“Oh, that would be a lovely piece for a couple,” Geraldine said as she brushed past us with an arm full of blankets. She tilted a chin up at the orange, yellow, and white casserole dish Holden still touched. “It was my grandmother’s. She and grandpa were married for sixty-two years. I’d keep it if we didn’t already have so many.” Holden pulled his hand back. “Oh, we’re not—” “Ten bucks?” I interrupted. Geraldine looked at Holden, then at me, a knowing grin spreading on her weathered face as she winked at me. “Deal.”
