Clara only went in to dust them.
That day, she’d put it on her list herself: just a light dusting, nothing important.
As she passed the office on her way to the laundry, she saw the door ajar.
Strange, she thought.
Margaret always kept it closed.
Clara hesitated, then opened it wider.
The jewelry cabinet was locked, the safe hidden behind its panel, everything seemingly in order. Even so, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
She went inside, wiped the glass shelves with a soft cloth, careful not to touch anything, then stepped back and closed the door.
She didn’t see the missing piece.
Not then.
Around 2:00 p.m., the shouting began.
Clara was in the upstairs hallway, vacuuming the carpet.
First, she heard Margaret’s voice.
High-pitched. Thin.
“Impossible! It was right here. RIGHT HERE!”
Then came Adam’s voice, deeper, trying to remain calm.
“Mom, can you…?”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” Margaret interrupted. “Your father gave it to me. It’s all I have left.”
Clara turned off the vacuum cleaner.
The footsteps were approaching the jewelry room.
She pressed herself against the wall as Margaret nearly rammed into her.
“Clara,” Margaret growled. “Did you touch the jewelry cabinet today?”
Clara swallowed.
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