The small shop was a block down Main Street, and she knew the owner, Ryan Bronwyn, did a good business because he was fair and reputable. She took the plate inside, where a small bell on the door announced her arrival. “Hello, Ryan.” She smiled at her business neighbour. She’d always been particularly fond of him. His light brown hair, glasses and tall, lean, frame reminded Mel of her father. While Ryan was younger, probably mid-thirties, he still carried that same air of wisdom and confidence that she loved about her dad. “Hi, Mel. How’s it going today?” “Not bad. I have a plate I wondered if you could check out. It looks old to me, but I’m no judge of antiques.” She set it on the counter. “Let’s have a look.” He unwrapped the china and studied the back carefully. “I haven’t seen this mark before, which surprises me. I’d like to investigate this further.
