So how was it hanging from her neck?
I made it through dinner on autopilot. As soon as their car disappeared down the street, I went straight to the hallway closet and pulled down the old photo albums from the top shelf.
My mother wore that necklace in nearly every photograph from her adult life.
I spread the photos beneath the kitchen light and studied them for a long time. My eyes hadn’t deceived me at dinner.
The pendant in every image was identical to the one resting against Claire’s collarbone. And I was the only living person who knew about the tiny hinge on the left side. My mother had shown it to me in private the summer I turned twelve and told me the heirloom had been passed down for three generations.
Claire’s father had given it to her when she was young. That meant he’d possessed it for at least twenty-five years.
I glanced at the clock. It was almost 10:05. I picked up my phone. I’d been told her father was traveling and wouldn’t return for two days. I wasn’t willing to wait that long.
Claire had given me his number casually, assuming I wanted to introduce myself before wedding plans became serious. I let her believe that.
He answered on the third ring. I introduced myself as Claire’s future mother-in-law and kept my voice warm.
I told him I’d admired Claire’s necklace at dinner and was curious about its background, as I collected vintage jewelry myself.
A small lie. The most controlled one I could manage.
The pause before he spoke lasted just a second too long.
“It was a private purchase,” he said. “Years ago. I don’t really remember the details.”
“Do you remember who you bought it from?”
Another pause. “Why do you ask?”
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