The Apple Orchard. Сьюзен Виггс

a treasure when you’re looking for something else entirely.”

      Tess watched the sugar cube dissolve in her cup. “It keeps my job interesting.”

      “Tell me, is this something your firm would sell?” asked Miss Winther.

      “It’s possible, though even with the sugar tongs, a single piece—”

      “I didn’t mean just the bowl. I meant the entire set.”

      Tess dropped her spoon on the table with a clatter. “There’s a set?”

      Two

      Seated at a view table in San Francisco’s best bar, Tess was drinking a dirty martini, salty with olive brine. The olives were the closest thing she’d have to dinner. As always, she had worked right up until happy hour.

      She worked. That was who she was and what she did with herself. She worked...and she counted herself lucky to have a job she loved. Yet meeting Miss Winther, seeing the old lady all alone with her cats, had unsettled Tess. The encounter tapped into her most secret fear—that she would go through life alone and end up surrounded by treasures with no one to share them with. Working kept her from thinking too hard about how alone she was.

      Backing away from the thought, she reminded herself of today’s accomplishment and of the fact that she had good friends to celebrate with. She and her friends had a standing happy hour at the Top of the Mark, crowning the historic Mark Hopkins Hotel perched at the pinnacle of Russian Hill. It was a San Francisco landmark, ultra-touristy, but known locally for its stunning views, well-made martinis and live music.

      Thanks to her peripatetic childhood, she’d grown up with very little in the way of friends and family. Yet here in the heart of San Francisco, she’d made her own family, a small and convivial tribe of people like her—young professionals who were independent and ambitious. And fun—gypsies and geniuses, hard workers who also remembered to kick back.

      There was Lydia, an interior designer who was a constant source of client referrals for Tess. She found things like Duncan Phyfe sofas and Stickley tables stashed in people’s attics and storage units. She understood the adrenaline surge of a treasure hunt better than anyone Tess knew. The third member of their trio was Neelie, a wine broker who sometimes did business with Sheffield House. She had brought a new guy along tonight, Russell, who couldn’t keep his eyes off her boobs. Neelie kept sending secret text messages to Tess’s phone: Well? What do you think of him?

      He can’t keep his eyes off your boobs.

      You say that like it’s a bad thing.

      The two of them grinned at one another and lifted their glasses.

      “You two look like you’re up to something,” said Jude Lockhart, a guy Tess worked with at Sheffield.

      “That’s because we are,” she said, patting the seat beside her.

      Jude gave each of them a kiss and shook hands with Nathan, who was Lydia’s steady boyfriend. Neelie introduced him to Russell, her date.

      Tess loved the ease and charm of her friends; she loved that they were all still young and fun enough to meet and hang out after work. She especially loved that tonight, she had something to celebrate and friends with whom to share her news.

      “I hit the jackpot today,” she said.

      “Ooh, spill,” said Neelie. She turned to her date and explained, “Tess is a professional treasure hunter—really. She’s like a modern-day Indiana Jones.”

      “Not exactly,” said Tess. “I didn’t have to fight off any snakes today.” She told them about finding the Tiffany service at Miss Winther’s. “It turns out she used to be a garage sale addict and a bit of a hoarder. Most of the things she had were junk, but I found some other pieces, too.” She described the set of Ludwig Moser cordial glasses, a smallish woodcut image, pencil-signed by Charles H. Richert, and a jade cuff from pre-war China. With no particular sentimental attachment to any of the pieces, Miss Winther had cheerfully agreed to consign them to Sheffield House.

      “Damn, girl,” said Neelie, lifting her green apple martini. “Good work.”

      Everyone around the lounge table raised their glasses. “If you don’t watch out, you’re going to get yourself promoted,” said Jude.

      Tess felt a thrill of nervousness. She knew she was being considered for a position in New York City, a big move in more ways than one. It would represent a huge leap for her, vaulting her to the top of her profession. Jude regarded her with a combination of respect and envy. Somehow, they’d managed to be associates without becoming rivals.

      When Tess had first met Jude at an auction in London, she’d developed a severe crush on him. After all, it wasn’t every day you met a guy with an Oxford education and the face of a matinee idol. The crush hadn’t lasted, though. She quickly discovered they were too much alike—skittish about relationships, mystified by people who flung themselves into crazy love and ended up getting hurt. Eventually, the two of them had settled into a comfortable friendship. They were work colleagues, drinking buddies, and sometimes during the lonely times of the year—like the holidays—they pretended together that the loneliness didn’t matter.

      “Leave it to Tess to find a fortune in some old lady’s pantry,” said Lydia, snuggling close to Nathan. The two of them shared a private look, then Nathan gestured at a passing waiter.

      Jude nodded. “Tess seems to have a thing with little old ladies. My favorite is that time she found the program from a Giants game, signed by Willie Mays, in a client’s piano bench along with her sheet music.”

      “She remembered he was ‘such a nice young man,’” Tess said, smiling at the memory. “She had no idea she was sitting on a treasure every time she sat down at the piano to play ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone.’”

      “I swear, you have the Midas touch,” said Neelie.

      She laughed. “Hey, don’t put that on me. Remember, Midas was the guy who turned everything to gold, including his little kid.”

      “I thought you didn’t like kids,” Jude pointed out.

      “But I like Cheetos. What would happen if all my Cheetos turned to gold?”

      “The world would come to an end,” said Lydia. “Besides, you do too like kids, Tess. You just don’t want to admit it and seem uncool.”

      “I like kids and I’m totally cool,” Neelie pointed out. “And you’ll come around, Tess. Even people who don’t like kids fall in love when they have their own.”

      “Hey, speak for yourself,” Jude protested. “Watch it, Russell, my man. That ticking sound you hear? That’s her biological clock.”

      Russell put his arm around his date. “I think I can handle her.”

      “I don’t need handling,” Neelie protested. “Cuddling, yes. Handling, not so much.”

      Tess’s phone vibrated, signaling an incoming call, and she paused to check it. Not recognizing the number, she let it go to voice mail. There, she thought. I’m not all work and no play. I can resist a buzzing phone.

      “Speaking of things that are great...” Nathan gestured at the waiter, who had just showed up with a bottle of Cristal and a tableside bucket.

      “Cristal?” said Tess. “I didn’t realize my work story was that awesome.”

      “There’s more awesome news.” He stood up as two older couples entered the bar area, a few younger people trailing behind.

      “What’s going on?” Jude asked.

      With obvious excitement, Nathan introduced everyone to his and Lydia’s parents, and various brothers and sisters. Family resemblances were fascinating to Tess. Lydia’s two sisters looked like slightly skewed versions of Lydia