I undid the knot and tipped what was inside into my hand.

A silver locket, a little tarnished around the outer edge, lay against my skin.

I pushed the tiny side clasp with my thumb, and the small oval lid clicked open.

On the left was a faded black-and-white photo of me at nineteen in my high school track jersey behind the church gym.

On the right was a matching photo of Margaret in a printed dress, winking at the camera beneath the oak tree.

“She carried that in her purse every day of her life,” Wade said gently.