right. She navigates the adorable downtown shops and parks in front of Cornerstone Shop & Gallery. She cracks the windows and they all exit. She waits for Bec to strap the baby in. Crystal averts her eyes until the carrier mostly blocks him from view.
“Ready?” Jess asks.
Crystal opens the door. A set of bells rattles as they enter. Bec takes a deep breath.
“What is it?”
“The bells,” she says. “Makes me think of Jackson.” Her fingers trail down to his bare ankles.
Crystal glances around. “Did you lose them?”
She nods. “That day at the park.”
Jess waves at the shop owner, who meanders over. The two chat like old friends. Crystal takes in the strange mix of art, kids’ clothing, and various oddities scattered about. Somehow, in all her visits to Lake Geneva, she’s never come into this store.
“What can I help you ladies with?” the shop owner asks. She’s an older woman with silver hair scraped back into a severe ponytail. She wears a gingham dress and cat’s-eye glasses on a chain around her neck.
Crystal doesn’t know where to begin. Luckily, Bec hands over the onesie. “Would it be possible to tell us if this was purchased here?”
“Well, let me see.” The woman’s voice is kind. She slides the readers up her nose, stretches the onesie in weathered hands, and peeks at the tag. “Yep. One of ours. Are you wanting to return it?”
Bec stands straighter.
Hope. She must be feeling hope.
“Not exactly.” Crystal tries to form the right words again but falters. Jess steps in.
“I know this is a strange request, Betty, but we’re trying to figure out who bought it.”
Betty chuckles. “Well, without a receipt, that’s going to be a tall order, I’m afraid.”
“I know. This is a bit of an emergency.” Jess smiles, as unthreatening as they come. “We think it would have been purchased in the last few months.”
“Not necessarily,” Crystal interjects. “It could have been a gift from someone too. A baby registry present, maybe?”
Bec chews her bottom lip. Her brow creases and her shoulders round as she absently rubs the baby’s back. Crystal needs to be helping her, not making her feel worse. Betty assesses Bec: her cane, her sad face, the vacant eyes, the baby. Sympathy tugs the corners of her mouth until she smiles. “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She waves them over to the computer. “We keep a backlog of receipts for up to six months before they’re whisked off to the land of accounting.” She laughs and pecks a few buttons on the computer. “I can put in the SKU number and see what comes up. If you ladies want some lemonade while you wait, please help yourselves.” She motions to a small sitting area a few feet away with a big glass pitcher of lemonade, cups, and floral saucers.
“Thank you. That sounds lovely.” Crystal steers Rebecca toward the antique chairs while Jess hangs back. A container of cinnamon sticks has spilled next to the cups and Crystal rights it.
“Is this impossible?” Rebecca glances at her worriedly while she sits.
“I’m not sure.” Crystal arranges the cinnamon sticks and wipes her hands on a napkin. She almost asks to take a look at the baby, but he seems so content in her arms. She’s such a natural mother—a good mother—even if it’s for a son she doesn’t believe is her own.
“Crystal.” Jess says her name sharply and motions her over.
“Be right back.” Crystal joins Jess and Betty, who points at the point-of-sale screen. “There’ve been quite a few of these purchased over the last few months.” Betty scrolls through initials and partial credit card numbers. “Do you know who you’re looking for?”
“Not exactly. Is there a way to print this?”
“I can’t legally do that, I’m afraid.” Betty points to the credit card numbers. “Privacy.”
“Right.”
“Hey Betty, while you’re here. I was wondering if you could hook me up with a piece of art for my son’s bedroom.” Jess casually motions to the back wall, where a row of colorful paintings hang. “Are these new?”
“They are. Great line from a local artist.” When Betty turns to describe the paintings, Jess signals to Crystal.
Crystal slides her phone from her pocket and takes a few photos of the screen. When Betty realizes she’s left the computer unattended, she turns, but Crystal is already walking back toward Bec. “You’ve been super helpful, Betty. Thanks so much,” Crystal says. Jess busies her with purchasing one of the paintings, which Betty struggles to get off the wall.
“Hank!” She