Chapter 19: The Emerald

Lucia was waiting for me in the hotel's side lounge with a pot of tea she had not touched.

Chiara sat across the lobby on a velvet sofa, alone, with a leather folder on her knee.

I did not look at her yet.

"Sit, cara."

I sat.

"Where is my grandson?"

"Dressing. He'll come."

Lucia's eyes went over my face and my crooked collar, and she did not smile.

"Good," she said. "I will say this once, and I will say it quickly."

She laid her small hand over mine.

"The emerald on that woman's finger was my mother's."

She turned her teacup a quarter turn.

"I had it reset the week before your wedding. I put it in Marcello's palm and told him to put it on his bride."

I stared at her.

"He never did."

"He never told me he had it. He never gave me anything."

"No," Lucia said. "He gave it to Chiara the day before the wedding, to keep safe."

"Why her?"

"Because he was a fool, and she was the only person he told. I asked her for it a year later."

"What did she say?"

"That she had lost it."

Lucia's mouth went flat.

"Three years ago I saw it on her hand at a Christmas party. I said nothing. I wanted to see what she would do."

"What did she do?"

"Nothing. She wore it. It is a very good ring, cara. It was yours."

I thought of Chiara in the lounge, the first day, laying her hand on my arm.

I thought of the emerald catching the light.

"I don't want it," I said.

"You will want it back one day," Lucia said. "In front of people."

I stood.

Chiara was already watching me.

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