“There—the whole thing is pasted,” Annie announced. “How long should I leave the paste on the silver?”
Alice glanced over the top of the computer. “You can probably start removing it from the first side you covered. Try the edge to test it and use warm water to make sure you completely remove the paste.”
Annie set the pasty cloth aside and went to the sink to fill a glass bowl with warm water. Setting the bowl on the table, she sat, dipped a new cloth in the water and went to work on the first corner of the clasp. “It worked! The tarnish is wiping right off. Finding anything?”
Alice chuckled. “Yes, I’ve discovered Celtic designs are quite popular for tattoos.” She clicked through a link. “Oh, here’s something. Common Celtic bird designs are the crow—also known as the death eagle—herons to show fidelity, and peacocks for symbols of immortality and purity.”
“Interesting, but no matches with our design.” Annie rinsed out her cloth and dipped it into the bowl again. “The clasp has some kind of plant sprig for the main design. It’s repeated on either end of the Celtic cross in the middle with the knotwork connecting them. There aren’t any birds.”
Alice gave a triumphant grunt. “Ah! Here are some bird-of-prey designs. Eagles are close, but the angle of the head is different, like I thought. Here’s a kestrel; that looks pretty close. Oh! This one looks similar as well. The design description says it’s a hawk.” She angled the computer so Annie could see.
The website page contained several pictures of bird designs. Annie leaned closer and pointed at the top one. “Are those two birds biting each other or themselves? I can’t quite tell.”
“They’re biting their own necks, according to the fine print.” Alice hovered an index finger between two pictures further down the page. “These are the two I was talking about.”
“Sorry, I got distracted by that fascinating, but rather disturbing, design.” Annie moved her eyes down the page and bobbed her head. “You’re right; they both have a lot in common with the band design. So, it looks like we’ve got either a Celtic hawk or kestrel …” she held up the sporran, “and a sprig of … something. Any ideas?”
Alice peered at the newly polished silver. “Hmmm. My guess is … I have no idea. My knowledge of plants and trees isn’t huge. It mostly revolves around what fits in a window box.”
“And we don’t even know what the bands are. Who do you think might be able to help us?” Annie asked.
Alice slowly closed the laptop, thinking. “Maybe we should start with Mike Malone. After all those years he’s spent writing The Point, he’s a fount of miscellany.”
“I’ll pop into the hardware store tomorrow and see what Mike can tell me.” Annie lifted the sporran closer to her eyes, examining both sides thoroughly. “Now that we have the sporran and bands gleaming, let’s head to the attic.”
Alice cradled the computer in her arms to return it to the library on the way upstairs. “Right behind you. Hopefully, the attic will provide us with another piece of the puzzle.”
3
Annie had always been one to awaken by the sun, rather than by an alarm, which made for some early rising in August. That would be rated disgustingly early by Alice’s standards and on the late side for those who manned the many Stony Point lobster and fishing boats, which had already left the harbor for the Gulf of Maine. To Annie, her body timed it just right and gave her the joy of watching the world stretch its arms and shake off the night. It also gave her plenty of time to care for her vegetable garden and her roses. It was a glorious morning, so Annie decided to walk into town to see Mike Malone as soon as he opened his hardware store.
At the top of the rise on Maple Street, the crossroads at Main Street just ahead, she paused long enough to turn and take in the lupines as they festooned the sides of the road with riotous color. No wonder Gram had incorporated the wildflowers into many of her cross-stitch designs; they were as heart-lifting as she had been. Shifting her project bag, which contained the sporran and its contents, to her other shoulder, Annie turned again toward downtown and resumed her walk.
Within minutes she rounded the corner and stepped onto the sidewalk, passing Magruder’s Grocery as Mike Magruder was flipping his door sign from “Closed” to “Open.” Annie always thought of this section of Main Street as the M&M Way with one Mike owning the grocery store and another Mike the hardware store next to it. Mike number one lifted a hand to greet her through the plate glass window of his store before turning his attention to other chores.