– C H A P T E R I –
It was spring, and Dan Young’s
front yard dogwood was showing the tips of its taupe blossoms.
Normally Dan didn’t give domestic shrubs or trees or gardens
a second thought. But Tess’ favorite tree had been their
dogwood, planted on their first anniversary, and that made every
dogwood important.
Here, not two feet from his nose,
someone else’s early blooming dogwood grew outside the window
of the antique shop. The small, downtown store had a timeless
feel to it—reminding him that there were those certain moments
that could make a person’s destiny. Dan wondered if this
were one of those moments, for he carried $500,000 in cash in
his leather briefcase. It was an extraordinary sum and he was
delivering it to a rather unusual person.
Amid the store’s velvety brown
hues of old wood, the smells of scented polish and beeswax, shoppers
talked in lower tones and seldom let
|
their cigarette ash hit the floor. The place
exuded personality. When he had stepped inside to kill some time,
Dan instantly knew that the proprietor’s hand was connected
to his heart instead of his wallet. In this small town by the
sea, where the locals made lumber, caught fish, worked for the
government, or catered to the tourists, and consequently had modest
budgets, such a store could have been more profitably filled with
cheap furniture sold on easy terms.
A freestanding armoire from Gascogny,
France, shone with quiet grandeur. According to the placard it
had been hand made in the mid-1800s. Beside the armoire hung the
object of his attention—a photograph, seemingly yellowed
with age. It intrigued him. He’d been around the perimeter
of the place twice—the consequence of being early—and
this was his third time back to the narrow space in front of the
photo.
The photo had been taken in black and
white, probably with a large lens box camera manu-
factured around the turn of the century.
Next Page
|