That afternoon was quiet enough that I could hear the hum of the lights above the cutting tables. I was sorting through a stack of fabric swatches when Lena called my name from the front. There was a different tone in her voice, one that made me look up immediately. When I stepped into the front of the boutique, a man stood near the door, hat in his hands, the faint weight of travel in the way he carried himself.

It took a few seconds before I placed him. Time had added lines to his face, ...