Dear Lee,

We all know objects sometimes behave in mysterious ways. They can “talk” to an owner and sometimes even “search” for a new one. Last month I went to a big antique show in Miami Beach (see “On the Road” in this issue and in last month’s newsletter) to report on what I saw. I didn’t plan to shop—although I always seem to buy at a show.

After two days of walking into and past hundreds of booths without a purchase, I was finishing my last day at the show and went down a new aisle. Silver jewelry caught my eye and I stopped to look in the case. I spotted a bargain-priced modernist silver pin with a pink stone. I liked it so I bought it, and I told the dealer how I happened to start collecting this type of modernist jewelry—years ago, as a teenager, I went to camp in Maine and found I was good at shop, pounding copper bowls and eventually making a silver necklace. I came back as a junior counselor and worked with “Andy,” a New York City silversmith with a foreign accent (she was from Denmark).

In the 1990s while doing research on enamels, I came across the name “Ada Husted Anderson” and realized she was “Andy.” More research and more talking to dealers led me to find out that her mark was “AHA” in a cipher, but I couldn’t find anything of hers for sale.

Finally, five years ago at a Modernism show, I was asking a dealer about AHA jewelry while a man was waiting to see the dealer’s silver jewelry. An hour later, the man found me at another booth and told me where I could get a pin marked AHA online. It was still there when I got to my computer, so I bought my first piece of Andy jewelry.

At the 2010 Miami show, the dealer who had just sold me the pin with a pink stone listened to my story said, “Did you see this pin?” She pointed to a silver pin with a citrine. It was marked AHA. I bought the pin (pictured), my second Andy piece in 20 years of searching. What made me stop at the booth? Why did the dealer bring Andy’s pin to this show when she had owned it for years? What are the odds that I would mention Andy to the dealer? Did the pin look for me?

I don’t believe in ghosts, so it must have been serendipity. But I can’t tell you how many times collectors have told me similar stories about going to a flea market or shop and being drawn to something they remembered from their childhood or a piece once owned by a long-departed friend.