13

I WAIT FIVE MINUTES, UNSURE IF HE’LL SHOW up, before I see Jasper pedaling toward me.

He comes to a stop and unbuckles his bike helmet. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I’ve never been here before.”

“It’s one of my favorite places,” I say.

He looks around the parking lot and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You brought the stuff we found?”

“I thought Archie—he owns the store—might resell it for us.”

Jasper shakes his head. “Not us. You. I’m just here for the adventure.”

“Why are you helping me anyway?” I ask.

“What else do I have to do?” He shrugs, hops off his bike, and heads toward the store. “You coming?” he asks. I hustle to catch up, sure he’s not telling me the whole truth about why he’s so ready to tag along.

The happy chimes on the door have hardly had a chance to quit ringing before Archie comes and wraps me in a hug. He likes to wear fancy clothes, so his hugs feel sort of like being rolled up in a wool blanket—comfy at first, then a little scratchy.

“Sorry I haven’t made it by lately,” I say.

“You know what, your Mom actually came in. I haven’t seen her in years.” Archie holds me by the shoulders and scans me from head to toe. “How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.”

Archie nods like he understands all I’m not saying. “I stopped by when he was in the hospital, and I’m planning on paying him a visit tomorrow at Whispering Pines. Just haven’t had a chance to make it over.” He turns toward Jasper. “And who’s this?”

“This is Jasper,” I say. “He’s primarily interested in books.” I realize that I’m not sure what else Jasper is interested in. “And science,” I add, but it sounds like a question.

Archie claps. “Oh, I have a treat for you. Follow me.” He scans Jasper’s outfit and says, “I have a hat collection in aisle four that might interest you.” Archie is older than Grampa, but he moves fast. He takes off before Jasper can answer.

I smile. At least something has stayed the same. “I’ll meet you there in a sec,” I say. Jasper nods and runs after Archie.

The glassware aisle still has many of the same things it did the last time I was here with Grampa. Still, I start my slow walk, opening my heart up. But it’s not working. Suddenly, I feel like coming was a bad idea. It’s not until I look down, trying to think up some excuse to leave, that I see patches of blue flash and fade on the floor. There on the very end of the shelf sit four heavy glass dessert bowls, the antique kind with a dish sitting on top of a pedestal, and so deep blue they immediately remind me of Mom’s A Night in Paradise table.

I pick one up and wait to see if I feel anything special. As I turn the glass, I think about Mom and how little she and I have in common. Maybe that could change. Maybe these bowls could be the first step. Maybe a change here and there wouldn’t be the worst thing.

They’re not exactly heart-find material, but they do spark some possibilities.

A few flea bites are scattered along the base of one, but the other three are perfect. A flea bite is glassware lingo for teeny, tiny chips—no actual bugs involved. Besides, Mom only has to do two place settings for the competition. If Lorna Diamond can win with vintage glass on her table, then why can’t Mom?

Jasper rounds a corner with an armload of books and a bowler hat balanced on top of his stack. “Whoa. Those are cool.” He nods toward the bowls.

I hold one in the light again and remind myself to remember he likes books, science, and hats. “Maybe they belonged to a duchess.”

Jasper’s eyes go wide. “An exiled duchess.”

I nod. “Or maybe they belonged to quadruplet sisters. One for each.”

Jasper’s big smile comes out. “Locked in a tower by an evil, exiled duchess.”

I hold one of the bowls close to his face. “And they eventually poison the duchess using this very vessel.”

Jasper shudders as he stares at the bowl. “Too real.”

We look up at each other and crack up laughing.

There’s one problem. The whole set is thirty-five dollars, which is a little high, but I don’t haggle over prices with Archie. Plus, I only have a twenty and I need to keep every last cent for Grampa.

“You go on and take those.” Archie makes his way toward us with a feather duster. “Your grampa always donates so much, I owe him.” He picks up the other two bowls and says, “Come on up to the register when you’re ready.”

“Archie really wanted me to pick a hat. What do you think?” I turn back to Jasper, and the hat’s pushed his curls over his face so that just his nose and big smile are showing.

He may be joking but I ask what Grampa would if he were here. “When you have it on do you feel different in a good way? Like wearing it makes you feel bigger inside?”

Jasper brushes his curls back. “You know, I think so.”

“Then you should get it.” I head to the register and Jasper follows.

As Archie wraps the dessert bowls, he says, “The previous owner told me that the cut in the glass is called Moon and Stars. And he gave me another story for my book.” Archie nods to the beat-up notebook he keeps by the register. “You find anything to add to yours lately?”

“What book?” Jasper asks. I almost shake my head at Archie. But instead, I bite my lip and hope for the best.

