Page 18 of Knot Your Karma
She’s enjoying this way too much. I count my breathing—in for four, hold for four, out for four—trying not to hyperventilate on her doorstep.
“Please, come in.” Sage gestures us inside with a theatrical flourish. “I do so love reuniting people with lost family pieces. There’s something so poetic about things finding their way back to where they truly belong.”
The workshop is exactly what I expected—controlled chaos of antique pieces, restoration supplies, and the kind of expensive equipment that suggests she makes very good money at whatever she actually does. The air smells like old wood, metal polish, and something floral and expensive.
Sage settles behind an ornate desk that probably costs more than my shop’s monthly revenue, positioning herself like a queen holding court. I sit on the very edge of my chair, and the leather squeaks every time I move. Which is constantly, because I can’t seem to stop fidgeting.
Squeak when I cross my legs. Squeak when I uncross them. Squeak when I try to find a position that doesn’t make noise.
Declan sits with that confident alpha posture, completely at ease.
“Now then,” Sage says, her manicured fingers drumming against the desk like she’s conducting a symphony of my discomfort. “About this compass you’re looking for.”
“You said you might have information,” Declan says, pulling out his phone. “I can show you the insurance photos?—”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Sage waves dismissively, leaning back in her chair with feline satisfaction. “I know exactly which compass you mean. Quite distinctive piece. Brass with maritime engravings, family inscription about true north and finding home. Beautifully crafted, obviously well-loved. Am I correct?”
She knows exactly which compass because I sold it to her three months ago. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out the harbor sounds. I press my hand to my chest, but it doesn’t muffle the thundering that feels like it might crack my ribs.
“That’s exactly right,” Declan says, and I can hear the hope in his voice. “Have you seen it?”
“Seen it?” Sage’s laugh is like silver bells with sharp edges. “Darling, I sold it. About three months ago, to a very discerning collector who specializes in maritime family treasures.”
The world tilts sideways. My mouth falls open. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, just a small squeaking sound like air escaping from a balloon. I clamp my lips shut and nod like this is totally normal professional behavior.
“You sold it?” Declan’s voice has gone sharp with focus, his alpha energy suddenly more intense. “When? To whom?”
“A private collector in Newport—Sterling Ashworth. Lovely gentleman, very knowledgeable about maritime antiques. He was specifically looking for pieces with family provenance.” Sage’s eyes find mine across the desk while Declan takes notes. Her smile is all teeth. I dig my fingernails into my palms hard enough to leave marks, counting myheartbeats until she looks away. “I’m sure dear Karma here knows Sterling’s reputation in our community.”
Sterling Ashworth.
The snooty antique dealer from Newport who looks down on my thrift store. Of course Sage sold it to him. Of course. I start counting inventory in my head—thirteen compass roses, eight ship wheels, twenty-three pieces of brass fittings—anything to keep from falling apart.
“Ashworth,” Declan repeats, already pulling out his phone to take notes. “How do I contact him?”
“Oh, Sterling can be quite particular about who he speaks with. But I’d be happy to make an introduction.” Sage glances at me with that same glittering amusement. “I’m sure dear Karma here understands how important proper connections are in our business. We maritime dealers must stick together, mustn’t we?”
She’s loving this. She’s absolutely loving watching me squirm while pretending to help.
“That would be incredibly helpful,” Declan says, and his whole face lights up when Sage mentions helping. He actually grins—the first real smile I’ve seen from him. My stomach drops like I swallowed a stone. I have to look away before he sees whatever’s written on my face.
“What would convince him to sell it back?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part.” Sage sighs dramatically, one hand pressed to her chest. “Sterling doesn’t typically resell pieces from his personal collection. He’s rather... possessive of his maritime treasures. But perhaps if you could prove provenance, family ownership, offer the right incentive...”
“I have all the documentation. Insurance papers, family records going back five generations. And I’m prepared to pay well above market value.”
“Wonderful! That might just do the trick.” Sage claps her hands together, and the sound makes me jump hard enough that the chair squeaks again. “I’ll reach out to Sterling thisafternoon, see if I can arrange a meeting. Though I should warn you—he can be quite demanding about authentication and value. He’s not one to be charmed into a deal.”
This is actually happening. She’s actually going to help him get the compass back. The knot in my chest loosens slightly.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Declan says, and the relief in his voice makes my chest tight with guilt. “This is the first real lead we’ve had.”
“Happy to help! It’s always satisfying when family treasures find their way home.” Sage turns that brilliant smile on me. “Don’t you agree, Karma dear? There’s something so poetic about lost things returning to where they belong. Almost like the universe has a sense of justice, wouldn’t you say?”
She’s definitely enjoying this. I manage to nod without my voice cracking. “Absolutely. It’s what makes this work meaningful.”
“Indeed. And I do so appreciate clients who understand the... delicate nature of these transactions.” Her smile sharpens slightly. “Discretion is so important in our line of work, don’t you think?”
