CabernetCrusader:Antiques. Step into my shop. That tarnished watch you see? It counted frantic seconds, ticking down to a rendezvous at the old clock tower.
HaintBlueJulia: What kind of antiques?
She hesitated before sending. Her question had nothing to do with wine. But something about CabernetCrusader’s responses made the exchange feel natural. She hit “post” and got ready for bed. As she slipped under the covers, her phone chimed with a Reddit notification:
CabernetCrusader: American furniture and decorative objects, primarily 18th and 19th century. My shop in Providence specializes in items with documented histories. When you’ve finished breathing life back into that cotton warehouse, do share the ‘before’ and ‘after’ photos.
Providence. Now she had a location to go with the username. She typed a response:
HaintBlueJulia: I’ll post photos when it’s done (another ten months at least). Providence has some beautiful industrial architecture. I’m in Savannah. We’re practically architectural opposites—your city built in stone against cold, ours in wood to catch every possible breeze.
She sent the message and set her alarm, aware she was procrastinating on sleep. As she turned out the light, Julia realized she’d lost an hour chatting with a stranger on Reddit instead of working on her proposal or answering texts from real friends. Yet somehow, the exchange had left her feeling energized.
In Providence, though she couldn’t know it, Dylan Gilbert was having similar thoughts as he closed his laptop and glanced at the 18th-century clock ticking steadily on his mantel, marking time as it had for centuries.
Chapter 2
The Black Tulip
Dylan Gilbert woke to the familiar creaking of his apartment’s wooden floors. The second story of a Federal-style building in Providence’s College Hill neighborhood, it sat directly above The Black Tulip, the antique shop he had inherited from his uncle after his mysterious death in search of a rare treasure. Every morning, the floorboard by his bed announced the day with a groan that had likely been there since Thomas Jefferson was president.
He’d fallen asleep with his laptop open again. A quick glance showed three new Reddit notifications—all replies to his comments on r/WineEnthusiasts. The one from HaintBlueJulia was the first he opened.
HaintBlueJulia: I’ll post photos when it’s done (another ten months at least). Providence has some beautiful industrial architecture. I’m in Savannah. We’re practically architectural opposites—your city built in stone against cold, ours in wood to catch every possible breeze.
Dylan smiled. He’d spent far too long last night researching her cotton warehouse project after their exchange. Her perspective on historical preservation resonated with him—seeing buildings as stories, rather than just structures.
CabernetCrusader: Never been to Savannah. My shop is in this 1803 building that’s seen more drama than an Italian opera—everything from a silversmith to a printing press. The walls practically gossip if you listen closely. What hooked you on architectural preservation? Did you rescue a crumbling gargoyle in your youth?
He hit send before heading downstairs to open the shop. On his way out, he passed a heavy door with original brass hardware; the oak door separated his private space from his public one. The Black Tulip occupied the first floor and basement of the building. It was filled with carefully curated American antiques, each with documented provenance. Unlike some dealers who chased only the highest-value items, Dylan favored pieces that told stories of everyday American life through the centuries.
His assistant, Nico, was waiting outside, coffee in hand.
“Morning, boss,” he said, handing over a cup from their favorite local roaster.
“Thanks, Nico. We’ve got that estate evaluation in Brookline at eleven,” Dylan reminded him, unlocking the shop. “The family claims they have a Chippendale secretary. But from the photos, I’m a little skeptical.”
Nico had looked at the photos, too. Popular in the 18th century, the Chippendale combined the functional design of a secretary desk with the distinctive stylistic elements of Chippendale furniture—Mahogany wood, graceful S-shaped legs and intricate carvings. They were sought-after antiques, highly elegant and often imposing. But there were many reproductions on the market.
“Bet you twenty bucks it’s a reproduction,” Nico said, entering the shop.
“I’ll pass on that bet,” Dylan laughed. “Still worth looking at, though. And who knows, there’s always the chance of a hidden compartment … perhaps a forgotten stash of letters. Even in disappointing collections, there’s usually something interesting.”
As they prepared the shop for opening, Dylan found himself checking his phone more frequently than usual. By mid-morning, a response appeared:
HaintBlueJulia: I grew up in a new development where every house looked identical. I was only 16 when I visited Charleston. The worn brick and wrought-iron gates were so different. But the haint blue porch ceilings meant to ward off spirits won me over! The Black Tulip sounds intriguing. How did you get the name?
Dylan waited until his lunch break to reply, wanting to give her question some thought. The past few months had been consumed with settling his uncle’s affairs and learning the intricacies of running the business alone. Apart from all the responsibility, Dylan was processing a grief that still caught him off guard at unexpected moments. He kept his reply short.
CabernetCrusader: ’The Black Tulip’ is a novel by Alexandre Dumas–about the obsession with rare things. Just curious: Ever face community resistance to your modernization efforts?
Throughout the afternoon, Dylan kept looking at his phone between customers. The Brookline estate had indeed featured a Colonial Revival reproduction, but Nico had discovered a collection of handwritten recipe books dating back to the 1850s that proved far more interesting. As they drove back to Providence, Dylan received another notification:
HaintBlueJulia: How did you guess? Current project has a neighborhood group convinced I’m destroying history. Dumas reference noted—I’ll have to read it! Do you read much historical fiction?
Dylan waited until after closing to reply. He sat at his desk surrounded by auction catalogs and condition reports.
CabernetCrusader: Historical fiction is my guilty pleasure. Currently reading a novel about the Portuguese court’s escape to Brazil during the Napoleonic Wars. What are you reading?
