Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(77)

Caroline shook her head. “Not that I can recall.”

“Hmmm.” A puzzled look settled on Wilbur’s face. “Do you know what these are?”

“Investment bonds?”

“Not just bonds,” Wilbur said. “Bearer bonds.”

“Bearer bonds?”

Wilbur nodded. “Bonds that have no listed owner. They belong to whoever has them.”

“But I have them.”

Wilbur nodded again. “Yes, you do.”

“That can’t be right,” Caroline stammered. “Why would anyone give me—”

“That’s something I can’t answer,” Wilbur said. He slid the bonds into the envelope and handed it back to her. “You’ll have to talk to your Mister Pennington.”

“That’s my next stop,” Caroline said and dropped the envelope into her tote.

~

It was close to eleven when Caroline left the hospital and drove to the center of town. She parked across the street from Previously Loved Treasures but sensed something was different. Peter, who always seemed to know when she’d be arriving, was not standing out front waiting to greet her, and the interior of the store appeared dark.

Thinking her sunglasses responsible for the blackened shadows, she pulled them off and slid them into her pocket. The dark interior remained the same. Caroline crossed the street and could now see the windows were empty of merchandise. No chairs, bits of jewelry, china dishes, or lace doilies. And the window was dirty, covered with soot and grime that looked years old.

Something was very wrong. Peter Pennington kept the glass so clean it sparkled in the sunlight. Caroline reached out and tried the handle of the door. Locked.

Peter was not a young man. Possibly he was sick; maybe he’d fallen and was in need of help. Caroline rattled the door. “Anybody here?”

Silence was the only answer.

For ten, maybe fifteen, minutes she stood there banging on the door, rattling the knob and calling out Peter Pennington’s name, but still there was no answer. Feeling frustrated and helpless, she walked to the dry cleaner two doors down.

“Excuse me,” she said to the woman behind the counter. “I’m looking for Peter Pennington. Do you know if something’s happened to him?”

The woman shrugged. “Can’t help you, honey. Afraid I don’t know this Mister Pennington.”

“He’s the man who owns the Previously Loved Treasures shop.”

The woman shook her head. “Not familiar with that one.”

“It’s the second-hand store.” A thread of impatience crept into Caroline’s words. “Two doors down, this side of the street.”

The woman shook her head and shrugged again.

“The green building on the corner!”

The woman chuckled. “Shoot, sweetie, that old place’s been empty for years. Nobody’s been there for who knows how long.”

“But he was,” Caroline argued. “Peter Pennington was there and he had all kinds of stuff—used furniture, watches, clothes even.”

“You sure you got the right town?” the woman asked.

“I’m positive,” Caroline replied. “I’ve been there several times. I bought a used desk, a watch, a box of clothes—”

“Maybe you’re thinking of Saint Vincent’s Thrift Shop. That’s two blocks down and left on Foster Street—”

“No,” Caroline said hopelessly. “It was right here on the corner.”

For almost a minute nothing more was said. Droop-shouldered and feeling deflated, Caroline stood there hoping time would change the answer but it didn’t.

When a young man came in carrying a bundle of shirts, the woman looked at Caroline one last time. “Check with Fritzi over at the beauty parlor,” she said. “Fritzi knows most everything that goes on in town.”

Caroline did try Fritzi, and she also tried Herb at the hardware store and Mildred from the supermarket. The answer was always the same. No one had ever heard of a Peter Pennington or seen the Previously Loved Treasures shop.

In a last-ditch effort to find Peter, Caroline stopped at the Saint Vincent Thrift Shop. “Have you ever heard of Previously Loved Treasures?”

The girl behind the counter laughed. “Of course I have. We’ve got tons of previously loved things. What exactly were you looking for?”

“A man called Peter Pennington,” Caroline answered.

“A man,” the girl said. “Well, now, that’s one thing we don’t have.”

Caroline returned to the little corner building and pressed her nose to the glass. “Where are you, Peter?” she said tearfully. “Were you ever really here?” A stream of tears rolled down her face as she peered into the empty store.

A stretch of bare shelves lined the wall, and the counter was covered with a layer of dust. There was no evidence that there had ever been a Previously Loved Treasures shop. And yet Caroline knew better. She could so vividly remember Peter Pennington’s mischievous smile, the kindness with which he spoke, the sage advice he’d given, and his gift—the picture she carried in her tote.

Caroline cupped her hands around her eyes and looked through the window. At first the store seemed empty, totally empty, but then she saw a glint of light at the far end of the shelves. A spot of yellow. She pressed closer to the glass and focused her eyes on the spot. Slowly it took shape; it was a yellow step stool. The yellow step stool Peter used to retrieve treasures from the higher shelves.