The vase had a crack running from rim to base, thin as a hair and twice as stubborn. Sally turned it slowly under the light, tilting it until the flaw caught the gray San Francisco afternoon coming through the tall windows. Fixable. Everything in this shop was fixable, given enough patience and the right pair of hands.

She set it down on the counter and straightened up, pressing both palms into the small of her back. Preston Antiquities had the scent it always did—old wood, metal polish, and the faint ghost of her father's pipe tobacco, though he'd quit years before he died. She'd never had the heart to air it out completely.

The fog had rolled in thick off the bay, turning the street outside into a watercolor. Through the window, Hot Brew glowed amber across the road, Kelly's lunch rush just visible through the glass—heads bent over laptops, hands wrapped around mugs, the reliable choreography of people who needed caffeine and a reason to leave the house.

From the workroom came a sound—a very small, very precise argument between a metal tool and an inanimate object.

"Bobby." Sally didn't raise her voice. The shop wasn't big enough to require it.

"One minute." He stopped abruptly. "Thirty seconds."

"I didn't actually ask you anything."

"Pre-emptive."

She smiled and picked up the vase once more.

Bobby Somers emerged two minutes later, which was close enough. He had neon blue hair, a goatee that had opinions about itself, and a Metallica shirt that had survived more estate clearances than most antiques. A pair of fine-tipped tweezers stuck out of his breast pocket. He looked, as always, as if he'd taken a wrong turn at a music festival and ended up somewhere better.

"The Edwardian letter box is fighting me." He dropped onto his usual stool behind the register and reached for the mug he'd been nursing since they'd opened. "It's got a secondary lock mechanism that isn't in any of the catalogs. I think someone added it in the thirties. Maybe forties."

"Is it a problem?"

"No, it's incredible." He took a long sip and grimaced. "I just want to understand it before I touch it."

This was Bobby's version of a normal Tuesday.

Sally's phone buzzed next to her elbow. She glanced at it without picking it up, which was how she'd been handling Axel's messages since yesterday.