I sat down.

Then she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a velvet box worn pale at the corners.

“Your grandmother’s garnet.

You remember it on her hand at the kitchen sink.”

I remembered it.

I also remembered the August she took it off, put it in a drawer, and said she wouldn’t wear it while her son was sick.

“The house was never the same after she died,” Victoria said.

She held the box out for three seconds, then four.