I froze.
There, resting against the hollow of her neck, was an emerald pendant, a teardrop on a gold chain. On the right side, near the base of the gold setting, there was a tiny, jagged scratch.
I recognized it instantly.
There, resting against the hollow of her neck, was an emerald pendant.
That necklace was mine. It was the only thing my grandmother managed to bring with her when she fled her home country. And 30 years ago, I had gifted it to someone very close to me.
“Mom? You okay?” Daniel was hovering near the coat rack, watching me.
I realized I was staring.
I forced my features to smooth out. “Oh, yes. Just… the light caught your necklace, Grace. It’s stunning.”
“Thank you.”
