Inside was an old silver necklace.
A small oval pendant.
“She was wearing this.”
I took it.
Inside were initials.
T.H.
“Miriam gave your father this pendant when they were students. He returned it when they separated.”
“Clara wears it?”
“Her mother gave it to her before she died.”
I closed the pendant.
“What happened when you asked?”
“She lied.”
That almost made me laugh.
“Finally, something about her I understand.”
Mother smiled.
“She said she bought it at an antique shop.”
“And you believed her?”
“I raised you. I am familiar with terrible lies.”
I handed the pendant back.
“Eventually she told me.”
“Everything?”
“Enough.”
“And you asked her to stay.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mother’s answer came instantly.
“Because I had already lost eighteen years.”
That night I barely slept.
The mansion felt different.
Every corridor seemed full of people who had once passed through it carrying secrets.
