years from antique shops, close-out bins, thrift shops.
Discovering the Speckled Toad was like finding my own
personal nirvana.
I always intend to use what I buy for something important.
Worthwhile. Love letters written with a pen that curves
into my palm just so and tied with crimson ribbon, sealed
with scarlet wax. I buy them, I love them, but I hardly ever
write on them. Even anonymous love letters need a
recipient…and I didn't have a lover.
Then again, who writes anymore? Cel phones, instant
messaging and the Internet have made letter writing
obsolete, or nearly so. There's something powerful,
though, about a handwritten note. Something personal and
aching to be profound. Something more than a half-
scribbled grocery list or a scrawled signature on a
premade greeting card. Something I would probably never
write, I thought as I ran my fingers over the silken edge of
a pad of Victorian-embossed writing paper.
'Hey, Paige. How's it going?' Miriam's grandson Ari
'Hey, Paige. How's it going?' Miriam's grandson Ari
shifted the packages in his arms to the floor behind the
counter, then disappeared and popped back up like a
jack-in-the-box.
'Ari, dear. I have another delivery for you.' Miriam
appeared from the curtained doorway behind the front
counter and looked over her half-glasses at him. 'Right
away. Don't take two hours like you did the last time.'
He roled his eyes but took the envelope from her and
kissed her cheek. 'Yes, Bubbe.'
'Good boy. Now, Paige. What can I do for you today?'
Miriam watched him go with a fond smile before turning to
me. She was impeccably made up as usual, not a hair out
of place or a smudge to her lipstick. Miriam is a true
grande dame, at least seventy, and with a style few women
can pul off at any age.
'I need a gift for my father's wife.'
'Ah.' Miriam inclined her head delicately to the left. 'I'm sure you'l find the perfect gift. But if you need any help, let
me know.'
'Thanks.' I'd been in often enough for her to know I liked to wander and browse.
After twenty minutes in which I'd caressed and perused
the new shipment of fine writing papers and expensive
pens I couldn't afford no matter how much I desperately
wanted one, Kira found me in the back room.
'Okay, Indiana Jones, what are you looking for? The Lost
Ark?'
'I'l know it when I see it.' I gave her a look.
Kira roled her eyes. 'Oh, let's just go to the mal. You
know Stela won't care what you give her.'
'But I care.' I couldn't explain how important it was to…
