Page 86 of Don't Tell

Inside is a thin gold chain with a small oval pendant — a locket, plain, old. It’s a piece that is not worth much on paper but is worth a great deal to the person it belonged to.

"This was my mother's."

"Vivienne…"

"I’ve been saving it for a long time. I had always imagined giving it to a daughter. I didn’t have a daughter. I made my peace with that years ago." She looks at me. "But I would like you to have it, if you'll take it."

I cannot.

She lifts the chain out of the box. She comes around the table. She fastens it around my neck herself. Her hands are steady. She smooths the chain against my collarbone with the back of her fingers. She steps back.

"There."

I look down. The pendant is small and warm against my skin.

I start to thank her, but the words won't come out.

She cups my face for one second. Her palm is dry and soft.

"It looks right on you."

She lets go.

"Drink your tea."

I get home at 5:15 p.m.

Cade is on a call in his office. I can hear the low, even register of his work voice through the door. I leave my bag on the bench in the entryway, I go to the kitchen, and I unpack two of the four boxes while I wait. Books on the lower shelves. A small stack of art monographs Renée mailed me last year on the upper. The kettle is on, in case he wants tea.

He finishes the call, comes into the kitchen, and sees my face.

"How did it go?"

"Good."

"Tell me."

I tell him about the meeting and the way the man across the table treated me. And I tell him I'm going to sign the contract.

He pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head.

"I'm proud of you."

"I invited him to dinner. I want you to meet him before I sign anything."

"Good."

He doesn’t ask the man's name. I don’t think to offer it.

He notices the locket and touches the pendant with one finger.

"Where did this come from?"

"Your mom."

His face softens. "She has been wanting to give that to someone since forever."

"I know. She told me."