The man behind the table looked up from his crossword puzzle.
“Young woman sold it to me this morning. She was tall, slim, and had a big ol’ mass of curly hair.”
“And?”
“But no more questions,” he continued.
“$200.
Take it or leave it.”
My mouth went dry.
I gripped the table edge. That description — that was her.
That was Nana.
I paid the $200 without blinking. I held the bracelet all the way home, gripping it like a lifeline.
For the first time in ten years, I was holding something she’d touched.
My husband, Felix, was in the kitchen when I walked in.
He stood at the counter with his back to me, pouring the last of the coffee into a chipped mug we’d had since the year Nana was born. He didn’t turn around.
“You were gone a while, Natalie.”
