I got up from the couch and went down the hall into the master bathroom, leaving the door open behind me.

I pulled the shiny chrome chain on the vanity lights, flooding the mirror and the counter with clear white light.

I laid the open album on the marble counter next to the brass faucets and looked at the picture again under the harsh bulbs.

There was no mistaking those pearls.

The silver leaf clasp had a tiny nick on the left stem from when Megan dropped it on a concrete porch at twelve years old.

Every lie she’d ever told me about Megan was right there in the metal and stone sitting against her skin.