Gemma picked up a silver chain-link bracelet. “Actually, I need to go back to the city for a day or two next week. Can you and Jack manage in the shop without me? Maybe on Tuesday or Wednesday when things aren’t peak?”

“Sure,” Celeste said, glancing at her. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Gemma said quickly. “It’s just jewelry stuff.” Well, that much was true.

She examined a brooch shaped like a flower basket, wire inlaid with green and purple stones forming the petals.

“That’s a hand-wired Sandor brooch,” said a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a long braid watching from the corner. “From the 1950s.”

“Beautiful,” Celeste said, leaning over to examine it.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” the attendant said. “Everything in that section is twenty dollars. We can also do bundles.”

Gemma looked at a necklace of square-cut black glass. The segments were domed, with flat backs and set in black-painted metal. French jet. She’d take it if the price was right.

“So what’s your process here?” Celeste said.

“I look for pieces that can be turned into charms or rings. Like this necklace: I can break it apart, add a brass or silver hook to each individual piece of glass, and they can hang from any of my necklace or bracelet chains.”

“Such a fun idea. How long have you been doing this?”

Gemma smiled. “I mean, I’ve been making jewelry since I was a child. Even back when my mom and dad were around, I’d make necklaces for my Barbie dolls out of thread and tiny beads. I remember wanting to make her rings out of aluminum foil but the fingers on the doll weren’t articulated and it was so frustrating.”

“When did you start selling?” Celeste reached out and touched the subway token dangling from her necklace.

“Early in college. I spent every weekend scouring markets downtown or stoop sales in Brooklyn and Queens for knickknacks that could be turned into jewelry. I was always looking for pieces that could be personal to the wearer. Like this.” She picked up a small gold vermeil owl with blue glass eyes. “I add a hook, and voilà—an owl charm. Maybe it’s someone’s favorite animal, a good-luck charm of sorts.” She turned to the attendant. “How much are these?”

“Ten dollars each,” the woman said. “I’ll give you a ticket for all of your items when you’re finished and you pay at the front door.”

Even though Celeste insisted she was only there for Gemma and not to buy anything for the store (“Jack would have a fit!”), she drifted off to look at furniture.