“No. He never was one for the Sunday service, so when Mama quit, he didn’t press.”

Talley walked into the room and skimmed her fingers over the boxes. “And this is full of things people just forgot?”

Ruth reached for the box labeled 1946. Four years seemed enough time for someone to completely forget what had been lost. She set the box under the light bulb and removed the top. She pulled out a few blouses, hats, a pair of sunglasses, and a toy soldier.

Talley held up a pink-and-white checkered top. “Someone forgot this? It’s so nice.”

“Yeah. If you see anything you want, take it. Mama won’t mind.”

“You sure? Someone might see me wearing it and claim I’m stealing.”

“How can you steal what was left behind? If they cared, they’d have come for it by now, the way I see it.”

The box didn’t have any books, so she reached for the next container. There was a straw hat with a slightly frayed edge that Ruth insisted Talley would need for walks on the beach. As Talley settled the hat on her head, she spotted Georgette Heyer’s Penhallow.

Talley’s eyes lit up. “It’s nearly perfect, barely a page bent. I’ve read my books so many times I need a rubber band to keep the pages from falling out.”

Finding no more books, Ruth closed up the box and reached for another. “What’s that book about?”

“It’s a mystery.”

“Like your pal Nancy?”

Talley carefully thumbed through the yellowed pages. “I don’t know.”

Ruth opened another box from 1949 and dug her hands into a sea of fabric, hats, and scarves, until her fingers skimmed the binding of another book. She handed the well-used paperback to Talley.

“Forever Amber,” she said as she marveled at the gowned woman on the cover. Several corners were dog-eared, and the pages in the bottom-right corner rippled as if they had gotten splashed by the pool.

Ruth closed up the box and in another found a detective story with a scowling man holding a gun on the cover. “Maybe you shouldn’t show Mama this book until after you’ve read it. She might take exception to the gun.”

Talley held the three books close. “I’ll give them back as soon as they’re read.”

“Read them as much as you want. Just don’t tell Mama about the one with the gun.”

“Is not telling lying, or is it just not telling?”

“You can tell Mama anything you want, but if I was you, I’d wait until I read those books.”

Talley looked thoughtful. “Better late than never.” She held up the blouse. “Should I put this back? Your mama might not like seeing me wear it.”

“No, she won’t worry about that. But she might worry about a book putting an idea in your head.”

“What kind of an idea?” Talley asked.

The two stepped out of the shed. Ruth shut off the light, closed the door, and replaced the padlock and key. “I don’t know. She says that to me when I draw. She says it might put ideas in my head. Makes me dream for what I can’t have. Which it does. It stuffs my head so full of ideas and dreams they barely have elbow room.”