My son brought his fiancée home for dinner — as she took off her coat, I recognized the necklace I buried 25 years ago.

I watched the lid close.

I watched them lower her into the ground.

There was no second necklace.

There couldn’t be.

I must have gone pale because Claire touched the pendant and smiled politely.

“”It’s vintage,”” she said.

I forced my voice to stay steady. “”That’s… beautiful. Where did you get it?””

She hesitated — just for a second.

Then she looked directly at me and gave an answer that made the room tilt beneath my feet. Continued in the first c0mment