What would you do if you found a necklace worth untold millions in a drawer full of old socks that obviously didn’t belong to you? (I mean the necklace doesn’t belong to you, not the drawer full of old socks, LOL).
Okay, this sock drawer isn’t yours, but you inherited a house with the old socks.
Would you stuff it back into the sock drawer?
Would you take it to a jeweler to see what it is worth?
Would you report it to the police?
Would you sell it?
Would you keep it?
Would you wear it?
Maybe you would hide it and look at it occasionally, but keep it a secret?
I’ll never forget my first visit to the Smithsonian Museum in Washington, D.C. My first target was to see the Hope Diamond, because I was working on this book and wanted to see what a necklace worth untold millions looked like. It was the weekend, so the display case was crowded. But I managed to peek in and see what I had longed to see.
It’s funny, because I’m not really a jewelry person. I wear earrings 2-3 times out of 5. Many days, I prefer no jewelry.
Reagan McKinney, in Burn on the Western Slope finds such a necklace. Maybe it isn’t the Hope Diamond, but she’s never seen anything else like it. Here’s an excerpt of her discovery:
Restless, she skated across the floor in her socks. Maybe she should unpack. That’d give her something to do. It’d simplify her search for what clothes to wear. It might also convince her to finally splurge on new clothes.
And just because she was unpacking didn’t mean she was settling.
Before she unpacked, she needed to clear out a drawer and make room. That task would be easier. She wouldn’t be storing her clothes in a confined space, confining her. She’d be focusing on Ray’s clothes. Opening up space for her.
She wound the music box and settled on the floor. “Ave Maria,” a beautiful but haunting melody she wouldn’t recognize if it hadn’t been for elementary school ballet, filled the silence.
Opening the drawers, her mood slumped. She couldn’t get rid of his things. So she’d stuff his socks in a drawer with his t-shirts and leave one free drawer for her clothes. Plus, she’d have extra closet space if she ever made it that far.
Lifting one of his shirts, she sniffed it and wondered if all the men of this town smelled like musk and wood. No, this shirt was more musty than musky, but still held a romantic appeal.
She pulled out a sock. A basic white sock. Something shimmery caught her eye. More sparkly socks? The ones she’d received in the mail nested in their container inside the closet. Curious, she pulled the item loose.
A necklace clumped to the floor.
No. Not a necklace. More like a . . . museum artifact. Reagan stared, her heart filling the cavity between her ears.
The music box clicked. Stopped. Silence lingered, more haunting than the song.