“Sorry to keep you waiting.” A thin older man with a full crop of white hair ambled into the room. He was slightly stooped and brushed dust from his hands as he walked.

“Hello, my name is Noelle McDowell,” she said. “We spoke yesterday.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Thom Sutton.” Thom stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Peter Bright.” His handshake was firm, belying his rather frail appearance. “I didn’t know if you’d make it or not, with the storm and all.”

“We’re grateful you’re open this close to Christmas,” Noelle told him.

“I don’t plan on staying open for long. But I wanted to escape the house for a few hours before Estelle found an excuse to put me to work in the kitchen.” He chuckled. “Would you like to take a look at the tea service?”

“Please.”

“I have it back here.” He started slowly toward the rear of the store; Thom and Noelle followed him.

Noelle reached for Thom’s hand again. Although he’d warned her against building up their expectations, he couldn’t help feeling a wave of anticipation.

“Now, let me see…” Peter mumbled as he began shifting boxes around. “You know, a lot of people tell me they’re coming in and then never show up.” He smiled. “Like I said, I didn’t really expect you to drive all the way from Rose in the middle of an ice storm.” He removed an ancient Remington typewriter and set it aside, then lifted the lid of an army-green metal chest.

“I’ve had this tea service for maybe twenty years,” Peter explained as he extracted a Navy sea bag.

“Do you remember how you came to get it?”

“Oh, sure. An English lady sold it to me. I displayed it for a while. People looked but no one bought.”

“Why keep it in the chest now?” Noelle asked.

“I didn’t like having to polish it,” Peter said. “Folks have trouble seeing past the tarnish.” He straightened and met Thom’s gaze. “Same with people. Ever notice that?”

“I have,” Thom said. Even on short acquaintance, he liked Peter Bright.

Nodding vigorously, Peter extracted a purple pouch from the duffel bag and peeled back the cloth to display a creamer. He set it on the green chest for their examination.

Noelle pulled the photograph from her purse and handed it to Thom, who studied the style. The picture wasn’t particularly clear, so he found it impossible to tell if this was the same creamer, but there was definitely a similarity.

The sugar bowl was next. Peter set it out, waiting for Thom and Noelle’s reaction. The photograph showed a slightly better view of that.

“This isn’t the one,” Noelle said. “But it’s close, I think.”

“Since you drove all this way, it won’t hurt to look at all the pieces.”