The basket of scarves is what started it all. Beau and I had gone to the harbor for dinner near the water. Afterward, we wandered the shops and ate ice cream, while the city lights glowed around us and a warm breeze drifted in from off the bay.

We were about to head home when Beau spotted the small cart by the water’s edge. A saleswoman was offering a selection of vibrant scarves.

“Those are pretty,” he said, making a beeline for them. He plunged his hand into the jumble of colored fabric and brought up two — orange and turquoise.

“Batik?” I asked the woman.

She gave me a shy nod and explained, “I make them at night after my day job and on the weekends.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, fingering the soft fabric.