Word: bauble

 

bauble

\ BAW-buhl \  , noun;

1. a showy, usually cheap, ornament; trinket; gewgaw.

2. a jester's scepter.

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               Steven sat down at the small table with cautious optimism on his face.  The crowd shuffled around him, filling the large room with a loud murmur.  The man across from him looked like he wasn’t paying any attention to him at first, as he was too busy with a phone.  Steven waited patiently for the balding man to look up.  He was tempted to clear his throat to get the man’s attention, but thought better of it.  This was a very busy man, and Steven didn’t want to seem impatient or ungrateful for his services.

               “Alright, what do you have for me today?”  The man said as he finally looked up and put his phone away.

               “Oh , right.” Steven scrambled to pull his item from the dull grey satchel slung around his shoulders before carefully placing it on the table.

               The item was a small glass sculpture of a woman fetching water from an old pump while a boy and girl watched.  It was a very nice sculpture, and Steven had always thought it was worth something.  Now that a large network antique appraisal show was in town, he could finally find out.

               The appraiser picked the sculpture up and looked at it critically.  His glasses covered eyes squinted as they took in every detail of the piece.  Finally, he set the sculpture down gently.  Steven waited with baited breath for the results.

               “What you have here is a glass work that I’d say is roughly twenty or so years old.  Although the sculpture itself is reasonably detailed, it was not made by any major sculptors or companies.  The glass itself s of poor quality, and was most likely over refined to give it the appearance of a much higher quality material.  This makes it much more brittle though, and if you look closely you can see that part of it has broken off.”  He used a pen to point out two lumps near the children.  Steven had never really looked at that, but now that he was he could tell they were supposed to be feet.  “All in all, while this is an aesthetically pleasing piece, it won’t bring in very much, regardless of who you sell it to.  I’d say thirty, maybe forty dollars at most.”

               Steven’s eyes widened.  None of that could be true.  There was no way it could be so worthless.  And the age was all wrong.  The piece had been in his family far longer than that.

               “But wait a moment,” He said, “My family has had this sculpture for much longer than twenty years.  It was in my family’s living room when I was a child.”

               “Really?  Is that so?”  The appraiser said.  He picked up the sculpture and took another look at it.  “Yes, I see.  I’m sorry, I was mistaken about something.  It’s value is probably closer to ten or twenty dollars.”

               “What?”  Steven said angrily.

               “You see, this is a forgery.  A fake.  Although I don’t recall the exact statue, I’m sure an image of the real one can be found online.  Just a moment please.”  He took out his phone and took a quick picture of the sculpture.  After a few minutes of searching, he showed Steven a picture.  It was of the sculpture, but there was an additional figure, one of an adult man, standing next to the children.  “This is a piece called ‘Family at the Pump’.  If you had the real one, it would be worth around one or two hundred dollars.  But what you have here is a forgery.  See here, in the photo the level of detail in the faces of the family?  Now look at yours.  You should be able to tell the difference.”

               Steven looked carefully at both the photo and the sculpture.  Although his eyes weren’t trained to see small details, he could tell that the sculpture he had was of lower quality.

               “I’m sorry, but this is nearly worthless.  But, at least it’s still a reasonably attractive piece.  Even if you can’t sell it, you can at least use it as decoration.”  The appraiser said. 

               “I see.”  Steven said sadly.  He put the sculpture back in the back, much less carefully than he had taken it out.  “Thank you for your time.”

               “Hold on a moment.”  The appraiser said before Steven could get up.  “Now, I admit my expertise is in sculpture, so I might be mistaken, but I believe you should get that satchel appraised while you’re here.”

               “This old thing?  It’s worthless.  I got it at a yard sale a few years ago.”

               “You’d be surprised.  Like I said, I might be wrong, but you might want to check, just in case.  If you go down three isles and take a left, you’ll find the apparel section.  They’ll be able to tell you what it is.”  The way the man spoke made Steven consider it more than he otherwise would have.  He set off to find out exactly what he had.

               A few hours later, Steven found himself cornered by a camera crew.  They were stopping random people as they left to tell the crowd what they had found.  He had been somewhat reluctant, but he had been convinced with the ‘five minutes of fame’ argument.

               “So what do you have, sir?”  The cameraman asked.

               “Well, I have a very elaborate paperweight worth ten dollars, and a genuine World War One army satchel that’s worth $500.”  

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I went on one of these when I was a kid.  I wasn't as lucky as this guy though.  I think I had some candle sticks or something like that.  I don't even remember how much they were worth, but it wasn't too much.  But they could have been.  You never know until you find out.