“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?”
“Just curious,” I said. “It looked very similar to a piece my family once owned.”
“I’m sure there are similar pieces out there. I have to go.” He ended the call before I could respond.
The next morning, I phoned Will and told him I needed to see Claire. I kept it general. Said I wanted to spend more time with her, maybe look through some family photo albums together.
He believed me without hesitation — Will has always trusted me — and I felt a small, uncomfortable twist of guilt for taking advantage of that trust.
***
Claire met me at her apartment that afternoon, bright and welcoming, offering coffee before I’d even sat down.
I asked about the necklace as gently as I could frame it.
She set her mug down and looked at me with eyes that held nothing but honest confusion.
“I’ve had it my whole life,” Claire said. “Dad just wouldn’t let me wear it until I turned 18. Do you want to see it?”
She brought it from her jewelry box and placed it in my palm.
I ran my thumb along the left edge of the pendant until I felt the hinge, exactly where my mother had shown me, exactly as I remembered.
