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part-antique store, part-thrift shop, and he always had interesting things for sale. He always placed some of them on the sidewalk out front to tempt her and other unsuspecting passersby.
    “You don’t need anything.” Her brain might have been listening, but her feet weren’t. They slowed, gradually coming to a halt in front of an interesting display of old carnival memorabilia.
    “Just got them in today.” Jules Montrose leaned against the doorjamb of his shop and smiled at her, his teeth gleaming, his dark skin smooth and unlined in spite of his age. Sabrina really had no idea how old he was, but he was a dear friend of Granny Esmeralda.
    She set her belongings down and leaned them against the building. “Tell me about all this stuff.” More than the things themselves, she loved the stories behind them, the lives entwined with the material possessions. And Jules always had a story.
    He smoothed a hand down his crisp blue shirt and his smile widened. He knew he had her hooked. “Well, these here signs are from a genuine traveling carnival, the kind that used to travel all over the country, heck all over the world back at the turn of the last century.” His eyes took on a faraway appearance, as though he was lost in the past. “I remember this one myself. Went to it back in the late fifties, or maybe it was the early sixties.” He frowned. “Doesn’t matter much, I suppose. The theme parks pretty much put them out of business by the late seventies, early eighties. Might still be a few small ones going around, but they’re nothing the size the old ones were.”
    Sabrina perched on the window ledge beneath the awning. She pointed to a sign about eight feet long and three feet high. “Shade’s Carnival.” She said the name aloud, trying to visualize how the sign would have looked in its prime. The paint was chipped and the light bulbs were missing from most of the sign, but it was easy enough for her to imagine it lit up, drawing folks toward the fair grounds.
    Jules nodded. “That’s right.” He pointed to a smaller sign, which listed the prices for the rides—three tickets for a turn on the Ferris wheel and two for a turn in the funhouse. “From the price of a ticket, I’d say this might have been one of the last big shows still touring the country.”
    Another sign caught her eye. Like the rest, it was weather worn, the blue, red and gold painting chipped and peeling. This one advertised a man who could eat fire and swallow swords, a knife-thrower, magic tricks, a contortionist and a fortuneteller. Very cool. She wished she could have visited the carnival and seen some of the acts.
    Jules cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from the sign. She knew what that meant and it wasn’t going to be good for her wallet. Still, she had to ask. “What else have you got?”
    He rubbed his large hands together and motioned her inside. “Got something I set aside for you to see before I put it out on display. Knew you’d be interested.”
    Sabrina could feel her bank account shrinking even as she gathered her belongings and trudged into the shop behind Jules. Whenever he said those words it cost her money. Of course, he knew what she liked. She had a respectable collection of framed vintage postcards and prints and some really nice antique tarot decks that Jules had found for her.
    The inside of the store was much darker than the outside and she blinked to adjust to the dimmer light. “Just leave your things behind the counter and follow me,” Jules instructed.
    Anticipation made her blood hum. Not something small if he wasn’t keeping it tucked behind the counter for her. She dumped her belongings as instructed and wound her way through the warren of items, sidestepping a slightly battered leather trunk that had great potential as a coffee table, swerving around a chair that had to be at least one hundred years old, and squeezing past a rather large mahogany hutch that would take up half her dining