“Oh, I wish you’d told me,” Celeste said. “I would have . . . Were they really that expensive?” Maybe she could go back for something and send it to her. She thought of the extravagant pieces Gemma’s mother used to wear—five-carat diamond earrings for a day at the beach—and yet this young woman wouldn’t buy fake jewelry at a house sale.

“It’s fine,” Gemma said with a wave. “I don’t wear that stuff. But I studied a lot of jewelry design history and some of the artisans working with non-precious stones were the most inventive. I admire their work.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, looking at Gemma with interest. “You know a lot about antiques?”

“Just antique jewelry,” she said.

“We do need a new part-timer . . .” he said.

Celeste glared at him. How could he make such a suggestion without discussing it with her first? She’d told him she felt uncomfortable with her family around. She had no interest in turning a casual visit into an employment situation.

“Gemma’s leaving tomorrow,” Celeste said quickly.

Gemma sipped her wine, placing the glass down carefully on the wooden table and not the runner. “Actually, Aunt Celeste, I was rethinking your offer. About staying longer. I really don’t have anything to rush back to. I can manage my Instagram from anywhere, and if you need help in your store, I’m happy to pitch in.”

So this was happening. Paulina’s daughter was moving into her house and working at her store.

“Glad this worked out,” Jack said, pushing his seat back and collecting a few plates. “You two can chat about the details. I’ll go fetch the pie.”

28

Customers want to feel like they’re buying something with history,” Alvie said. “Do you know the difference between an antique and a collectible?”

“Yes. Age.”

Gemma had a lot to learn about the shop, and Alvie was an eager guide. She walked Gemma through every table, piece after piece, sharing encyclopedic knowledge about each one.

“Exactly. For something to qualify as antique, it has to be a hundred years old at least. Anything ‘younger’ is considered a collectible. We sell both.”

“Did you study antiques in school? How did you get into this?” Gemma said.

“I learned everything from your aunt. Absolutely everything,” Alvie gushed. “I can’t pretend that I can teach you all you need to know in one day. You have to just be here and absorb.”

When customers wandered in, Alvie greeted them with enthusiasm and made sweeping declarations like, “Vintage copper is back!” In between, she grilled Gemma about her connection to Celeste.

“My mother was her sister. But after my parents died I was raised by my father’s family, away from the Pavlins.”

“That’s so Dickensian. So romantic.”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s really not.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”