“You were humming.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were. I have witnesses.”
“There's no one else in the car.”
“The candy bears witness.” Ruby held up a random pack of gummy bears. “They saw everything.”
A smile flickered across Celeste’s face, there and gone. “Fine. It is nicer than I expected. But if the next one’s a ballad about star-crossed lovers, I'm commandeering the aux.”
The GPS directed them off the highway onto a two-lane road that wound through farmland. Fields stretched endlessly on either side, punctuated by the occasional farmhouse or barn. Ruby loved drives like this—the sense of being nowhere and everywhere at once, the world reduced to pavement and sky.
“We're going to get lost,” Celeste muttered beside her. “Or abducted. Or both.”
“The gas station attendant seemed trustworthy.”
“That's what they always say in true crime podcasts right before everything goes sideways.”
“You listen to true crime podcasts?” Ruby twisted in her seat to look at Celeste properly. This was an unexpected detail and somehow endearing.
“Braden got me hooked.” Celeste sighed. “He has terrible taste in entertainment.”
“He seems nice.”
“He is nice. Too nice, sometimes. That's why he keeps trying to fix my life.”
Ruby filed that comment away for later examination.
“Turn left in half a mile,” the GPS announced.
They turned onto an even smaller road, and then suddenly there it was: a weathered building with “Noah’s Antiques” painted in fading letters across the front. The parking lot was empty except for an ancient pickup truck that looked like it had survived several decades through sheer stubbornness.
“See?” Ruby said, already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Not abducted.”
“The day's still young.”
Inside, the store was a labyrinth of treasures and junk, the line between them beautifully blurred. Grandfather clocks stood next to vintage typewriters. Art deco lamps illuminated displays of costume jewelry. The air smelled like old paper and furniture polish and time itself.
An elderly man emerged from behind a tower of hatboxes, smiling broadly. He was probably in his seventies, with a shock of white hair and eyes that held the kind of sharpness that came from decades of spotting the valuable among the worthless.
“Welcome, welcome! I'm Noah.” He wiped his hands on his apron, covered in what looked like furniture polish stains. “Larry called ahead, said you were interested in timepieces?”
“Among other things.” Ruby stepped further into the store, her eyes catching on a stack of vintage travel posters. “This place is incredible.”
“Been collecting for forty years. Every piece has a story.” Noah's eyes sparkled behind wire-rimmed glasses. He had the energy of someone who genuinely loved what he did, who'd found his calling and never looked back. “Take your time, look around. Though I should mention, I’ve got a new shipment coming tomorrow morning. Estate sale from a collector in California. Some truly remarkable pieces.”
“No thank you,” Celeste said. “We really need to get going—”
Ruby made a soft hushing sound, cutting her short, before turning her attention back to the store owner. Estate sales were gold mines. “What kind of pieces?”
“Oh, all sorts. The man was a true collector. Jewelry, art, rare books and antique scientific instruments. He spent fifty years accumulating treasures from all over the world. There's a Victorian-era microscope I've been eyeing. And a set of first edition Dickens. Although I should mention—” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “There's a watercolor. French countryside, unsigned, but the technique is masterful. Been wondering about the artist for years. The collector never could figure it out either.”
Ruby's heart kicked against her ribs. She hadn't painted anything worthwhile in months, but she still knew good art when she heard about it. And the mystery of an unsigned piece, the story behind it, that was like catnip to her.
“What time does the shipment arrive?”
“Early. Seven AM. I like to get started before the day heats up.” Noah pulled out a worn leather notebook, flipping through pages covered in cramped handwriting and stapled photos. “Letme show you what else is coming. Art Nouveau lamp, Tiffany style. The collector swore it was authentic, but I'll need to verify. And there's a whole collection of antique keys. Skeleton keys, mostly. I've always been fascinated by keys—all the doors they've opened, all the secrets they've kept.”
