In October, My Husband Left a Manila Envelope on Our Kitchen Table and Walked Out Into the Rain
Beneath two delicate silver chains lay my grandmother’s platinum brooch, set with three small European-cut diamonds.
I picked up the heavy piece of metal, feeling the cool weight of the smooth platinum pressing into my palm.
I walked back into the living room, where Lynn sat watching me from the sofa.
I unzipped the small side pocket of my leather purse, pulled out a black felt pouch, and slipped the diamond brooch inside.
“The pawn shop on Main Street opens at nine in the morning,” I said.
The pawn shop on Oak Ridge Highway did not open until ten o’clock, so I took the felt pouch out of my purse and set it on the nightstand before driving to Sunday service.
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