I kept that promise, too, arriving early and staying late at the shop, keeping busy with the minutiae of button sales and collecting. I rearranged one of the display cases, replacing a shelf of tortoiseshell buttons with cute little realistics with a springtime theme, bunnies and flowers and even a couple Easter eggs. I filled an order for military buttons that came in from a group of Civil War reenactors in Philadelphia. I waited on a couple customers, thanked the gods of button dealing for foot traffic, and paid my electric bill and my heating bill and my phone bill. I even balanced my business checking account, going through the motions and fighting to keep my mind on buttons. And off murder. I should have known from the beginning that it was a losing cause. The moment I stopped to sit down and rest, I had the photos of the buttons from Angela’s charm string out on the desk in front of me, and I was staring at the one picture of the one still-missing button.
