“If you’re bringing me some old movie poster or a porcelain doll, you can forget it. I’m up to my neck in goddamned porcelain dolls. And I don’t want to deal with paper goods. They don’t hold up, too much salt and water in the air.”

“No dolls. I’m here as a customer today.”

“A customer? That’s rich.”

I didn’t say anything, but crouched to look at the sleeves in a box of old records.

“Where’s Des been? Haven’t seen either of you around much lately.”

“Des? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“So, what are you looking for, anyway?” He must have felt sorry for me—his voice had softened.

I glanced at the trays of rings. The blonde woman had that pale band of skin on her finger. She had rubbed it as she spoke. “Hey. Has anyone pawned any wedding rings here lately?”

“By lately you mean what, today?”

“Like three weeks ago. A woman. Sandy-blonde hair. About as long as mine. Locket around her neck.”

“How do you know that? She steal something that you stole first? She was real shifty when she came in. I would have rather had that necklace, to be honest. You have no idea how many wedding rings walk in here each week. Lockets, not so much.”

“Which ring was it?”

“Christ, you think I remember?”

“Zeg, I know you remember.”

He sighed, produced another tray from the case, scanned the rows of rings. I thought of the reading I gave her: the Four of Wands, the happy home life. That ring had meant something to her, once. Zeg plucked a gold band from the tray and handed it to me. It had a pattern of tiny flowers engraved on the outside. I tilted it to get a look at the inside. In scrolling cursive: Victoria and Zachary, 7-13-14. I felt gratified that the reading had been accurate, until I realized that also meant there was something bad waiting for her.

“Victoria,” I said out loud. I don’t know why it felt so good to have a name—a name didn’t tell me anything else about her, didn’t help explain where she had come from, why she had been so nervous around me, or where she had gone. It didn’t explain why, after she came to me, I saw images of her baby, heard its cries rip through my brain. But it was some sort of comfort, one more thing that helped make her feel real.

“You done with that?” Zeg asked.

I held the ring in my palm, traced it with my fingertip, then clicked it onto the counter. “Yeah. But what can I get for twenty bucks?”

“Nothing.”