Gemma drifted into the next room, where tables were covered end-to-end with trays of costume jewelry. She picked up a sterling silver and rhinestone owl, and a small brass stamped cat with green stones set as the eyes. She found an elaborate collar that looked like French poured glass, with cut and carved glass beads shaped like leaves with oval beads at the end. It resembled the work done by Gripoix for Chanel, but she knew it probably wasn’t.

Gemma snapped a photo, adjusted the contrast, and posted it to Instagram with the caption Treasure hunting.

She walked back across the hall to find Celeste.

“This stuff is cool,” she said, showing her the rhinestone owl. “And this pin . . . amazing.” It was a painted enamel flower with pavé set rhinestones.

“I don’t sell jewelry at the shop,” Celeste said quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. But why not?”

“That was my family’s business—not mine.”

Okay.

Gemma returned to the jewelry tables and couldn’t resist other trinkets: an emerald-cut piece of white glass set in silver, a blue cabochon glass bead that looked like turquoise but wasn’t, a two-inch gold egg decorated with swirls of color, a beaded necklace that looked like jade but was probably just glass. All of them would make great charms. She’d just need to create some bezels and hooks.

And then she saw a piece that froze her hand midair: a metal butterfly brooch. It was an earthy coral color, probably copper.

A copper butterfly, she said to herself, incredulous at the find. Her mother’s favorite creature was the copper butterfly, a species so common in the Northeast that the Pavlin Hamptons house had been overrun with them during her mother’s childhood summers. Her mother loved all animals and animal imagery. She used to have little figurines on her bedroom dresser, some crystal, some silver, some carved wood. A butterfly represented transformation.

She felt like it was a sign. Maybe she’d been too quick to turn down her aunt’s offer to stay a little longer. What if she spent a week or two scouring local antiques shops and estate sales while she figured out her next move?

Besides, she still hadn’t given up on finding a clue about her mother’s engagement ring. As long as Elodie was still in town, she shouldn’t be in such a rush to leave.

Maybe Elodie should see that she wouldn’t be that easy to get rid of. Not this time.

27

Lidia insisted on giving her a ride to the beach. She drove a battered pickup truck, and Elodie settled in the passenger seat with Pearl on her lap. Heading down Commercial, she felt every bump in the road. She realized she hadn’t seen a single traffic light in town.

“So you met my brother-in-law, Tito?” Lidia said.

“Yes. We walked our dogs together.”