Granny.
“Anything else?” Granny asked.
Eve made a vague gesture toward the rear of the shop. Her gaze was direct for a moment and then drifted away. With a little sigh, she presented the letter.
“I also found this. It’s just an old letter.”
Eve was not about to tell her she found the letter in the lantern, and that the lantern and the letter went together. She just couldn’t bring herself to be that forthcoming.
Granny’s face brightened again. “An old letter? Oh, let me see,” she said, with girlish excitement.
Grudgingly, Eve handed it over.
It was obvious that Granny Gilbert loved old things. Her thin and peering face lost years as she brought the smudged envelope up to her eyes for close examination. Her voice took on strength and emotion. “Well, my stars, won’t you look at this. It’s postmarked December 24, 1885. I wonder where on Earth it came from? I have never seen it. No, not ever.”
“Probably just a laundry list of things to do or some boring business thing,” Eve said, already reaching for the envelope.
Granny raised her eyes. “No, I don’t think so. It’s addressed to a woman, a Miss Evelyn Sharland in New York, New York. Well, how about that? And look who it’s from: John Allister Harringshaw II, on 5 th Avenue. He sounds important, doesn’t he?”
The room was quiet for a time. Eve heard a distant lawnmower and a dog barking. The envelope claimed Granny’s complete attention for a good minute, as she turned it over and over, her eyes softening on it. Eve saw a delicious gleam of curiosity forming in Granny’s eyes.
Eve had to act fast or Granny would never sell Eve the letter.
“So how much for the lantern and the letter, Granny Gilbert?”
Granny lifted her eyes, staring at Eve’s outstretched hand.
Eve swallowed away a dry throat.
Granny’s attention left the letter and began to travel around the shop.
“I will miss this shop, you know. It’s been in my life for nearly 85 years. I played here when I was a girl. I have so many good memories about this place. So many. Did you know that I kissed my first boy in this shop? That was about 1938. I was seven years old and Billy Tyler was nine. The place was so much nicer then. Clean and cared for, not so dusty and rickety as it is now. I was hoping I wouldn’t be the last. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to close it and sell off all the items to somebody I don’t know. But life goes on and old things, like me and all the items in this shop, must go, mustn’t they? It’s the way of things, I suppose.”
Eve liked Granny Gilbert, and part of her would have loved to sit and listen to her many stories about the shop; but the larger part of Eve wanted that letter, and she was worried that Granny wasn’t going to sell it to her.
Granny bantered on. “All the items in this shop have so many stories to tell, you know. People owned these things and put them in their homes and their pockets and passed them on to their wives and lovers and children. Then, bang. Life happens. The world changes, somebody dies or gets divorced; someone loses all their money and their house, or their watch and their wedding ring and all their jewelry. And then guess what? Some of those items wind up here. Right here in my little shop. Isn’t that something? All the energy—the love and the hope—gets stored up in these items and, if one could read the code locked inside them, well, what great epic stories they would tell.”
Granny’s eyes were staring off into distant worlds. She took off her glasses, reached for a wrinkled handkerchief from her sweater pocket and wiped them absently. “Yes… what great stories they could tell.” She put her glasses back on.
Eve nodded. “Yes, I’d love to hear those stories. I love the feel of old things, and the smells. I love the mystery and I love to speculate about the lives that owned
“Anything else?” Granny asked.
Eve made a vague gesture toward the rear of the shop. Her gaze was direct for a moment and then drifted away. With a little sigh, she presented the letter.
“I also found this. It’s just an old letter.”
Eve was not about to tell her she found the letter in the lantern, and that the lantern and the letter went together. She just couldn’t bring herself to be that forthcoming.
Granny’s face brightened again. “An old letter? Oh, let me see,” she said, with girlish excitement.
Grudgingly, Eve handed it over.
It was obvious that Granny Gilbert loved old things. Her thin and peering face lost years as she brought the smudged envelope up to her eyes for close examination. Her voice took on strength and emotion. “Well, my stars, won’t you look at this. It’s postmarked December 24, 1885. I wonder where on Earth it came from? I have never seen it. No, not ever.”
“Probably just a laundry list of things to do or some boring business thing,” Eve said, already reaching for the envelope.
Granny raised her eyes. “No, I don’t think so. It’s addressed to a woman, a Miss Evelyn Sharland in New York, New York. Well, how about that? And look who it’s from: John Allister Harringshaw II, on 5 th Avenue. He sounds important, doesn’t he?”
The room was quiet for a time. Eve heard a distant lawnmower and a dog barking. The envelope claimed Granny’s complete attention for a good minute, as she turned it over and over, her eyes softening on it. Eve saw a delicious gleam of curiosity forming in Granny’s eyes.
Eve had to act fast or Granny would never sell Eve the letter.
“So how much for the lantern and the letter, Granny Gilbert?”
Granny lifted her eyes, staring at Eve’s outstretched hand.
Eve swallowed away a dry throat.
Granny’s attention left the letter and began to travel around the shop.
“I will miss this shop, you know. It’s been in my life for nearly 85 years. I played here when I was a girl. I have so many good memories about this place. So many. Did you know that I kissed my first boy in this shop? That was about 1938. I was seven years old and Billy Tyler was nine. The place was so much nicer then. Clean and cared for, not so dusty and rickety as it is now. I was hoping I wouldn’t be the last. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to close it and sell off all the items to somebody I don’t know. But life goes on and old things, like me and all the items in this shop, must go, mustn’t they? It’s the way of things, I suppose.”
Eve liked Granny Gilbert, and part of her would have loved to sit and listen to her many stories about the shop; but the larger part of Eve wanted that letter, and she was worried that Granny wasn’t going to sell it to her.
Granny bantered on. “All the items in this shop have so many stories to tell, you know. People owned these things and put them in their homes and their pockets and passed them on to their wives and lovers and children. Then, bang. Life happens. The world changes, somebody dies or gets divorced; someone loses all their money and their house, or their watch and their wedding ring and all their jewelry. And then guess what? Some of those items wind up here. Right here in my little shop. Isn’t that something? All the energy—the love and the hope—gets stored up in these items and, if one could read the code locked inside them, well, what great epic stories they would tell.”
Granny’s eyes were staring off into distant worlds. She took off her glasses, reached for a wrinkled handkerchief from her sweater pocket and wiped them absently. “Yes… what great stories they could tell.” She put her glasses back on.
Eve nodded. “Yes, I’d love to hear those stories. I love the feel of old things, and the smells. I love the mystery and I love to speculate about the lives that owned
Similar Books
Mr. Eternity
Aaron Thier
A Passion Rekindled
Rontora Nolan
Tanked: TANKED
Cheri Lewis
Rogue (Bad Blooded Rebel Series)
Mellie George
Heat and Dust
Ruth Prawer Jhabvala
Autumn in the City of Angels
Kirby Howell
Onyx
Jacqueline; Briskin
You Can’t Fall in Love With Your Ex (Can You?)
Sophie Ranald
The Lodestone
Charlene Keel
Deadly Decision
Regina Smeltzer