Chapter 16 - a knock at dusk
The interior of the antique shop smelled of beeswax, old paper, and sweet tobacco. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with artifacts from forgotten eras.
From behind a high counter at the back of the shop, an elderly man with thick spectacles and a silver pocket watch chain looped across his waistcoat looked up from an open book.
"We are closed for the evening, ladies," he said in a quiet, dry voice. "Unless you are delivering an item pre-arranged."
"Mr. Sterling?" I asked, stepping closer to the counter, keeping Sarah and Lily behind me. "Six months ago, you purchased a vintage quilt from a garage sale in the valley. It was hand-stitched, blue and white pattern, with an intricate floral border."
The old man adjusted his glasses, looking at us intently for a long moment. His eyes darted toward the front window before returning to my face. "A blue and white medallion quilt, three-layer cotton construction, double-stitched hem? Yes, I remember it quite well. It was an extraordinary piece of work. The stitching techniques were remarkably complex."
"Do you still have it?" Sarah asked, her voice tight with desperation. "I'll buy it back from you for double what you paid. Please, it's a family heirloom."
Mr. Sterling leaned back against his wooden stool, crossing his arms. "I'm afraid that is impossible, my dear. The quilt was sold three weeks ago to a private buyer who specifically requested items originating from the Eleanor Vance estate."
My heart sank into my stomach. "Who bought it?"
May you like
Before Mr. Sterling could answer, the glass bell above the front door chimed sharp and loud. A tall man in a dark tailored trench coat stepped inside, shaking the rain from his umbrella. His eyes were sharp, cold, and calculated as he swept his gaze across the room, fixing instantly on me.
"He did," Mr. Sterling said softly, pointing a pale finger toward the door.
