I let her talk.

And when she said the word jewelry, I lifted my eyes, slowly, and I looked at the gold hummingbird resting against my mother’s collarbone.

“You mean,” I said, “like that one?”

Selina’s hand came up and covered the pendant, as if she could make it disappear by hiding it, and for the first time something flickered behind her eyes that was not performance.

It was fear.