Page 48 of Kissing Kin
“MS sixty…uncirculated…some luster.”
After several minutes, the dealer returned, smiling. “I believe I’ve found a buyer.”
“Can’t you buy the dime?” Maeve wore a hopeful smile.
“This coin’s out of my league.” He shook his head. “As a retailer, I can’t afford to tie up my inventory, but if you can wait a few minutes, a wholesaler’s on his way here.” Then squinting, he peered at the brooch on her turtleneck. “Now, this interests me. Is your cameo for sale?”
“Sorry.” Catching Luke’s gaze, she shook her head. “This is a family keepsake.”
“If you ever change your mind, I have a ready market for mourning brooches.”
“You mean as in good morning?” Maeve tilted her head.
“No, m-o-u, as in grief.” He stared at her brooch. “Did you notice the oak sprays in the gold filigree?”
“No, I didn’t.” She removed the pin from her collar.
“The pattern looks decorative, but it’s symbolic.” The dealer lightly ran his finger around the metal design. “An empty acorn cup represents an empty shell—a death—and those lilies-of-the-valley symbolize a reunion with a departed loved. Both motifs were popular mourning symbols in the mid-to-late nineteenth century.”
Maeve’s brows shot up.
“Could I see the brooch?”
“Of course.” The bar pin safely on top, she placed the cameo in his hand.
He pressed a node at the side, and the back sprang open, revealing a glossy fabric. “Just as I thought—a secret compartment.”
Maeve gave a surprised cry as she fingered the shiny material inside. “Such a fine weave…is that flax?”
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “That’s plaited hair.”
“Human hair?” Recoiling, Maeve turned toward Luke. “Whose?”
“No idea.” He shrugged. “This is the first I’ve heard of any lock of hair.”
“Sometimes family bibles show birth and death records.” The dealer closed the hinge and returned the pin.
“If anyone has a family bible, it’d be Aunt Rosie.” He glanced at Maeve. “We’ll have to ask the next time we see her.”
A gray-haired man entered the shop.
“This is George Dawson, an estate wholesaler, who may be interested in your Winged Liberty Head.”
After introductions, the man examined the dime beneath the microscope. He rubbed his chin, made several calculations on his phone app, then turned to Luke. “This your coin?”
“No, it belongs to—”
“Yes, it’s his.” Maeve shot Luke a dirty look.
“Doubled die obverse coins don’t come on the market often…”
Luke frowned before turning his attention toward the dealer. “Go on.”
“I represent a national wholesaler that’s always interested in adding to its inventory.” The man scrutinized Luke, seeming to size him up. “How much you want for it?”
“How much are you offering?”
****