Chapter 3

In the afternoon, Ferdinand Gray, the scrap collector from downstairs, came pedaling his three-wheeler through the courtyard, calling out.

"Old fridges, old TVs, old washing machines—"

Crystal called down to him. "Ferdinand, come up and help me carry that bundle of old newspapers."

Ferdinand was a shrewd little old man, his eyes forever darting around, sizing up a price for everything he saw. He came in, weighed the newspapers, and handed Crystal fifteen dollars.

He was about to leave when his gaze snagged on the cup sitting on the coffee table.

At the moment it held a few cloves of garlic.

Ferdinand's feet stopped. He pulled the towel off his neck, wiped his sweat, and sidled over as if by accident. "Hey now, big sis, you've got the place looking tidy. This cup here... you throwing that out too?"

"No, still deciding." Crystal didn't think much of it. "My son wants it gone, but I figured I'd keep it for the cat."

Ferdinand reached out, picked up the cup, and turned it over and over in his hands. His thumb rubbed twice at the red square stamp on the base, and his eyes flickered hard, his throat bobbing.

"Ah, this cup's already got a chip. You'd be scared of cutting the cat's mouth, feeding it out of that." Ferdinand set the cup down, but didn't let go of it. "Big sis, tell you what—the shape's kind of nice and old-fashioned, I'll take it home for my grandson to play with, use it as a brush washer. Let me throw in an extra... fifty bucks on that pile of scrap paper, and you just give me the cup."

"Fifty?" Crystal blinked.

An old color TV only got thirty on a normal day, and he was offering fifty for a beat-up cup?

Crystal knew nothing about antiques, but she knew people. Ferdinand was tight as a drum, splitting every penny in two before he'd spend it. Why was he being so generous today?

"Ferdinand, you sure you're not misjudging this?" Crystal took the cup back. "It's just a junk cup some beggar gave me."

"Tsk, come on now, big sis." Ferdinand was getting anxious, reaching for it again. "I'm just doing it for a bit of fun. A hundred! How about that? A hundred bucks would buy you several new sets of dishes!"

The instant that hundred came out, something in Crystal went wary instead.

"Not for sale." She put the cup back in the cardboard box behind her and sealed the tape over it. "This belongs to somebody else. I'm just keeping it for him."

"Ah, why do you have to be so stubborn..." Ferdinand still had more to say.

Just then the security door across the hall opened.

Craig Lambert, the college student who lived opposite, came out with his backpack on and a DSLR camera in his hand.

"Aunt Crystal, packing up?" Craig was a warm-hearted kid who often hauled rice and flour up for her.

"Oh, Craig." Crystal looked at him like she'd spotted her rescuer. "Perfect timing. Come see how heavy this box of books is for your aunt."

Seeing an outsider show up, and a college student at that, Ferdinand pulled his hand back, sulking. "Fine, fine, keep it then. Hang onto it and let it breed!"

With that, Ferdinand picked up the bundle of newspapers and left, turning back every few steps, his eyes full of regret and reluctance.

Craig watched Ferdinand's retreating figure, then looked at Crystal. "Aunt Crystal, what was old Ferdinand pestering you about just now?"

"Ah, he took a liking to that junk cup of mine, insisted on buying it for a hundred." Crystal cut open the box and pulled out the cup. "This one—see, it's filthy."

Craig took the cup and held it up to the light from the window.

"Aunt Crystal, this cup looks... kind of interesting." Craig was a history major. He didn't know appraisal, but his gut told him this was no ordinary thing. "Look at the body—it's grimy, but it's really thin, and held up to the light there's this faint red glowing through it."

"Worth money?" Crystal asked.

"Hard to say." Craig raised his camera. "Aunt Crystal, isn't the state TV network running that Treasure Hunt show lately, collecting old pieces from ordinary folks? I heard the open tryouts are right here at the city cultural center. Why don't I take a few photos and send them to their inbox? If it really is a treasure, then there's your moving money right there."

"TV network?" Crystal hesitated. "That's all stuff from wealthy families. What chance does my beggar's cup have?"

"Just give it a shot, it doesn't cost anything." Craig snapped several close-ups, especially of the blurry red stamp on the base. "If it doesn't get picked, it's not too late to feed the cat with it then."

Crystal thought it over. "All right, I'll do as you say. If it really sells for a few hundred, I'll buy Old Yellow some good canned cat food."