I’d been so excited to leave that I’d left early, and gotten into town long before Eszter’s last class. I dropped my bag in front of my favorite fireplace, and put on a pair of good walking shoes. Some exercise after the long drive was in order, and there was a delicious looking antique store downtown, that I’d spotted on my last visit.
Antique prices in Bear Valley were just as high, if not higher, than those in the Bay Area. Luckily for me, and my credit card, I wasn’t planning any big purchases. I didn’t particularly gladden the heart of any of the dealers, as I wiled away the afternoon, turning over blue and white transfer ware, spreading out dainty embroidered linens and checking the clasps on the backs of brooches for sturdy catches.
It wasn’t until I asked about old photographs, that I slipped my hand in my pocket to finger the two twenty dollar bills I’d budgeted.
“Hilda’s got some, I think.” The dealer had given up on me when I told her that I wasn’t interested in spending nineteen dollars for the antique, porcelain dog pin. The hound’s stance had reminded me of a dog I’d once known, but up close the face didn’t look like Freckles.
Vintage photographs are a particular passion of mine. I know lots of people enjoy them, but I’ve spent hours studying them. I’ve always had a feeling that I’m looking for one particular photo, that hasn’t quite turned up. But like the quintessential gambler, I always expect it to turn up the next time.
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.
to be continued
Please click on the photo above to enjoy more vintage details
