With the Leica camera tucked in her purse, she slid behind the wheel of her van, now fully packed with items for the thrift store. Ten minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the one-story cinder block building and opened the back of her van. The first garbage bag she hefted from the back was overstuffed with hotel sheets and towels. She waddled to the front door, balanced the bag on her knee, and opened the door. Bells jingled above her head. A gray-haired woman behind the long front counter came around. “Honey, you can put that right over here.”

“Thanks.” She let the weight drop. “I’ve got a few more.”

“Getting ready for a renovation?” the woman asked.

“Selling the house,” she said.

“Well, this is the time to do it. It’s a buyer’s market. Where’s your property?”

“Remember the Seaside Resort?”

Her eyes grew wistful. “Sure. Ruth’s place.”

“I’m her granddaughter. I’m selling her cottage.”

“Ivy Neale?”

“Yes.”

“The last time I saw you, you were in high school.”

Ivy searched her memory and conjured vague recollections of working a charity fundraiser at the Seaside Resort. “We were raising money for this store.”

“That’s right. Ruth didn’t charge us a dime for the rental and refreshments.”

“Wow. That was kind of her.”

“She did that a lot. Hated it when people made a fuss.”

Ivy remembered now. Ruth had paid Ivy for working the event. “I didn’t realize.”

“My husband and I loved the Seaside Resort. We celebrated our anniversary there right up until last year. He loved the fried chicken.”

“Mrs. Cooper, right?”

The woman smiled. “Good memory.”

“You always asked for a table by the window.”

“We loved the view. Best in the area.” She leaned forward a fraction. “I thought the food was never the same after you left. Ruth was always bragging on your cooking. In New York City, right?”

She had assumed no one had noticed when she left the hotel kitchen. “That’s right.”

“Well, from what I remember of your cooking, you won’t have any trouble getting work. Maybe you should open a place here.”

“That’s an idea,” she said out of politeness.

When Mrs. Cooper began to speak, Ivy held up a hand. “Hold that thought. Be right back with more stuff.” She was out the door and soon back with two more bags. By the time she was finished, ten bags clustered around the desk.

The woman came around the corner. “What do you have here?”

“Lots of towels, table linens, and sheets from the Seaside Resort. They’re all in great shape. Some clothes. My grandmother saved everything.”

“Do you want a receipt?” Mrs. Cooper asked.

“No, thanks. Just hope they’re of some use. Ruth would have been glad to know they helped someone.”