The bell above the door to Heavenly Treasures chimed as Ash entered. The door bumped against a stack of boxes and came to a sudden stop.

“Woah,” Ash said, stopping with one foot over the threshold. More boxes blocked her view of the interior. Heavenly Treasures was no stranger to clutter, but she’d never seen it like this.

Sam came up behind her and peered over her shoulder. “What happened here?”

A muffled voice called from somewhere near where the cash register should be. “Sorry, don’t mind the mess!”

Judy, the owner, popped up from behind the counter, running the back of a hand over her brow. Her hair was in disarray, and glasses sat askew on the bridge of her nose. A wide smile blossomed on her face when she caught sight of the two of them.

“Oh, Ashley, dear. How lovely to see you.” Her gaze shifted to Sam, and her grin grew wider. “Goodness! Samael, dear boy! You’re getting bigger and more handsome every time I see you.”

Sam stepped around Ash and made his way through the maze of boxes to give her a hug. “Hi, Judy.”

The older woman pulled him into a hug. “A lot can change in a few months, Sammy. Especially for you young folk.” She released him, and her hands squeezed his biceps, then she turned to Ash with a secretive grin on her face.

Ash rolled her eyes. “What’s all this?” She let the door close behind her, and she made her way through the mess. None of the boxes were labeled, but they were all brand-new. The thrift store got its share of large donations, usually when someone old passed away, but those boxes were usually old and musty, and sometimes, so were the contents.

The bell above the entrance tinkled, and the door swung open until it met the same box Ash had hit. An elderly woman’s face peered around the door.

“Sorry, Dottie,” Judy called. “Watch your step as you come round.” She finally released Sam from her appraising gaze and returned to the safety behind the counter, taking a long draft from a coffee mug before she answered Ash. “We got an estate donation.”

“Oh no,” she said, though she wasn’t surprised given the number of boxes. “I hadn’t heard of anyone passing recently.”

“You probably wouldn’t have heard about this one. They lived in Dunwich.”

“That’s too bad.” Sam lifted one of the cardboard lids and peered inside at the assorted bric-a-brac.

Dottie stopped her own review of a box’s contents and pulled her hands away. “Dunwich? Isn’t that where that couple died?”

“Oh, Dottie, mind your gossip! I got a fresh batch of Harlequins the other day, so go at ’em.” She waved, shooing the older woman away. Dottie harrumphed and tottled toward the back of the store.

Sam returned the lid to the box. “What happened in Dunwich?”

“Tragic.” Judy shook her head but didn’t elaborate further. “What are you looking for today, dearie?” She didn’t bother asking Sam. Ash had been shopping at Heavenly Treasures since she was a kid. Hell, even before that. When she was in utero. Her mom and Sam’s mom had been shopping here since they were young.

“Just browsing today. I wasn’t able to make it in last week, so I wanted to see what was new. Oh, and to get something for Alice.” Her fingers found the hem of the blouse Alice had given her. Ash’s mom and Alice used to go thrift shopping with their moms. It was a ritual both women carried over when they had their own children.

Sam had lost his interest in shopping a long time ago, but Ash still loved it despite the painful memories it dredged up. After her mom left, Ash probably would have given up on the tradition as well, but Alice stepped in to keep the tradition alive. It helped both of them grieve and move past losing people they loved.

Judy smiled. “Oh, Lord knows there are always more treasures coming in. You know where everything is, so just shout out if you need help.”

Sam and Ash separated, each of them going their own way. Just like her, Sam had spent many of his formative years in Heavenly Treasures. The style of the clothes and the sophistication of the electronics may have changed, but it was still the same store. He knew where to find his favorite stuff. Sam loved perusing the old books and motley assortment of weird knickknacks. They were fascinating to browse, no doubt, but Ash knew why he really liked them. It was the ladders.

The perimeter of Heavenly Treasures was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, which were full to bursting with stuff. The only reliable way to get a good look at it all was to use the rolling library ladders.

Sam raced off toward the nearest ladder, and Ash and Judy shared a look of exasperated amusement.

Ash probably knew the shop better than anyone except Judy. She tried to come in every week to see what was new and to visit with the woman who was almost like a grandma to her. Spending so much time in Heavenly Treasures over the years, Ash had seen innumerable family heirlooms and prized possessions get donated because surviving family members thought it was junk. She didn’t want her stuff to end up like that, so she rarely bought anything for herself.

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When Amanda Williams had run off, Ash had inherited the “craft room.” No crafting ever happened in it. It was simply a room full of all the junk she collected over the years. Luckily, Ash didn’t inherit her mother’s knack for hoarding junk.

Today she was looking for clothes. She was telling the truth when she said she wanted to get something for Ms. Dyer, but ever since she’d had the thought earlier, she couldn’t shake the urge to buy a few new outfits for Sam.

It’s a good thing he’s over there pretending to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast. That’ll keep him out of my hair while I shop. There’s no way he’d let her if he knew. The stubborn boy saw nothing wrong with the way he dressed. And, in truth, there was nothing wrong with his wardrobe. It could just be…better.

Unfortunately for Sam, Ash wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about giving him a makeover, so her secret mission to shop for him was going full steam ahead. Convincing him to try them on would be a problem for later.

