“Wink, thank you for returning the sticker book. I’m sorry to hear about your situation. Tell you what. If you’ll come back later today, around three o’clock, I’ll give you a job. The UPS man arrives then and you can help carry the boxes into the shop. I’ll pay you and you can buy yourself a present here. I’ll give you a discount so you can buy something nice.”

Wink stared at her as if she’d just grown another head. “What if you have the police here?” Her voice quavered and she flushed at the telltale anxiety in her voice.

“You didn’t steal the stickers. You put them back.” Something in her wanted to give this girl her dignity. “Wink, this is a serious offer. I need the help.”

She chewed on her lip, thinking. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll be back at three.”

She sauntered out of the shop, her shoulders just a little bit straighter.

—

At noon, Christina put a WILL RETURN IN THIRTY MINUTES sign on her door, locked it, and went across the brick avenue to Mimi’s Seaside Souvenirs. Mimi Mattes, Jacob Greenwood, and Harriet Colby were already there, gathered in the windowless back room where Mimi had set up folding chairs among the cardboard packing boxes.

They comprised an informal group they called the Shedders because they each rented one of the weathered, shingled sheds on the wharf that extended out over the water.

Their shops were each a single quaint—and quaint was a compliment—room. Years ago, fishermen had tied up their boats to this wharf and lugged their catches into the relative shelter of these shingled buildings to clean and dress for sale. Later, the long pier was surfaced with bricks, the sheds were turned into shops, and the Hy-Line ferry arrived, carrying people to and from the mainland several times a day.

Because of the ferry, the little sheds were great places for tourists to browse and find one last Nantucket gift to take home. The bad news was the sheds weren’t insulated or centrally heated. There was electricity, of course, and behind their counters the shopkeepers each had a small electric oil-filled heater that made the fiercest winter days tolerable.

Mimi had the biggest shed so the Shedders met there for a quick lunch most days, exchanging gossip and helpful information. The chamber of commerce had a message system to alert merchants of potential shoplifters, and Christina wasn’t sure whether to inform them about the girl.

Huddled next to the heater, Christina described her confrontation with the child.

“Poor child,” Mimi Mattes sighed. In her fifties, widowed, Mimi was as round and cheerful as a snowwoman, with short, curly white hair and sparkling blue eyes. “You did the right thing, Christina. I don’t think we need to send out an alert.”