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As I reached behind the art deco lamp and drew out the antique secretary box that Hilda pointed out, something inside me quivered. There was a something in this box, that was meant just for me.
The sensation reminded of a popular British mystery series my mother likes to read. The detective is an antiques dealer who has a sixth sense for the truly valuable, the one in a thousand true finds. She always feels a sudden tingling in her flesh when she touches something old that is truly unique. And of course that same little bit of e.s.p. always led her to discern who-done-it. I had tried one of the books and found myself unable to buy into the fantasy of the psychic reaction. Now my own skin was prickling.
I was sure I could feel something pulsing as I began thumbing through the old ivory edges in their plastic sleeves. The light was so dim in my corner of the shop, that I could barely make out the images of European castles, outsized pieces of fruit and scenic wonders of the western United States.
By the time I got to the very last card in the box, my hand was actually shaking. The card had fallen over onto it’s face and lay wedged against the back of the box. I’d known all along that this was it, the quest for this object had drawn me to this shop.
Was it a mistake that had positioned the card like this, I wondered? Or had some unseen presence hiding the image from a chance glance placed it there, just for me to find? Carefully, I dug the card out and, still keeping it upside down, I walked across the store to lay my find atop a red lacquer table that stood beneath an art deco skylight. Very slowly, I turned the plastic wrapped image over.
A beautiful, ribbon bedecked pig smiled up at me. So much for my spiritual quest.
“Did you find something, you liked?” Hilda was at my elbow, eyeing the red lacquered table in an appraising manner.
I picked up the card and pointed to it’s $3.95 tag. “Yes. My daughter has a collection of vintage Lucky Pig cards. She ought to like this one.”
“Oh yes? Did you look through that whole drawer? I just got that batch of cards in a few days ago. Maybe whoever brought them in was a collector as well. I’ll tell you what, you write down your name and email and I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you.”
As I followed her back to the counter I guessed that any future lucky pigs were going to cost me more than a nickel short of four bucks. Really the mystical spirit that moved me had been my daughters pig collection! Did I not have a life?
The two dealers were examining an old Raleigh bike in the front of the shop when I went up to pay for my solitary card.
“They just never believe me when I tell them I can’t pay more than forty or fifty dollars for an early twentieth century bike! It’s ninety years old and it works. Must be worth a fortune!”
“Especially since that article in the local about that Sudbo that turned up. Didn’t somebody pay ten thousand for it? Well you never know, Gail. Maybe somebody will bring us in one of those next. After all, he did build a hundred of them. There might just be another one in a shed somewhere that didn’t make it to the scrap yard.”
“Stranger things have happened. Hey, speaking of hot finds, did you hear that “County Pickers” got-“
I tuned out the two dealers fond hopes, and went on my way with my solitary pig card rattling around in it’s paper bag. Ezter had better appreciate it. I was starting to laugh at myself for putting together my fantasy discovery story. I’d wanted to see my daughter and made up an excuse to make it happen. I wondered what specials were on the menu at the Bear Valley Diner.
Over a a late lunch for me, and a very early supper for my daughter, I heard about Ezter’s three new clients at the gym. Two had asked for her by name. She had changed her major from business to sports nutrition that semester, and the new job was about all she seemed to think about, or at least it was all she was willing to tell her mother about.
I remembered the lucky pig card, midway through the apple cobbler à la mode. My daughter examined it briefly and dropped it casually in a plastic envelope in her purse. “Don’t lose it I snapped I paid $3.95 for it. When you decide to sell that prize collection of yours, in twenty years it could be worth $4.50.”
“Why are you being crabby, Mom? Bet you didn’t get enough exercise with driving down and all.” Besides, she added practically, they don’t put out the free cookies in your hotel until 4 o’clock.”
My daughter, the personal trainer was probably right. A walk after a big meal was always a good idea. And I still had that deflated feeling, as though something, but what I didn’t know, hadn’t panned out.
“Where do you want to go? Monterey?”
Monterey Street contained three of Ezter’s favorite clothing stores.
“I knew what’ll happen if we go that way. Let’s shop for you tomorrow morning before I leave. You probably need two new pairs of workout pants and at least three of those sixty dollar lace bras that last about four months.”
She wrinkled her nose but gave in.
“What about that area around the mission? I’ve got to drive down there on a field trip for my architecture class tomorrow afternoon, and I need to figure out where we’re going and if there’s parking.”
“Field trip on a Saturday?”
She shrugged. “It was the only time everybody could go. We’re not weekend slugs like when you were in college, Mom. You have no idea how much harder it is to be a student than it was when you were one.”
I kept my mouth firmly closed, having heard it before.
Reads very smoothly, I really liked it...it made me want to read the next chapter!!!
ReplyDeleteAnd just because YOU asked, I posted what's next.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Bud!!!