Page 92 of Hang the Moon
Chapter Eighteen
Wednesday, June 9
Do you like these?” Elle held up a pair of earrings shaped like sparkly, pale pink sugar cubes. “Or these better?” She held up another pair shaped like swirling bunches of cotton candy.
Annie tore herself from the curio cabinet full of antique estate jewelry and took in the options Elle held. Both were kitschy but so perfectly Elle that it made it hard for Annie to choose. “That’s a dilemma. Both?”
Elle flipped over the cardboard cards they were affixed to. “On sale.” She beamed. “Both it is. Thanks.”
Texting and even the occasional FaceTime chat with Elle hadn’t done her spunky, whimsical, occasionally harebrained personality justice. She was a hyperactive ray of sunshine with a penchant for looking on the bright side and tossing out random resonant pieces of wisdom.
Annie held up a pair of leather ankle boots. “What do you think?”
“Cute.” Elle smiled but shook her head. “But you’re not supposed to buy shoes secondhand.”
“Right.” Annie set them back on the rack with a wistful sigh. “Throws off your gait.”
Elle gave her a startled frown. “No. I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s bad luck.”
Annie stared at her.
“You know. If you buy secondhand shoes you’ll wind up walking someone else’s path.”
Annie snickered. “Guess that completely rules out purchasing vintage lingerie.”
“No.” Elle smiled. “I think that’s fine as long as you have it laundered first. But not underwear.” She frowned. “That’s just gross.”
Shopping with Elle was an unparalleled experience.Antiquingwas next-level. The shop they were currently browsing was divided roughly by decade, with the oldest wares in the back and the newest near the front, with the exception of the fine jewelry, which was kept beneath glass close to the register. Elle bounced from aisle to aisle, her enthusiasm contagious.
“Pink cups!” Elle hurried down the aisle, stopping in front of a collection of brightly colored Depression glass in almost every color of the rainbow, from avocado green and dusty pink to milky blue and canary yellow. “Margot and Ishouldprobably invest in matching dishes. It’s past time.”
Little did Elle know Darcy planned to ask her to move in. Annie bit back a smirk. On second thought... “You shoulddefinitelybuy the whole set. But make it rainbow. Green plates and pink wineglasses.”
Elle laughed. “To match my rosé.”
“And blue water glasses.”
“Yellow bowls.”
“Youneedan ultramarine cookie jar.”
Elle threw her head back. “I think I do.”
Darcy was going to have kittens when the time came to merge their belongings. Annie could picture Elle’s Depression glassware beside Darcy’s pristine porcelain plates and stainless flatware. Hell, if Elle didn’t buy it, Annie would, and she’d gift it to her. A nice housewarming present.
Elle took off for the front of the store and returned a moment later with a shopping basket, which she quickly and carefully filled with Depression glass and her new earrings.
While Elle weighed the merits of aquamarine versus delphite cups, Annie meandered down the aisle, pausing in front of a metal carousel of old postcards. The cardstock was buttery soft and slightly yellowed with age, the picturesque fronts faded in places from fingerprints, but otherwise they were preserved, the ink only slightly grayed. Annie selected a beautiful black and white postcard that looked like something straight out of a French fairy tale. It reminded her of a town she’d visited in Provence. In the bottom left corner was the location—Palais des Papes, Avignon. She bounced on her toes. Itwasin Provence.
She flipped the postcard over. The handwriting was beautiful, all slanted cursive. French, too. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t merely a postcard but a love letter, if the salutation, “Ma chère femme,” was anything to go off. A love letter from 1935. Her jaw dropped.
“Find something?” Elle chirped.
Annie spun quickly, clasping the postcard delicately to her chest. “Just a postcard.”
She flipped it over, showing Elle the writing.
Elle cocked her head. “French?”
