Chapter 1 - The Ring
“That’s Mommy’s ring.”
My three-year-old daughter said it so clearly that every conversation around the dinner table stopped.
For half a second, no one moved.
Then somebody laughed.
It wasn’t cruel laughter. Not at first.
It was the nervous kind adults use when a child says something uncomfortable and nobody knows what to do with it.
Rosie stood in the doorway of the dining room wearing pink pajamas, one sock twisted around her ankle, her stuffed rabbit hanging from one hand.
Her mother had been dead for nineteen days.
Nineteen.
And there I was, sitting beside my fiancée at an engagement dinner that had been planned months before Sofia died.
I already felt guilty enough about that.
Now my daughter was pointing at Vivienne’s left hand.
“That’s Mommy’s.”
Vivienne gave a soft laugh.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Rosie didn’t smile.
She walked closer.
“That ring belongs to Mommy.”
My mother cleared her throat.
“Daniel, maybe Rosie should be upstairs.”
“No.”
The word came out sharper than I meant.
I looked at Vivienne.
She was wearing a narrow platinum band with a small diamond set low into the metal.
I had seen it before.
At least I thought I had.
Vivienne touched Rosie’s hair.
“Lots of ladies have shiny rings.”
Rosie pulled away from her.
“No.”
Her bottom lip trembled.
“That’s Mommy’s special one.”
Something cold moved through me.
Sofia and I had been divorced for almost two years before she died.
The marriage had ended badly, but we had worked hard to become good parents to Rosie.
There were things I no longer remembered about Sofia.
Her coffee order.
The name of the perfume she wore during our first year of marriage.
But I remembered that ring.
It wasn’t our wedding ring.
It had belonged to Sofia’s grandmother.
Sofia wore it on her right hand whenever she was nervous.
I reached across the table.
“Vivienne.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Let me see the ring.”
She hesitated.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Then she smiled and held out her hand.
“Daniel, seriously?”
I turned the ring over.
My heart stopped.
Inside the band was a tiny star.
Crooked.
Uneven.
Almost childish.
Sofia had carved it herself when she was seventeen because her grandmother told her that perfect things were usually fake.
I could hear Sofia laughing as she told me that story.
I dropped Vivienne’s hand.
“Where did you get this?”
The room went silent.
Vivienne blinked.
“A vintage dealer.”
“What dealer?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You bought an antique ring and don’t remember where?”
Her face tightened.
“Why are you interrogating me in front of everyone?”
Rosie tugged on my sleeve.
“Daddy.”
I crouched beside her.
“What is it, baby?”
She leaned close enough that her hair brushed my cheek.
“Mommy kept it in the brown box.”
I swallowed.
“What brown box?”
“By her bed.”
Vivienne stood.
“This is ridiculous.”
Rosie looked at her.
Then she said something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“Mommy said the shiny lady wanted her things.”
Vivienne went pale.
I stood slowly.
“Security.”
Two men near the dining room entrance turned toward me.
Vivienne stared at me.
“Daniel, don’t.”
I pointed toward the doors.
“Lock the house.”
My mother gasped.
“What are you doing?”
“Every door,” I said.
“No one leaves.”
Vivienne’s eyes changed.
The warmth disappeared.
The charm disappeared.
For the first time since I had known her, I saw something underneath.
Calculation.
Rosie squeezed my hand.
Then she whispered,
May you like
“Mommy said there was something under the bunny.”
And I knew this night was nowhere near over.
