“I need to sell this.”
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice a whisper.
“It was my grandmother’s,” I said, a bit annoyed by the delay. “Look, I just need enough for rent.”
“What was her name?”
I frowned. “Merinda. Merinda L. Why?”
The man’s mouth opened, then closed, before he stumbled back as if the counter had shocked him!
“Miss… you need to sit down,” he muttered, gripping the edge of the counter.
My stomach dropped.
“Where did you get this?”
“Is it fake?” I asked, worried.
He let out a shaky breath.
“No. It’s… It’s real.”
Before I could respond, he grabbed a cordless phone with trembling fingers and hit a speed-dial button.
“I have it,” he said quickly when someone answered. “The necklace. She’s here.”
