I waited until the house was quiet.
Michael had taken Amber out for the afternoon, and Jennifer was sitting at the kitchen table with her phone beside her.
I made two cups of tea.
I placed one in front of her and sat across from her.
She looked at the cup.
"What's this about?"
"The necklace."
Her eyes closed briefly.
"Dad."
"Please, Jennifer. Just listen."
She leaned back in her chair.
I placed the empty wooden box on the table between us.
I had brought it downstairs because I wanted her to see what I had been looking at for days.
"This belonged to your mother," I said.
"I know."
"I kept it safe for three years."
"I know that, too."
"Then you understand why I need to know what happened."
Jennifer picked up her cup but did not drink.
For a long time, she stared at the tea.
I thought she might stand up and leave.
Instead, she put the cup down.
"The necklace is gone."
I felt the words before I understood them.
"What do you mean?"
She rubbed her forehead.
"I sold it."
The room seemed to become smaller.
I looked at her.
She looked back at me, but only briefly.
"You sold your mother's necklace?"
"I needed money."
I could not speak.
She began explaining before I had a chance to ask another question.
She said she had been short on money.
She said the vacation had already been planned.
She said Amber had been looking forward to it for months.
She said Michael had been complaining about their finances.
She said she thought the necklace was only an old piece of jewelry.
Each sentence seemed to make the previous one worse.
I listened without interrupting.
Finally, I asked where she had taken it.
"To a pawn shop."
"When?"
"Last week."
I looked at the wooden box.
"You took it from my bedroom?"
She nodded.
I felt my hands begin to shake.
"Without asking me?"
She looked down.
"I thought you wouldn't notice."
That was the moment I understood something I had been avoiding.
Jennifer had not simply made a bad decision.
She had counted on my grief making me too distracted to notice.
She had counted on my love making me too weak to confront her.
And I had given her every reason to believe she could get away with it.
I swallowed.
"How much did you get?"
She told me the amount.
It was less than I would have expected.
I stared at her.
"You sold something your mother wore for decades, something I kept because it was all I had left of her, and you sold it for that?"
Jennifer's face reddened.
"I didn't know it meant that much to you."
I almost laughed.
The sound would have been ugly, so I held it back.
"You knew."
She looked away.
I stood and walked to the sink.
I needed something to do with my hands.
I turned on the tap, then turned it off again.
I had no idea what I was doing.
Behind me, Jennifer began to cry.
I wanted to comfort her.
That instinct had been part of me for her entire life.
When she was a little girl and fell off her bicycle, I had carried her inside and cleaned the scrape on her knee.
When she was sixteen and came home heartbroken, I had sat beside her until she was ready to talk.
When she was an adult and made mistakes, I had helped her start again.
But I could not make this disappear.
I turned around.
"Why didn't you ask me?"
She wiped her cheeks.
"Because you would have said no."
"Of course I would have said no."
She looked at me.
I had raised my voice without meaning to.
I lowered it.
"It wasn't yours to sell."
She nodded.
"I know."
"No, Jennifer. I don't think you do."
She stared at the table.
I returned to my chair.
"Which pawn shop?"
She gave me the name and the street.
I wrote it down on the back of an old envelope.
Then I asked whether she had given them her name.
She said she had.
I asked whether she had signed anything.
She said she had signed a receipt.
I asked whether she had received any paperwork.
She told me she had thrown it away.
I closed my eyes.
Every answer seemed to make the situation harder.
But there was still one question I needed to ask.
"Did you tell them anything about the pendant?"
Jennifer shook her head.
"I just sold it."
"Did they examine it?"
"I don't know."
I looked at the empty box.
"Did you open it?"
She frowned.
"What?"
"The pendant. Did you know it could open?"
She shook her head again.
"I didn't know it opened."
I believed her.
For the first time since the necklace disappeared, I felt that she had answered a question without trying to protect herself.
That did not excuse what she had done.
But it mattered.
I took the paper with the pawn shop's name and folded it carefully.
"I'm going there."
Jennifer stood quickly.
"Why?"
"To see whether I can buy it back."
"What if they already sold it?"
"I'll ask."
She began crying again.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
I looked at her.
I wanted to say that everything would be all right.
But I did not know whether it would.
"I'm not ready to forgive you," I said.
She lowered her head.
I stood and put the empty box in my pocket.
Then I took my keys from the counter.
Jennifer followed me to the door.
"Please don't make this worse."
I stopped.
For a moment, I could not believe she had said it.
I turned to face her.
"You took something that belonged to your mother. You sold it without permission. And now you're asking me not to make things worse?"
She said nothing.
I opened the door.
"I am trying to make things right."
Then I left.
The pawn shop was on a busy street near the old bus station.
I drove there with the paper folded in my pocket.
I kept thinking about Jennifer's confession.
I kept hearing her say that she had believed I would not notice.
That sentence hurt more than the sale itself.
It told me how little she understood the place Eleanor still held in my life.
When I arrived, I parked outside and sat in the car for a moment.
I did not know what I would say.
I did not know whether the necklace was still there.
I did not know whether I could afford to buy it back.
But I knew I had to try.
I walked inside.
A young man stood behind the counter.
I explained that my daughter had sold a silver pendant there the previous week.
He asked for her name.
I gave it to him.
He checked a computer, then opened a drawer beneath the counter and removed a folder.
After a few minutes, he nodded.
"We have the item."
My knees nearly weakened.
"You still have it?"
"Yes, sir."
I placed both hands on the counter.
"Can I buy it back?"
He explained the amount required and the conditions of the sale.
I agreed to pay.
Then he disappeared into the back room.
I waited, staring at the glass display case.
Inside were rings, watches, chains, and objects that had once meant something to people who could no longer afford to keep them.
I wondered how many owners had stood where I stood, hoping to recover a piece of their lives.
The young man returned carrying a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was Eleanor's necklace.
I recognized the pendant immediately.
The chain had been coiled into a tight circle, and the silver surface looked dull beneath the shop lights.
But it was hers.
I felt tears rise before I could stop them.
The man placed the bag on the counter.
"Before we finish, sir, there's something you should know."
I looked up.
He seemed uncertain how to explain what he had discovered.
"When we checked the pendant, we noticed that it wasn't a solid piece."
My breath caught.
"What do you mean?"
He turned the bag slightly so I could see the pendant's edge.
"There appears to be a hidden opening."
I stared at it.
For three years, I had believed I knew every detail of that necklace.
I had watched Eleanor wear it.
I had held it in my hand.
I had kept it beside my bed.
Yet I had never known it could open.
The young man looked at me.
"Would you like us to examine it more carefully before you take it home?"
I looked at the pendant through the plastic.
Then I nodded.
"Yes," I said. "Please."
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Pawn Shop Owner Opened the Pendant Carefully, and What He Found Made Me Realize My Wife Had Been Carrying a Secret Beside Her Heart
I Thought Grief Was the Hardest Thing I Would Ever Survive Until Something Precious Disappeared From My Bedroom
Part 7 of 20
