Annie thanked her, then wove around the shop, past clothing and kitchenware and trinkets from other people’s lives. She browsed through old books of Vineyard photography; she found a pair of candlesticks decorated with small plastic fish, a couple of nautical maps, a pair of signs that read THIS WAY TO THE BEACH and CALL US WHEN YOU GET TO THE BOAT. But nothing evoked the authentic island feeling she wanted for the Inn.

Annie wondered if Donna had ever thought about the people who’d owned the antiques that had filled her shop. Had she considered what the family had been like, whether they’d been happy or riddled with misfortune? Annie stopped in front of a sofa with white fabric that featured navy blue illustrations of sailboats and anchors. Had the family who owned it been part of the annual regatta? Or had they simply thought that an island house had to convey a water theme? Then Annie remembered when she and her dad had taken long walks after supper; he’d called them his “constitutionals.” Standing on the sidewalks, they’d tried to peer in windows when the lights were on but the drapes hadn’t yet been closed. Once they saw a father with a little girl. They were sitting on a sofa—brown plaid had been in vogue. Annie’s dad had made up a story: the girl’s father no doubt worked at the Necco plant in Cambridge, making sugary, pastel wafers. Annie had added that the daughter must be a Girl Scout like she was, and that the mother baked lots of yummy cakes or bought them at Star Market and pretended they were hers. On those walks, Annie and her dad had laughed a lot.

She wondered if Donna had baked cookies for Kevin or if she’d bought them at Star Market. Then Annie wondered why, with all she had to do, she was standing in the middle of the thrift shop, thinking about her birth mother. She supposed she’d get to know her sooner or later. Or not.

“Find anything?” The clerk was standing next to Annie.

She blinked, startled from her silly pondering. “Not really. I was reminiscing.”

“We get a lot of that in here.”

“I’m sure you do. But, no, I haven’t seen anything.”

“We have more plaques in the corner. ‘Home is where the Beach is,’ ‘Vineyard Magic,’ that sort of thing.”

Annie shook her head. “I don’t think so. We want to make a statement without saying it.”

The clerk nodded as if that made sense to her.

“Thanks, though. Maybe if I go to one of the gift shops I’ll get a better idea of what I want. Then I’ll be back.”