“Remember how you used to golf together.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder if Greg still plays.”

“I see him out at the club every now and then,” Jake told her.

“Does he speak to you?”

“Yes.”

Sarah was comforted knowing that. “I’m glad.”

“So am I,” her husband said, then kissed her goodnight.

On December twenty-third, Thom’s office was running on a skeleton crew. His secretary was in for half a day and he immediately handed her the assignment of locating every antique store in a hundred-mile radius.

He’d called his father before eight that morning. “Tell me what you know about Mom’s old tea service.”

“Tell you what I know?” he repeated. “It was stolen, remember?”

“I realize that,” Thom said impatiently.

“What makes you ask?”

“I thought I’d buy her a replacement for Christmas.”

“Don’t you think you’re leaving your shopping a little late?”

“Could be.” Thom didn’t feel comfortable sharing what this was really about, but he was going to do whatever he could to replace that damn tea service.

“I think we might have a picture of it somewhere.”

Thom perked up.

“For years your mother looked for a replacement, you know. We hadn’t actually taken a picture of the tea set, but it was in the background of another photograph.”

Thom remembered now. His parents had the photo enlarged in order to get as much detail as possible.

“Do you still have the photograph? Or better yet, the enlargement?”

“I think it might be around here somewhere. I assume you need this ASAP.”

“You got it.”

“Well, I promised to drive your mother out to the Women’s Century Club this morning and then to the grocery store. You’re welcome to stop by the house and look.”

“Where do you figure it might be?”

His father considered that for a moment. “Maybe the bottom drawer of my desk. There are a few old photographs there. That’s my best suggestion.”

“Anyplace else I should look?”

“Your mother’s briefcase. Every once in a while she visits an antique store, but for the most part she’s given up hope. She’s still got her name in with several of the bigger places. If anything even vaguely similar comes in, the stores promised to give her a call.”

“Has she gotten many calls?”

“Only two in all these years,” his father told him. “Both of them excited her so much she could barely sleep until she’d checked them out. They turned out to be completely the wrong style.”

Thom didn’t know if he’d have any better success, but he had to try.

“Good luck, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

As soon as he hung up, Thom called Noelle’s cell phone. She answered right away.

“Morning,” he said, warming to the sound of her voice. “I hope you’re free to do a bit of investigating.”