spend the night. My internship in the city at Christie’s auction house was over. I had nothing tying me down. No one to answer to. I was going to live out of my van for the summer, buying and selling antiques and art at flea markets and shows.

Like I said, I was on a mission, making good time, an iced latte in my cupholder, music cranked to full volume as I closed in on the Berkshires. Then I spotted a handmade sign flagging in the breeze.

Rummage Sale Today! 9 to 3. St. Marks Church —>

I slammed on the brakes and followed the arrow. It was almost two o’clock. Most likely anything of value was already gone. Still, I’d hate myself if I didn’t check it out.

I sped down the side street, following the arrows into an older neighborhood. The church came into view, large and well maintained. I winged into the parking lot and snagged a free space. A couple of middle-aged women were tossing armloads of rumpled clothing into the trunk of a car. A man pushed a rusty wheelbarrow filled with garden hoses out from the church’s side door.

Hurrying, I made my way to that door. As I opened it and stepped inside, the echo of voices filled my ears and aroma of baked goods and goulash flooded past me. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d only had a granola bar for lunch. But I couldn’t let the food distract me. I had a job to do.

I scanned the room. People elbowed and pawed their way along tables mounded with clothes. Baskets overflowed with neckties and scarves. Florist type vases and yellowed Tupperware lined metal bookshelves. Nothing of value to me. Maybe this was going to be a waste of time.

A gray-hair lady walked over and smiled. “The clothes are five dollars for all you can carry. We just marked the food down to half-price.”

I nodded, matched her smile, then asked, “You don’t happen to have any Christmas things, do you?” Christmas of all sorts, vintage and antique, often have good value and are easy to sell.

“The Christmas Corner’s in the back, next to the food table,” she said.

“Great. Thank you.” I dashed away. But as I headed in the direction she’d indicated, skirting shoppers and clothing, my excitement waned. Even at a distance I could see the so-called Christmas Corner consisted of used tree skirts, garland, and tangled twinkle lights piled atop a blue coffee table. Except—

The neurons at the back of my brain jumped to life. Perhaps it came from growing up in the antique and art trades, tagging along with my grandparents wherever they went. Maybe it was a knack heightened by my education and internships, but my instincts screamed that I’d spotted something good.

I sprinted over, pushed aside the Christmas junk. Not a coffee table like I’d first assumed. It was an antique blanket box in original blue paint. I ran my hand along its sides, feeling the slight waviness of hand planed wood. It was nineteenth-century, judging by the feel and general appearance. I’d be able to pinpoint its age closer once I looked inside at the hinges and till. No matter what, it was a quality piece and an easy sell. The only problem was, I couldn’t see a price tag.

I glanced over my shoulder to where a man in a priest collar stood behind the food table, scooping steaming goulash into pint-size containers. “Excuse me,” I called to get his attention. “Can you tell me how much this box is?”

He pressed his lips together, silent for a moment. “We use that for storage. It’s not really for sale.” He scratched his chin. “It’s old. Is it worth fifty dollars to you?”

“Sure. I’ll take it for that,” I said. It was a cheap price, though maybe not when compared to clothing selling for five dollars an armload. I glanced at the goulash. It smelled even more wonderful up close. “I’ll take a pint of that too.”

The priest helped me carry the box to my van. As soon as he vanished back inside, I settled into the driver seat and opened the goulash, eating it while I daydreamed about what I’d get for the box at a flea market. Perhaps three hundred dollars, if I priced it low for a quick sale. I smiled, already counting the profit in my mind…

What I didn’t know at that moment was in less than twelve hours a phone call would change my plans again, drawing me back to Vermont instead of to a flea market, back to my family’s home, the place of my heart—

And heartbreak.

The Art of the Decoy, A Scandal Mountain Antiques Mystery #1
Genre: Cozy
Release: April 2022
Purchase Link

Perfect for fans of Jane K. Cleland and Connie Berry, Tricia Esden’s series debut is sure to please.

After her mother is sent to prison for art forgery, Edie Brown returns to Northern Vermont to rebuild her family’s fine art and antiques business. She’s certain she can do it now that her mother is gone. After all, butting heads with her mom over bad business practices was what drove Edie away three years ago, including a screwup that landed Edie on probation for selling stolen property.

When Edie scores a job appraising a waterfowl decoy collection at a hoarder’s farmhouse, she’s determined to take advantage of the situation to rebuild the business’s tarnished reputation and dwindling coffers. In lieu of payment, Edie intends to cherry-pick an exceptional decoy carved by the client’s renowned Quebecoise folk artist ancestors. Only the tables turn when the collection vanishes.

Accused of the theft, Edie’s terrified that the fallout will destroy the business and land her in prison next to her mom. Desperate, she digs into the underbelly of the local antiques and art world. When Edie uncovers a possible link between the decoy theft and a deadly robbery at a Quebec museum, she longs to ask her ex-probation officer, and ex-lover, for help. But she suspects his recent interest in rekindling their romance may hide a darker motive.

With the help of her eccentric uncle Tuck and Kala, their enigmatic new employee, Edie must risk all she holds dear to expose the thieves and recover the decoys before the FBI’s Art Crime Team or the ruthless thieves themselves catch up with her.

Meet the author
Trish Esden loves museums, gardens, wilderness, dogs and birds, in various orders depending on the day. She lives in northern Vermont where she deals antiques with her husband, a profession she’s been involved with since her teens. Don’t ask what her favorite type of antique is. She loves hunting down old bottles and rusty barn junk as much as she enjoys fine art and furnishings. Trish is the author of the Scandal Mountain Antiques Mystery series from Crooked Lane Books.

All comments are welcomed.