Thirty minutes later, Ash dropped a pile of clothes on the counter, and a small pile of paper tags followed suit. It was faster to collect them while she shopped rather than have Judy root through the pile at the register. It was a simple system. All the clothes had different colored tags, and each color represented a different price. Judy nodded her thanks and collected the tags.

“What’s all that?”

Shock and guilt blazed through her in equal measures when Sam spoke from behind her. Most of the clothes were obviously men’s, and a frown crinkled his eyebrows when he spotted them.

“J-Just some things for my dad and Alice.” While Sam had broad shoulders, her dad was significantly larger than him. With a shrug, Sam turned to peruse a shelf of glass baubles nearby.

The shushing sound of paper hitting the floor caught her attention, and Ash noticed a tag at her feet. Bending down to grab it, her butt hit a stack of boxes. It teetered, then toppled before she could steady it.

“Jeesh, Ash. Lay off the Toaster Strudels.”

She whirled on him. If her finger were a knife, she’d have skewered him with it. “Watch it, buddy, or you’ll be drinking your strudels through a straw when your jaw is wired shut.” Sam raised his hands in mock surrender and bent over to help clean up. Ash twisted and gave her ass a cursory glance before helping him.

Still got it.

Luckily, most of the box was clothing. She picked up a burnt orange vest that crunched under her fingers like velvet. Underneath was a matching one in maroon. Images of her dad in grade school flitted through her mind, and a shiver ran up her spine.

“Too bad those things went out of style,” Sam said, righting the box and getting ready to dump an armload of other vests back into it.

“Wait.” A flash of color toward the bottom of the box caught her eye. The clothes had shifted when the box fell, exposing the corner of an ornate wooden frame. She pulled it out, careful in case it was fragile. She needn’t have worried, though. Inside the heavy frame was a painting on thick canvas.

Sam dumped the last few clothes back in the box. “What’s that?”

She shrugged and turned it so he could see it. It was old. She didn’t know anything about art, but she could see the fine cracks in what she guessed was acrylic paint. In it, two people lay in the grass, bodies intertwined in an embrace. Leaves and branches covered their naked bodies, and a large, gnarled tree stood sentinel above them, its branches reaching into the dark sky. It was nighttime in the painting, the colors muted. The tree’s leaves were different shades of dark greens, oranges, and reds. A piece of blue painter’s tape was stuck on the bottom of the canvas with the words DONATE written in black marker.

Sam made an appreciative noise. “Kinky.”

Ash slapped him on the arm. “Perv.”

“You’re the one looking at an ancient Playboy.”

“It’s art. It doesn’t count as porn.”

“Let me see.” Looming above them from the other side of the counter, Judy held her hand out. “Ashley’s right, Sam. It’s art, so it doesn’t count as pornography.” Ash made a face at him. “But he’s right, too,” Judy said, taking off her glasses. “Doing the hanky-panky in the woods like that is pretty kinky.”

Sam gave her a dose of her medicine, making the same face.

“I remember when my Jonathan was still alive, we used to—”

“Judy!” Ash’s cheeks burned. Judy may not have been family, but she was close enough—and old enough—that Ash didn’t want to hear the sordid details.

“What?” She noticed Sam covering his ears and Ash’s blush. “Oh, grow up you two. You’re both adults now.”

Sam struggled to speak through his giggles. “Yeah, but you could be our grandma.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Geezers can’t have needs, Sam Dyer?”

Dottie shuffled into the aisle. “I could tell you stories of the old folks’ home…”

Sam’s chuckles turned into outright laughter. “Please don’t,” he begged.

The older women shared a glance, shaking their heads in exasperation. Judy turned the painting over to reveal that it had a solid wood back. She turned it over again and ran her fingers along a small mark in the corner. Her brow furrowed. “I think I recognize this. I think I do, at least. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one.”

“It’s not an original?” Ash’s heart sank. If it were a print or a duplicate, it wasn’t as special.

“I think it is. My mother had something similar. The people were…similarly occupied as these.”

“There’s got to be tons of smutty paintings out there.”

Judy nodded. “And no doubt you’re right, Sammy boy. But this…” She ran a fingertip over the mark and showed it to them. Two circles, one inside the other with a small dot in the center. “My mother’s had this same symbol. She got it from my mormor when she married my father.”

Ash asked before Sam could, “What’s a mormor?”

“Sorry, got caught up in memories there. It means ‘grandma.’ My mother was born in Sweden.” She turned back to the painting, and her eyes went distant. “I forget exactly what she called it, but it would bring the newlyweds good luck and a bountiful harvest.”

“Your parents were farmers?”

Everyone fell silent, then Sam leaned close to Ash and stage whispered, “She means it was supposed to make them have lots of babies.” He jerked out of her reach before she could hit him.

“It was just old wives’ tales. You know, like hanging sprigs of rosemary in the rafters to keep evil spirits away. My mormor emigrated from Trosa many years ago. She was very superstitious. Always going on about goblins and demons. Her English wasn’t very good. Do you want it, dear?”

Ignoring Sam’s chuckling, Ash took the painting back from Judy. “Sure.” Sam wouldn’t let her hear the end of it anytime soon, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

Whatever, it wasn’t like she even wanted kids. It’s just a pretty, romantic painting.