The Keeper of Lost Things

by Ruth Hogan

She had been dead for forty years, but she was still his life, and her death had given him his purpose. It had made Anthony Peardew the Keeper of Lost Things.

Her grandmother had once told her that one could blame ugliness on one’s genes and ignorance on one’s education, but there was absolutely no excuse whatsoever for being dull.

“I should say that I’m pleased to meet you, but it would probably be a lie.”