Dear Lee,

Collectors often say, “It was as if it was waiting for me,” when they find that special antique they have wanted for years. It’s happened to us a number of times. Early in our marriage, we tried to buy a very large Victorian sideboard by Pottier and Stymus of New York. It was 10 feet long, what the trade calls “a moose,” very hard to sell because of its size. First we answered a dealer’s newspaper ad. By the time we called, it was sold. A few years later, another dealer was selling it. Missed it again. A year later it was offered at a southern auction and we got it. Then the auction house called. Would we mind taking another, similar piece? Yes, we minded. We told the auctioneer that it’s “our” sideboard and it’s the only one we want. So now it’s in our bedroom, along with other pieces by Pottier and Stymus.

The next antique to call to us was a large oil painting, a still life of fruit by an American artist. We saw it at a New York show and didn’t buy it. Went back the next day to get it and the dealer told us it was sold. “Here’s our phone number,” we said. “The picture is meant for us. When the new owners return it, please call.” Three days later we got the call. The painting had been returned because it didn’t fit over the buyer’s fireplace. It is now in our library.

But the strangest of all involves our search for a piece of 1950s silver jewelry by Terry’s camp counselor, Ada Husted Anderson. We have been asking dealers and checking sales for about 20 years. All we knew was that she was Danish, had a shop in New York City and made silverware and jewelry. At the Miami Modernism show (see On the Road in this issue) we asked a jewelry dealer with modernist silver about anything marked “AHA.” No luck. But a waiting customer told us he had an AHA pin and he knew another just like his was being offered online. When we got home, we found an email from him telling us where to look. We bought the pin. At last a piece by Terry’s silverwork teacher was ours. Serendipity, help from a fellow collector, plain old dumb luck and that “preordained” feeling about collectibles finally made it ours. We are not alone. Every collector has stories like these. So keep looking for your own special antique. Some things truly find their destined owner.