In the bakery, Caydance selected two almond croissants, a baguette, and one of those flaky wheel-shaped pasties that always reminded her of the Oakland home of a Cal friend, whose father was a Union leader, and -- in addition to an endless supply of Italian pastries -- had a garden with more basil plants than she had ever seen in her life.

With the book-without-a-key in an artist's tote bag, she walked to the counter and boldly inquired if by any chance a small key was dropped in the bakery a while ago. It was, she said the key to an unusual artists box. She removed the book object and set it on the counter.

"That is the strangest object I have ever seen," said the always friendly young woman behind the counter. "I think the only keys in the lost and found box have been there forever, but let's look." From a shelf, she removed a shoe box full of ancient sunglasses, Canadian quarters, partially used BART tickets, and an assortment of keys.