Chapter 4: The Pearls

Hettie drove, because she had a car older than I was.

We reached Rye Hall as the sky turned black.

The long drive was lined with lanterns from the wedding that nobody had taken down.

Twelve garbage bags sat in a row at the foot of the front steps.

One had split open. My mother's quilt hung out of it in the first drops of rain.

I got out of the car and picked it up.

It was the last thing she had ever made me.

I carried it to the front door and rang the bell.

The housekeeper opened it, saw my face, and stepped aside without a word.

The foyer was full of people.

Honoria Hallworth stood on the stairs in a silk robe, with a dozen of her staff gathered below her.

"Roxie," she said. "How dramatic of you to come back."

"I came for my things."

"They're on the curb. You found them."

"And my grandmother's pearls."

Her hand rose, very slightly, to her neck.

The pearls were there, a single strand, creamy and small and a little uneven, exactly as I remembered.

"I told you those were lost," I said.

"Did you? I must have found them."

"You took them out of my jewelry box. You wore them to my wedding."

"They're a Hallworth strand now. You married into this family, dear."

"I un-married out of it."

A few of the staff shifted their feet.

The housekeeper looked at the floor. The driver looked at the ceiling.

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