Unless it really was O’ma’s necklace. And it had to be—how else could she be wearing it in this photo? That was the only option.
And it made sense, didn’t it? Because why else would she have wanted it back so much? She’d wanted it back because it had always been hers. It had belonged to her all along.
Why had Edward lied? How dare he? For what possible reason could he have had to lie to us?
Except—
Actually,Helenhad told me Edward gave O’ma the necklace. She,technically, had been the one to lie. Had she done it to keep Edward from looking like a thief? To protect the family reputation, which Noah said she valued so much? But for god’s sake. They shouldn’t have lied. Maybe they’d had a reason, but they should have owned up to it, especially now, years later. Was it really easier to try to sweep the truth under the rug and hope I would go away?
I had to tell Noah.
Quick and light-footed, I crossed the lawn, and took a small step up to his side. I placed my hand on the back of his arm. “Hi.”
He beamed at me and took my hand. “This is my girlfriend, Abigail Schoenberg.”
Girlfriend.
I nodded politely during the introductions—ah yes, Representative, nice to meet you, and you, too, news anchor who looks shorter in person, best not to mention—quivering with suppressed tension. When the others returned to their conversation, I stood on my tiptoes and whispered in Noah’s ear. “I have to tell you something.”
He looked at me, took in my expression, and nodded. “Nice talking to you,” he said to the others, and let me drag him away to the edge of the lawn, where the privet hedge rose. We stood in an archway leading to the gardens and roses and gazebo and ocean, a spot of privacy with the rest of the guests drifting before us.
“What?” he asked, half laughing.
“Look at this.” I showed him the photo on my phone, practically bouncing on my toes. “That’s my grandmother’s necklace.”
His eyes focused on mine, confused, intent. He transferred his attention to the screen. “What?”
“The nonprofit I emailed, with the records from the Holtzman House, where my grandmother went. They emailed me their pictures from the year she arrived.”
He took the phone from my hand and enlarged the photo, just as I’d done. “This is her?”
“Yeah. From when she first arrived in the States.” Unable to resist, I gave a little jump. “Noah, she’s wearing the necklace. It washers.”
His mouth worked, a frown swallowed. “But my grandfather gave her the necklace.”
“He didn’t. He clearly didn’t, because they hadn’t even met at this point. He must have—” The wordlieddied on my lips.
His gaze clouded with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
He did. But I couldn’t force him to admit his conclusion. He had to decide to take it in himself. “Noah.”
He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I don’t suppose we suspect it’s a bizarrely identical necklace.”
“We don’t. I’m sorry.” To be honest, I cared less about the deception than finding out ithadbeen Oma’s. She’d been right to want it back; I’d been right to try to find out what happened. “Maybe they got confused, who knows, I don’t care.”
“Why would he have said he’d given it to her, then? Why wouldn’t he have returned it when she asked?”
“I have no idea. But we have to talk to him, again. This is proof, Noah. If we show him this photo—if he knows weknowthe necklace belonged to Ruth—he’ll have to tell us the truth.”
He nodded. “Abigail...”
“Yes?”
He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. I just... I didn’t think they would lie. I thought—I thought they must have reasons for keeping things to themselves.”
“Maybe they did have reasons.”But probably not good ones.“We’ll find out what we can.”
He rubbed his temple. “I need a drink.” He grabbed two glassesof champagne off a passing waiter’s tray, taking an alarmingly large swig. He didn’t meet my eyes, and finished off one flute in a matter of seconds.