“Sometimes people have a hard time parting with something, and they have a special story they want to tell. An item can be a connection to someone or to an important moment.” Archie holds up the tattered composition notebook. “I write all their stories in here. A lot of times, I fill in the details. What Mabel’s Grampa would call my ‘right to historical whimsy.’” He tucks his notebook back behind the register.

I sigh with relief, but then he goes on. “Mabel keeps one too. She’s a true collector. I even told her my own story and am happy to have the honor of being her very first entry. She came up with the term heart find and I think it’s a perfect fit.” My cheeks are practically on fire. Archie looks over at me and winks.

I hold out my money, eager to change the topic. “Let me at least pay half.”

“Nope. I won’t take a penny. Maybe those dishes will end up being special for you.” He holds my hand for a second before giving it a squeeze and letting go.

Jasper pays for his books and his new hat, then clears his throat and nods toward my bike parked outside.

“Archie,” I say. “I have a favor to ask. I have some stuff that I was wondering if I could sell here. You can take a percentage of the profits.”

“That’s not normally how I do things.” Archie cranes his neck and looks out at my wagon. “Tell me what you’ve got.”

When I finish listing all we found, Archie says, “Brand-new baby merchandise would definitely sell.” He nods. “Go on and bring it in.”

Jasper and I carry in the milk crates, and Archie shows us where to unload them. Once we’re done, our items take up four shelves in the kids’ section.

“I’ll put the money aside for you,” Archie says. “And I won’t be taking any percentage.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.” This time I give him a hug before he beats me to it.

As we walk toward our bikes, Jasper says, “I like Archie. I think it’s cool that he keeps that notebook.” Jaspers motions to the front window. “That display shows he’s someone who likes a good story.”

“We work on the windows together. Grampa and I normally come here a few times a week.” It’s been a struggle to get back to thinking positive, but I’m close. “Hey, since I didn’t spend my money, want to go over to Joe’s and get some fries and a soda? My treat.” I point to Joe’s Diner a few doors down. After all Jasper’s done, I can spare a few dollars to say thank you.

Once we’re in a booth, Jasper sorts through his stack of paperbacks. “Look at this cover.” He holds up one called The Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge that shows a woman in a headdress of white feathers and pearls. “I couldn’t resist it. She’s giving off serious White Witch vibes.”

“You would’ve liked my mom’s Frozen Wonderland table. She made a centerpiece that looks a lot like that fancy bonnet but crammed in a vase.”

Jasper laughs. “So, my mom has your mom’s business card. How exactly does someone become a ‘table setting artist’?”

I shrug. “A lifelong love of perfection and competition? Everything has to be just so. If a soup spoon is a fraction of an inch out of place, it’s counted off the score.”

“Really?” He takes a fry and blows on it before dipping it in so much ketchup it droops.

I nod. “She’s judged on creativity, originality, use of color, interpretation of theme, correctness, and presentation. One year, my mom lost first place because her butter-spreading knife wasn’t exactly at a forty-five-degree angle across the bread plate.” I switch to a whisper. “She even has a nemesis.”

Jasper leans over. “Like an archenemy?”

“Yep. This one lady beats her every time. Not by much. But that doesn’t seem to matter.” I take a slurp of my soda. “Mom has regionals near the end of October, and if she places there, she’ll be able to do the National Expo the week after that. It’s what she calls ‘The Big Show.’ Years of trying and she’s never made it in before.” I grab the ketchup. “Hey, why are you really helping me? Also, the bowler hat looks good. Did you know the bowler hat was more popular in the West than the cowboy hat or the sombrero? Everybody wore them, from Charlie Chaplin to Billy the Kid. One of Charlie Chaplin’s sold at auction for almost seventy thousand dollars.”

“That’s why I’m helping you. That right there.” Jasper laughs, leans forward, looks me straight in the eye, and adjusts his glasses. “I moved from Chicago a few months ago. And I hated it here. No Lake Michigan, no Harold Washington Library, no deep dish.” He looks out the window a minute and I wonder if he’s thinking no friends or if that’s just me. He motions to the short one-story buildings and parking lots. “Everything’s just so… ordinary. But, I don’t know, you make ordinary seem unusual. Sounds like your mom does too.”

I snort. “My mom and I aren’t all that much alike.”

Jasper shrugs. “Anyways, you’re not the first person to call me different. I’ve always been able to get along better with grown-ups like my mom’s patients. I like a person who isn’t afraid to be themself.”

My cheeks warm. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear someone say they liked me. “Do you want to go? To the competition, I mean.” I ask before I think it through. “I’ll have to check with my mom, but she probably won’t care.”

“Why not?” Jasper says, and shows me that big smile of his again.

On the way home, I bike past four dumpsters all lined up in the strip mall’s parking lot and think of the four dessert bowls tucked away in my bag and the four shelves full of my baby stuff. Today, it finally feels like something amazing could be waiting just around the corner. All I have to do is keep looking.