looking for signs where there aren't any

After reading about tragedy and worrying about my children today (I do tend to go down that path) I undertook to do something nice for someone.
I know that the story about my hat can be construed as crazy. You know the story about my hat: a stranger saw the photo of my beret on my flickr site and asked if she could buy it from me. She had had the same hat and lost it and was very sad. I could not agree to sell it to her but I did agree to meet her in town to see if it could be copied by a milliner.
Now, before you think I am stupid (because I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid) I will tell you that just yesterday I allowed someone to manipulate me to get something they wanted. I knew perfectly well that this person was manipulating me and I never said a word - I went along for the ride and, in the end, the person didn't get what they wanted anyway. So, when I set off on this lark, for the woman who had lost her hat, I was quite wary.
I did not offer any details about myself, I only gave her my email address, I was not forthcoming with information about anything other than the hat.
I took the train into town (and nearly forgot the hat!).
I scoped out the address of the millinery shop.
I waited until the exact moment I was expected and went upstairs.
As soon as I saw her I knew I would do whatever needed to be done to help her in her quest, short of selling her my hat.

She was small and nervous. I wish I could draw her - I can't draw.
We were both overdressed for the warm sunshine but she was perspiring.
She looked a little desperate, but perfectly nice. Nervous.
We showed the hat to the milliner and he brought it to a back room and returned with bad news.
His man could not duplicate the hat.
I worried that she would implore me to sell it - I was afraid.
But she was smarter. She asked if anyone in the area might be able to make a duplicate and he gave us the name of a hat shop around the corner.

As we walked, she tried to ask me about what I do for a living, and where I live and my children and I'm afraid I was not especially warm to her. I was pleasant enough, but I was worried that I'd be faced with some kind of ultimatum.

I wish I could describe her, and now she has my site address and if she is reading I do not want to be disrespectful - and, in truth, I do not intend to be unkind about her. But she was so interesting. Like a small bird. And her handbag and wallet were jammed with papers and cards and she had the remnants of her lunch in a bag...and she seemed so bereft.
I am not stupid in that I googled her name and knew perfectly well that she was a decent person. Someone's wife, someone's daughter - I knew when I asked her what she did for a living what she did for a living. But I was still wary.

On the way to the second hat maker I found myself becoming protective of her. She was rifling through her bag and worried about finding the address and I cautioned her against losing something. I had to hold back to not watch her when we crossed a busy street. I wanted so much to be firm and strong.

We arrived at the second hat shop and the women at the counter were eager to tell us they could not help - that no one they knew of made hats like mine. We were dismissed.
But there was a man in the shop (which I wish I had photographed, full of hat forms and trims) who talked about how my hat was made and this sparked the interest of a woman who was shopping there.
I'm working hard to remember the woman. It turned out that she was a hat maker. And she joined in our conversation and began to talk about my hat. A double beret. In wool. With unfinished edges. She might be able to make one. Would I loan it to her? How was the hat worn? On the back of our heads? No measurements needed. She would, if I allowed it, take the hat back to her studio, and do her best to duplicate it.
She was wonderful looking. She had interesting shoes. And a skirt. And a kerchief or scarf or something wound through her hair. And she had a well loved hat with her that she was endeavoring to copy for someone. Oh, I wish I had taken pictures. But I was trying so hard to be discreet, to not say that I am a great observer, a blogger, a writer, a person who sees every little detail of every single thing. And even as I write this, as Middle is having his music lesson ten feet away from me and his music is so intense and complex, so are my emotions.
I let the hat maker take my hat with her to another city.
I walked a couple of blocks with the little nervous lady.
I went and sat for a few minutes and called K to tell him what was going on.

And then I got on the train and went home.
I listened to cello music and stared at the clouds.
I saw a passenger on the train be nasty to another who was trying to speak quietly on the phone.
I kept thinking about all of it.
About doing something for a stranger unconditionally.
And this thing I've done is nothing. I don't mean to suggest that it is anything but trivial.
I'll shut down the comments if people go on about what a nice thing it was.

She offered to pay for my train ticket. To buy my lunch or coffee.
I shook her hand and told her to do something nice for someone else. I told her to pay it forward, which is ridiculous because it is nothing. She could hold the door for an old lady and it would be more.
But she kissed me goodbye.
She knows nothing about me. She said it was nice of me to do this. I told her I'm not so nice. And I do hope she gets her hat.
And I don't want this experience to be anything more than loaning someone a hat.
But, still, I put it out there, to the universe. As a gesture which I'm hoping can mean something even though it is just loaning someone my hat.