A delivery truck pulled up to the rear entrance of Cullen Bodman’s restoration workshop. He wasn’t expecting anything, but the driver handed him a printed version of the bill of lading and began to haul a crate with a dilapidated steamer trunk off the back of the van’s motorized lift. Cullen eyed the document. It was addressed to him, but there was no return label. He looked up at the deliveryman. “Do you know where this came from? There’s no return address.”

The guy shrugged. “I picked it up at the hub. It was on my route ticket.” He stopped at the door. “Where do you want it?” Cullen looked around the workshop, pointed to a space against the far wall, and moved out of the way.

“Is there some way I can find out where this came from?”

“Beats me.” The guy wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Please sign this.” He handed Cullen an electronic clipboard and a stylus. Cullen scribbled his name and repeated the question. He didn’t get any further.

“You can call the dispatcher if you want.” The driver turned, hopped into his vehicle, and drove off, leaving a very perplexed Cullen standing in the doorway.

* * *

Like clockwork, Luna Bodhi Bodman arrived at the café at her typical time, nine A.M. On her way, she stopped at the Flakey Tart and picked up her usual basket of scones and muffins. Even though the Tart had its own kiosk at the art center, Luna served their delicious delights with coffee and tea during the day.

At the age of thirty-three, she was a dabbler in paranormal psychology and an amateur medium. Dabbled is probably an understatement. She didn’t want her unconventional way of thinking and feeling to be a detriment to her brother’s restoration business. But she certainly looked the part of a New Age psychic if there was such a thing. Her hippie wardrobe, waist-length hair, and granny glasses were a huge clue that she was not your run-of-the-mill barista. The café had been her brother’s idea. She had agreed to run it because doing so gave her the opportunity to do her readings as well as be of assistance to him. Plus, with the café being right next door to his shop, he could keep an eye on her. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself. But Luna had a way of generating more excitement than was either necessary or expected. But that, too, was part of her charm.

In addition to the readings her unconventional talent allowed her to engage in, she was an artist and design consultant. When called upon, she worked with her brother Cullen, assisting customers engaged in redecorating or refurbishing parts or all of their homes.