“A lot of these things can be catalogued by the local historical society. The medals are a mixed bag. This group here”—he indicated a collection of objects—“is probably only of limited interest and little to no value. They could be donated to the historical society or put on display here in the shop. They could be sold to collectors, or some might be traced to their ancestors. Anyway, most of these things are curiosities. With one very great exception.”

Jude took out a velvet-lined jeweler’s pad and laid a largish medal on it. “This one is different. It’s quite a find—a rare Dewey Medal engraved with the name of the recipient.” He turned it over to show her while he consulted his notes. “The medal was authorized by Congress in 1898 for men assigned to the ships of Dewey’s squadron that fought in the Battle of Manila Bay. Tiffany struck a limited number with a portrait of Admiral Dewey on the obverse. The name on the rim is Augustus Larrabee, Seaman, a member of the crew of the flagship Olympia. It’s rare and worth maybe twelve grand at auction.”

“That? Really?” Natalie leaned forward and studied the medal closely. She tried to picture the recipient, tucking the box away along with his memories of a war he’d fought in. Was he haunted by memories of the battle? Had he killed someone? Had he been wounded? Had he been proud of his role, or had he hidden the medal away because it was a reminder of trauma?

“There’s something else you should know about the Dewey Medal,” said Jude. “I found Mr. Larrabee’s family.”

“Tess mentioned that. You think they’re related?”

“Very likely.”

“Grandy, did you hear that?”

“I did,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “Shall we contact them?”

“That’s up to you.” She paused, looked over at Jude. “What do you think?”

“According to the standards of provenance, it belongs to the building, which belongs to your grandfather.”

“Grandy?”

He smiled. “It only seems proper to contact the family.”

Natalie studied the tarnished treasure. To someone, somewhere, the sentimental value might be beyond price, she reflected. People liked knowing where they came from. She thought about her mother’s mail-away DNA test. Had she been looking for something? Or just wondering?

Peach liked the bookstore job, and not only because it was a building full of secrets. He liked being around Natalie Harper, watching the way she studied a problem with deep absorption, considering it from all angles. He liked how she was with her old granddad, tender and patient.

Sometimes he wished he knew a way to lift her out of her melancholy, which she wore like a hand-knitted shawl around her shoulders.

Today, though, her mood was different. She flitted around the shop with an air of excitement, neatening the stacks of books and straightening the signs. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.