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Annie took a crestfallen Charlie out to the sidewalk. “Sorry, sport. I’ll do some checking when we get back to the house. Hungry?”

He was. They decided to take a chance on the Bagel Shoppe, with that special spelling, expecting the worst. But the chocolate chip bagel Charlie wolfed down and the poppy seed with chive cream cheese Annie ordered proved borderline satisfactory.

On the way back to the car, passing the antiques store, Annie said, “Let’s check this out.”

“Do we have to?”

“You never know what you might find. Maybe some more old Ray Bradbury paperbacks.”

Charlie offered a sigh of surrender and in they went, setting off another jingling bell. Annie quickly realized this was less an antiques store and more a hoarder’s paradise. Old furniture, Sears catalogues from the 1970s, books, broken lamps, old model train buildings and other accessories, printers that hadn’t been hooked up to a computer in twenty years, Beanie Babies that looked like they’d been gnawed by dogs, boxed jigsaw puzzles that Annie was willing to bet were missing several vital pieces.

Charlie wandered off toward the back of the store, while Annie had a glance at the paperback books, thinking that even if she found one that interested her, odds were it would not be mold-free.

“Look ’round long as you like!” said a voice. Seconds later, a heavyset woman with gray hair and wire-framed glasses emerged from between two aisles of junk. “We got just about everything you could ever want.”

Provided your list consists of nothing but shit, Annie thought. “Thanks. Just thought we’d browse.”

“Got some classic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figures back there somewhere your boy might like. So long as he’s not fussy about them having all their limbs.”

Annie gave her a polite nod. For all she knew, there were great treasures to be found, but nothing was organized. Royal Doulton figurines were on a shelf with toy guns. Old copper pipe was in a box with wool mittens. A Cuisinart base with mixing bowl sat on a shelf next to an ancient Howdy Doody doll. The only reason to stay another couple of minutes was out of politeness. Once she’d rounded up Charlie, they’d be out of here, but he had vanished into the bowels of the shop.

She worked her way down an aisle and called out softly, “Charlie?”

She kept on going until she had reached the back end of the store, which was where she found her son, examining a bicycle.

“What about this?” he asked when he saw his mother standing there.

“That?” she said, unable to hide her lack of enthusiasm.

The bike was about the right size for a boy Charlie’s age, but it was definitely from another era. The seat was one of those elongated banana seats, with the handlebars raised upward, like angel wings. The wheels and frame had rust spots, and the back tire looked flat. The bicycle was probably from the sixties or early seventies. And ifall that weren’t enough, it was a girl’s bike, the center bars slanted down.

“It’s perfect,” Charlie said, swinging his leg over the seat, holding on to the handlebars and testing it out.

“The back tire’s flat. Charlie, it’s a piece of junk.”

“Oh, it’s still good,” said the proprietor, who had materialized out of nowhere. “I got a pump to put some air into that back tire. It might look rough, but it works. I had a kid trying it out the other day. I know it’s made for a girl, but, you know, these days we try not to judge, right?”

“Mom?” Charlie said pleadingly.

“Honey, we can go to Binghamton and find you one, or order it, like the man at the hardware store said.”

“That could takeforever. It might not even show up before we have to go home. And I need it rightnow.”

“And why do you need it rightnow?”

“I got places to go,” Charlie said.

“And people to see,” said the store owner, laughing. “I can make you a good deal on it.”

Annie thought, if anything, the woman should pay her to take it off her hands. “I really don’t think it’s the right one for him. He’s never had a bike before, and it would probably need training wheels, and—”

“Mom!I don’t need training wheels. I’m not a baby. I already know how to ride a bike.”

“Since when?”

“I ride Pedro’s all the time.” Charlie’s friend from school. “But in the alley, never on the street,” he said, anticipating his mother’s alarm.

“Ten bucks,” said the shop owner.