Chapter 24: Given Last

Dermot looked at the black velvet box for a long time.

The whole table had gone quiet, the cook with her spoon halfway up, the driver with his chin in his hand.

"Open it," I said.

"I haven't earned whatever's in there."

"You don't get to decide that tonight. Open it."

He lifted the lid with one finger.

Inside lay the last of the six, a black stone as big as a walnut, on a new cord.

It was one of the six the family had sold, and it was real.

The copy he had left on my kitchen counter had been tin and paint.

"My father put a fake of that in your hand on Legacy Day," I said. "This is the real one."

"My father gave out the others first."

"I'm giving this one out last."

I turned to the table.

"On Legacy Day I stood at the end of a table with my hands folded," I said. "I waited, and nothing came."

My father had put down his spoon.

I touched the green stone at my throat.

"Mama told me to wear it where they could say no to me twice," I said. "Nobody here is going to say no. So I'll put it on myself."

I reached behind my neck.

The clasp was cold and small, and it took me three tries with the whole room watching.

Dermot took half a step toward me, and I shook my head.

"I can do it," I said.

It snapped shut.

The stone settled against my breastbone, heavy and warm, in its gold leaves.

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