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Quinn laughed and ate another fry while she waited for her to return.

“Okay. Can I put this on the desk?”

“Sure,” she replied, pushing their food containers and drinks aside.

Abby sat back down in her chair and set the box down on the desk.

“You said someone just came in here and left you this?”

“Yes. He said he was a realtor selling an old farmhouse, and they found this box of stuff. I didn’t throw anything out. I probably should have because I can’t see any of it selling, but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“The same reason he told me thathecouldn’t, I guess: it felt wrong. Everything in here has a story. Just like that cow saltshaker that I was telling you about. These are photos of people’s lives. It felt weird, tossing them into the trash.”

Abby looked into the box and began rifling through the photos.

“All of these were dropped off?”

“No, just the ones in the front. The rest, I already had. Any of the ones with twenty-five cents on them are the new ones.”

“Why aretheyonly a quarter, and the others cost more?”

“The box had twenty-five cents on it from some garage sale or something, so I got sentimental and just made them all a quarter.” Quinn shrugged a shoulder.

“That’s cute,” Abby said, meeting her eyes and smiling at her.

“Just look for a picture,” she replied, looking away quickly to hide her blush.

“Oh, it’s them.” Abby pulled a photo out of the box and leaned back in her chair to get a closer look. “Wow!”

“What?” she asked.

“They’re older here.”

“Older?” Quinn got up and walked around the desk. “Oh, wow! A few years, maybe.”

“At leasta few. I’m thinking more like five or something, because look at the little boy. He’s got to be about three or four years old here, right?”

“I think so.”

“So, if they had him in 1938, this would be about 1942, probably.”

“Ifwhohad them in 1938?”

“Deb and John David.”

“Who’s John–”

“Them,” Abby explained. “Well, that’s Deb; the one in the dress.” She pointed at the photo. “The little boy is John Paul, but they call him Paul. The other woman in the uniform is Harriet. John David isn’t in this picture, but if I have to guess–” She stopped.

“What?”

“He went off to war.”

“Okay. But, Abby, you know that’s just your version of events, right? That’s your story, but you don’t know what actually happened to these people.”

Abby sighed and said, “Right.”