Kelly insisted the earrings matched my ring so well that I should have them. He was being so kind and generous, I suspected I’d given him a very good deal indeed. But I still wore Anne’s ring, and I could never repay him for that. The pawnbroker had saved me from making a terrible blunder, and he’d told me a story even more precious than the ring itself.
I found myself puzzling over the dizzying ramifications of Declan’s timepiece. If I had not gone into the pawnbroker with Eoin, would Mr. Kelly have ever given Eoin the watch? Eoin had had the watch all the years I’d known him. Was I changing history, or had I always been part of it? And how had Eoin gotten Anne’s ring? If she’d died and was never found, wouldn’t she have been wearing it?
I realized suddenly that I had no idea where I was going. I was clutching the money pouch in my right hand and Eoin’s hand in my left, letting him lead me along, my mind eighty miles—or years—away.
“Eoin, do you know where the department store is?” I asked sheepishly.
He laughed and let go of my hand. “Right there, goose!”
We were standing across the street from a row of huge glass windows—at least six of them—shaded by a deep-red awning that boasted the store’s name, “Henry Lyons & Co. Ltd., The Sligo Warehouse” in pale lettering. Behind the glass, hats and shoes were displayed on pedestals, and dresses and suits were modeled by pale-faced mannequins. Relief swelled for seconds before fear regained dominance.
“I will simply ask for help,” I encouraged myself out loud, and Eoin nodded.
“Nana’s friend Mrs. Geraldine Cummins works here. She’s very helpful.”
My heart sank so low it rubbed the bottom of my belly, and I thought for a moment I would be sick. Brigid’s friend would surely know about Anne Gallagher. The real Anne Gallagher. The original Anne Gallagher. I braced myself as Eoin pulled me forward, clearly eager for the wonders of the huge store.
A group of men were gathered around the large set of windows just right of the entrance. Their backs were to the road, their arms folded as they stared at something on the other side of the pane. I craned my neck, trying to see what had drawn the crowd. As I neared, one man abandoned his spot, giving me a clear view of the window before the hole closed with someone else. They were reading a newspaper. Someone had taped the Irish Times to the inside of the department store window, the pages open and spread to allow passersby to read through the glass.
I slowed, curious and predictably drawn to the words, but Eoin surged ahead. I was propelled through the door being patiently held open by a man who tipped his hat as I passed. All thoughts of newsprint and words were replaced by wonder and dread as I looked around at the high shelves and wide aisles, the displays, and the décor and tried to ascertain exactly where to start. There was no canned music being piped into the store and no fluorescent lighting. Lamps were suspended overhead, spilling warm light on the highly buffed wood floors, and I turned in a complete circle to get my bearings. I was in the men’s department and would need to explore.
“Clothes, stockings, a pair of new boots, a pair of shoes, a hat, a coat, and a dozen—two dozen—other things,” I murmured, trying to make a list that would keep me from crying in a corner. I had no idea how far my money would take me. I peeked at the price tag on the overcoat hanging to my right. Sixteen pounds. I started doing mental calculations and gave up immediately. I would simply buy as much as I could for one hundred pounds. That would be my limit. The other sixty would be my emergency money until I could earn more or until I woke up. Whichever came first.
“Nana always goes up the stairs where the dresses are,” Eoin prodded, and I let him lead the way once more. We climbed a broad staircase, which opened up to the second floor, revealing elaborate hats, colorful fabrics, and perfumed air.
“Hello, Mrs. Geraldine Cummins,” Eoin cried, waving at a woman about Brigid’s age who was standing behind a nearby glass display. “This is my mother. She needs help.”
Another woman shushed him loudly as though we were in a library and not standing amid racks