Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
The watch is always correct, which is something I love about it. It’s ten minutes to noon.
I have to say, the mystery of the dirty wrist grabber—the bracelet—has bothered me all week, and I’m now pretty excited at the prospect of seeing who owns this thing or comes to pick it up who might know the owner. The whole thing even has butterflies exploding in my stomach.
I go to the back to retrieve the bracelet and pull it from the purple velvet bag, where I placed it after it had been cleaned. It’s not that I want to touch or ogle it, but well, okay, maybe I do. The thing is worth somewhere between one to two hundred thousand grand—I know because I checked it out after I cleaned it. It’s gorgeous, and now that it’s all freshly cleaned, it does indeed sparkle in the lights overhead. Any good jewelry store will have good lighting because it makes everything look that much better. It was the one thing I was an absolute stickler about when I bought the tiny building.
A loud thump comes from overhead. I had to do some major soundproofing after I purchased this place because otherwise, the only thing I’d hear all day while I’m trying to work would be the sounds of my four-year-old son being a regular four-year-old. And let me tell you, four-year-old boys can be very, very loud.
Milo and his nanny, Charlotte, are upstairs right now. Since it’s before noon, they’re probably still watching movies or playing with Milo’s toys. In the afternoon, Charlotte usually takes him to the park or somewhere fun that isn’t indoors, followed by a snack, a nap, then dinner.
The bracelet winks at me as it slithers from the pouch like a white and red snake, curling in the palm of my hand. I stare at it, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry while the overhead lights flicker. I glance up because what the heck is my son doing up there? How can a small child stomp so loudly or jump so fiercely that the lights flicker? Dear lord.
What did the note call this thing? Cursed and dirty. It made me laugh when I read it. Now that it’s in the palm of my hand, it feels warm, like it’s alive. A shiver crawls up my backbone, which causes goosebumps to pebble my arms and probably my legs too, but those are covered with black leggings, so I can’t really tell. I feel cold, though, but the bracelet feels so, so warm in my hand. It feels alive, and it’s as if it could go slithering off my palm, onto the floor, and into a vent or something.
But that is a hard no.
Nope. Not having any disasters happen today. No missing bracelets right before the pick-up time because that’s not how I roll. I stare down at the bracelet.
“Dirty wrist grabber, or whatever your name is, you behave. You hear me? That’s not how I roll here.”
Being a bracelet, of course, it has no response.
“You are kind of a pretty thing, though, aren’t you?”
I often try on the jewelry sent to me as I have a few good mirrors in the store. But no, I don’t do it to be creepy. I do it because I want to make sure I got every spot when I was cleaning. Things can look different when they’re worn than they do lying flat on a table or even in my hand.
I know I’m cutting it close, but something tells me I should make sure this thing is immaculate. I pick up the bracelet—yup, it’s warm—and place it over my left wrist. I deftly do up the clasp, which isn’t easy, but since I’ve had a lot of practice, I can make quick work of things. Then, I walk over to one of the ornate mirrors I have in my store, where the lighting is best since I specially installed them for my customers to use. Most people probably think the mirror is a cheap replica, but if they look closely, they can tell it’s ancient—over two hundred years old. The gold swirl, curlicues, and bent shape of the mirror stare back at me when I lift my wrist.
The lights flicker again.
What in the crazy world? I crank my head up, but there are no mysterious thumps or bangs that accompany the flicker.
To hell with the weird flickers, I study the bracelet on my wrist from every angle. Now that it’s on, it feels lighter than it did in my hand, and it makes me think of things I used to love. Things I haven’t let myself think about in a long time—people, or rather, one person in particular. A rugged face, piercing gray eyes, and rich dark hair with red highlights who was quiet, smart, and always worried about someone breaking his heart, so he chose to do the breaking instead.