A knock at the door prevented further quarreling, though Star knew it would only be a temporary ceasefire. She began to wend her way down to the front of the shop, her sisters trailing behind her.
A smart-suited man with a trepidatious expression was peering in the window of the door, his hands on either side of his head to shield his eyes from the light outside and better see into the gloom of the shop. He flustered, embarrassed, when he saw Star and quickly moved away from the window, pushing up his glasses and picking his briefcase up off the ground. He seemed familiar to her, though she couldn’t place him.
“Can I help you?” she asked as she pulled the door open, the airflow causing several wind chimes hanging from the ceiling beams to tinkle daintily.
“I hope so, yes.” The man smiled nervously. “I stopped in at Steele & Brannigan, and they told me you were all here. I’m the appraiser from Sotheby’s. Duncan. Duncan Steadman, pleased to meet you.”
He held out his hand and she shook it. His fingers were long and thin, like a pianist’s or an artist’s, and warm as they wrapped around Star’s own hand. Suits—as a type of man—had never been her cup of tea, but there was something about him. She found herself both intrigued and soothed by his gentle manner.
“You are very welcome indeed, Duncan Steadman. We need all the help we can get sifting through this mess,” said Star
“I can’t wait!” said Duncan, sounding like he absolutely meant it. “The North account is the stuff of Sotheby’s folklore. I put myself forward as soon as I heard they needed an appraiser to come down.” He faltered and looked suddenly shamefaced. “I’m so sorry, that was thoughtless. I’m sorry for your loss. Your father was a legend in the office.”
She had so many questions about Duncan’s statements that she didn’t know where to begin.
“How did you know he was our father?” she asked.
“You have the North eyes!” he said eagerly, like a pupil confident of his answer in class. Suddenly she knew where she’d seen him before.
“We met on the train yesterday afternoon. Kind of. We didn’t actually speak. You were knitting.”
Duncan’s expression seemed at once both delighted and shy. “Yes, I remember you. It never occurred to me that one of the North daughters might be on the train.”
She had almost given up hope of discovering any magic on the overcrowded commuter train, when a man in a suit, walking so stiffly his trousers might have been made from wood, had got on at London Bridge station. He stashed his immaculate Ted Baker suitcase in the overhead rack and sat awkwardly in the chair opposite her. She had been struck by the Clark Kent air about him: handsome in an uptight, probably-starched-and-ironed-his-socks sort of way. He had close-cropped curly black hair and a precisely trimmed beard, sharp and angular like his jaw. When he’d opened his briefcase with two neat clicks and pulled out some knitting, she had smiled to herself, satisfied she had found her magic after all.
And now he was standing in North Novelties & Curios, and she realized she’d been holding his hand far longer than was necessary. She smiled shyly and released him, stepping back and knocking into a shelf, causing three hundred items to rattle in protest.
She did a brief internal assessment to try to decipher this peculiar feeling and the only word she could come up with to describe it was glittery. Holy crap, what’s happening to me?
Maggie, smiling, stepped forward briefly to shake Duncan’s hand before stepping back to make room for Simone.
Simone glided into the now-crowded shop entrance and held out her hand. “In case you didn’t already guess, I’m the third sister, second if you’re going by age.”
Duncan looked a little overwhelmed. “Like I said to your sister, I am so excited and honored to be here,” he gushed.
“What did you mean by ‘the North account’？ And why is it legendary?” Maggie called over from her position next to a complete skeleton on a stand, whose name, according to his label, was Cuthbert.
“Oh, well, the North family have been buying and selling through Sotheby’s ever since Patience North approached us when we started business in 1744, and we’ve had dealings with every owner of North Novelties & Curios since. Did your father not tell you?”
The women shook their heads.
“I see. I mean, I just assumed . . .”
“What makes it the stuff of legend?” asked Simone.
Duncan pushed his glasses up his nose for the second time in as many minutes. “We, that is, the collective and historical ‘we,’ have always wanted the chance to root around in the shop. Our dealings were only ever to do with specific items; the North family have always been very private about their collectibles, but everybody knows that this shop is a historical treasure trove.”
“？‘Historical treasure’ as opposed to actual treasure worth real money,” interposed Simone.
“I’m quietly hopeful of both.” Duncan did indeed look hopeful; in Star’s opinion he resembled Charlie Bucket upon finding the golden ticket.
“Really? I guess we should check that our insurance is up to par,” Maggie considered out loud.
“Oh, I’m sure it is. Your father was meticulous about that sort of thing.”
“Are we talking about the same man?” asked Simone. “I can’t imagine him being meticulous about anything.”
“I have all his documents with me. You’re welcome to look through them. He ensured that his certificates of authenticity were in order and insured certain items accordingly.”
“Good lord.” Maggie looked bewildered. “I’m beginning to think our father had multiple personalities.”
“I don’t suppose he sent you stock sheets, did he?” asked Star, looking up and down the crowded shelves. “Any clues that might make it easier to sift through this lot?”
“Unfortunately not,” said Duncan, though his expression said that he felt there was nothing unfortunate about it at all. “But we are given to believe that some of the items here were antiques when Patience purchased them, and to our knowledge, she never sold them on. If you have any more questions, please feel free to ask me. I will keep you fully updated as I go along. After all, this all belongs to you now.”
The women looked about them with expressions that ranged from intrigued to exhausted.
“I have a question,” Star piped up.
“Of course, fire away.”
“What were you knitting?”
She had the pleasure of seeing him look bashful. Definitely Clark Kent! she thought dreamily.
“I’m making my niece a unicorn jumper for Christmas. Although at the rate I’m going she’ll be getting it for Easter.”
“How lovely,” said Star. Her glittery feeling was dangerously close to going full snow globe.
She saw Maggie cast a look at Simone, who rolled her eyes in response, and Star wished her face didn’t betray her every thought and emotion. Maybe she could use this enforced togetherness to try to harness some of Simone’s poker-faced attitude.
“Are you going to travel in every day all the way from Tunbridge Wells?” Star continued, and then, turning to her sisters, she added, “He got off the train at Tunbridge Wells. Don’t you think it’s funny that we were on the same train?”