He tapped the glass. “For Cora, who waited. You don’t forget that one. People bring me a hundred lockets a year. That one had a whole marriage in it.”

I put my hand flat on the counter. Nolan put his hand on my back, which he has done since he was four and which still undoes me every time.

“Is there a record?” he asked. “Of who bought it?”

Petrosian looked at him. “There’s a lot sheet. It’s a box number, not a name. The buyer at that sale was a dealer, though. Antiques, Maryville, I think. Bulk buyer.”

“Can we have the box number?”

“Son, that’s a piece of paper in a filing cabinet in the back that I am not required to give to anybody.”