Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Buy what you want for a change. Let me spoil you,” he had said this morning. “Don’t look at the price. Just say yes.”
Ten minutes later, I walked out the door, the dress in the bag with the pants and bathing suit. It looked nice on, fitting me well, and the color was beautiful. So rich and deep. I loved it, and I hoped I got a chance to wear it.
I walked on, looking in windows and stopping at outside tables. I couldn’t recall having the opportunity to simply walk and not worry about time or money—ever. I bought a few little things. Nothing big. Then I saw a shop, the sign worn, and when I peeked in the window, I realized it was an antique store, filled with all sorts of items. I typed the name of the store into my online translator, and it came back “Trinkets and Treasures.” I liked the sound of that, so I went in. The light was dim inside, and I slipped off my sunglasses, taking it all in. Furniture, bric-a-brac, fabric, paintings, china, bits of everything were stuffed inside. An elderly gentleman smiled my way, greeting me. “Buongiorno.”
I smiled and returned his greeting.
“Ah,” he said in heavily accented English. “American?”
“Canadian.”
“Very good.” He indicated the small shop. “I own. You look, and I help.”
“Thank you.”
I browsed the shelves and walls. There was so much to see. So many different things from what I would find back home, yet a few things so similar it made me smile. A display caught my eye, and I approached an arrangement of what I thought were small swords, only to realize they were ornate old letter openers. Some were simple, some overelaborate. All interesting. One caught my eye, the brass of the blade dull in the light, but gleaming with a sharp edge. It had an intricate handle, and I moved closer to see it.
“You like?”
I nodded. “May I look at it?”
“Of course.”
He slid it from the display, holding it out to me, the sharp edge pointed his way. “Very fine piece.”
I took it carefully, looking it over. I knew nothing about antiques or letter openers. What caught my attention was the glass on the handle. It reminded me of the enameled glass I had seen in Dante’s gallery. Red, green, and gold, with a circular golden piece of glass in the middle that reminded me of Dante’s eyes. It was unique and different. Heavy in my hand. I could see him at his desk, slicing open mail with it. The blade was embossed and attractive. The gentleman showed me the small brass stand that came with it, the blade sliding in and the glass on display.
I had no idea if it was real. Or worth anything. But Dante told me to buy what I liked. And I liked this.
“I’ll take it, please.” I wanted to give it to Dante. I would get money from my own bank account to pay for it, so he wasn’t really gifting it to himself. I hoped he would like it.
The owner wrapped it, and I used Dante’s card to buy it, carefully tucking the receipt into my wallet so I could repay him the money. I slipped the small bag into my larger one with the clothes I had bought. The owner lifted my hand, kissing my knuckles, and made me laugh. I had no idea what he said, but his smile was wide and his eyes danced.
I left the shop and looked left and right. I was on a corner, and before I could decide, I was swept in the direction of the crowd. It was lunchtime now, and the streets bustled. I kept going, not paying attention to where I was until I noticed the streets were a little quieter and the shops not as well tended. I looked around, feeling nervous. I spotted a sign ahead of a shop with large windows, and I hastened toward it. It appeared to be another gallery of sorts, and I slipped inside, hoping the staff spoke English and could give me directions on how to get back to Dante’s.
I shook my head. I should have mentioned to Dante I was hopeless with directions and prone to getting lost.
The gallery was dim, not well lit and welcoming like Dante’s. I could hear voices in the back, and I wandered around, peering at the displays. The pieces were different from this morning. A lot of them newer. Not as nice. I peeked at a price tag. Expensive, though, I thought. Some items were locked away, obviously the most desirable. I saw a younger couple exclaiming over a vase, and I moved closer, listening to the staff member speaking to them in disjointed English, assuring them of the worthwhile investment and the rarity of the piece they were evaluating. It looked like a regular vase to me, but again, I knew nothing about antiques. Yet none of the pieces took my breath away the way Dante’s had. Even pieces I wasn’t as enamored with, I could see the beauty. Few of the pieces here replicated that sensation.