“Mom.”
She lowered her eyes.
Her son had Brett’s dark hair and his grandmother Opal’s stubborn mouth.
At twelve years old, he should have been thinking about basketball, wondering if his tie made him look ridiculous, and how much chocolate cake he could steal before the official end of dinner.
Instead, he watched his father enter a ballroom with another woman.
“Don’t cry,” Micah whispered.
Audrey wiped her eyes.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m entitled to one.”
“A what?”
“Tear.”
Micah is thinking.
“All right.”
Then his gaze swept around the room.
In the direction of Sierra.
Towards the brooch shaped like golden wheat.
His expression changed.
Audrey felt her fingers tighten.
“Is this Grandma Opal’s?”
“Great-grandmother Opal.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
Micah’s face turned red.
“Did Dad give it to him?”
Audrey said nothing.
There was no other explanation.
Brett had taken the brooch three weeks earlier.
He had promised to fix it.
Now, it rested above Sierra Vaughn’s heart.
Not lost.
We haven’t forgotten him.
Given.
Micah is lying down.
Audrey grabbed his sleeve.
“Non.”
“Mom.”
“No scene.”
“He stole it.”
“I know.”
“And she wears it.”
“I see that.”
“Then do something.”
Audrey glanced around the ballroom.
