Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE GREEN BERET
"Who told you to put the necklace in water?"
Julian repeated the question, and something inside me finally broke.
Not because he was shouting.
He wasn't.
His voice was quiet, almost pleading.
But there was no innocent reason for him to know what the water had done.
I stepped away from the kitchen doorway.
"Why does it matter?"
He looked down at the glass.
"Because you shouldn't have done that."
"Why?"
"It's complicated."
"Then explain it."
He set the glass carefully on the counter.
"Morgan, I need you to trust me."
I nearly laughed.
For eight years, I'd trusted him with my paycheck, my savings, and our future.
And now he wanted my trust while standing beside a necklace with something hidden inside it.
"Tell me what was in that pendant."
His eyes moved toward the apartment door.
"Not here."
"This is our home."
"I know."
"Then talk."
He rubbed both hands across his face.
"Victor arranged the necklace."
Victor Sloane.
The investor from Greystone.
The man who had suddenly become so important to my husband.
"What does Victor have to do with my jewelry?"
Julian swallowed.
"He said it was a way to help us."
"Help us do what?"
"Get out of debt."
I stared at him.
"By putting something inside a necklace?"
He shook his head.
"He told me it was a security feature. Something that could be used to confirm your identity for a financial transaction."
"Through my skin?"
"I didn't know about the holes."
"Julian."
"I swear, Morgan. I didn't know it was dangerous."
Before I could answer, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Two police officers appeared outside our open door.
I'd given the dispatcher my address and explained that the necklace might contain an unknown hazardous material.
One officer asked us to move away from the counter.
The other requested identification.
Julian's face changed when he realized I'd called the police.
"You reported me?"
"I reported something hidden in a gift you insisted I wear."
"I was trying to fix our lives."
"No. You were trying to sell my grandmother's house."
He didn't deny it.
The officers separated us.
They arranged for appropriate personnel to secure the glass and necklace without unnecessary handling.
I provided my photographs and explained what had happened.
Julian repeated his claim that Victor had supplied the pendant.
When one officer asked for Victor's contact information, Julian hesitated.
Then he gave it.
I watched my husband sit at our dining table while the officers questioned him.
He looked smaller than I'd ever seen him.
And still, a terrible part of me wanted to comfort him.
That's what eight years of marriage can do.
It teaches your heart habits your mind no longer trusts.
Eventually, the officers told us the situation required further investigation.
There wasn't enough information yet to establish what the material was or who had placed it there.
But they documented the incident and collected the evidence.
I packed an overnight bag.
Julian followed me into the bedroom.
"Please don't leave."
I folded my sweater without looking at him.
"I can't stay here tonight."
"Victor has people depending on this deal."
I stopped.
"What deal?"
He said nothing.
"Julian, look at me."
He raised his eyes.
"What have you promised him?"
His face seemed to collapse.
"I promised him you'd at least consider selling."
I closed the suitcase.
"Then you promised something that wasn't yours."
Nina picked me up twenty minutes later.
I spent the night in her guest room, staring at the ceiling.
The following morning, I went to Ward & Bell Jewelry Restoration.
Nina came with me.
The shop stood between a bakery and a dry cleaner on a quiet Oak Park street.
A faded brass bell hung above the door.
Inside were glass cases filled with watches, wedding rings, and old silver lockets.
An elderly man stood behind a wooden counter.
He looked at me, then at Nina.
"Which one of you called yesterday?"
"I did," I answered.
"My name's Morgan."
His face tightened.
"Wait here."
He disappeared through a curtain.
A minute later, I heard footsteps.
And then I smelled lavender.
The woman who emerged wore a gray trench coat over a blue cardigan.
Her hair was neatly pinned beneath a green beret.
My knees nearly gave way.
It was the woman from the bus.
She stopped when she saw me.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I couldn't speak.
She approached slowly.
"Did you put it in the water?"
I nodded.
Her shoulders dropped with relief.
"Thank goodness."
Nina stepped forward.
"Mrs. Ward, we're trying to understand what's happening."
The elderly woman looked toward the man behind the counter.
"Thomas, please lock the front door for a few minutes."
He did.
Then Evelyn Ward invited us into a small room behind the shop.
There were three chairs, a workbench, and an enormous magnifying lamp.
On the wall hung framed photographs of the store dating back more than fifty years.
Evelyn sat opposite me.
"I'm sorry I frightened you on the bus."
"How did you know who I was?"
She looked ashamed.
"Your husband showed me your photograph."
I felt sick.
"When?"
"Nine days before I met you."
She explained that Julian had visited the shop carrying a gold pendant and asking whether its backing could be modified.
He claimed the necklace was a surprise for his wife.
But the specifications he brought made Evelyn suspicious.
"He wanted a removable compartment behind the pendant," she said. "Something that would sit close to the skin."
"Did you make it?"
"No."
She folded her hands.
"I refused."
Thomas brought a small repair ledger from the front.
Evelyn opened it to a marked page.
There was Julian's name.
A date.
And a notation written in blue ink.
Customer requested nonstandard backing. Work declined.
Below it was a description of the oval pendant.
Evelyn explained that her late husband had used an E.W. maker's mark when restoring jewelry under her name.
Some older pendants still carried it.
Julian had apparently purchased one secondhand, then brought it to her for alteration.
"After I refused, a younger man came back," Evelyn continued.
"Victor?" I asked.
She nodded.
"He wanted the same modification. I told him no."
"Then how did the necklace end up altered?"
"I believe they took it somewhere else."
She paused.
"Victor became angry. He told me I was interfering with a private medical arrangement."
My throat tightened.
"Medical?"
"He used the word treatment."
I looked at Nina.
She was sitting completely still.
Evelyn continued.
"I've seen people hide perfume or keepsakes inside pendants. But this was different. There was something about the instructions that frightened me."
"Why follow me onto a bus?"
"Because when Julian came here, I saw your photograph beside a page listing your work address and commute. After Victor returned, I couldn't stop thinking about it."
She looked down.
"I waited near your office building, hoping to find you before he gave you the necklace. When I saw you boarding the bus, I followed."
"And you knew I was married because of the photograph."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me everything?"
"Because I didn't know who you could trust. I wasn't even certain you knew what your husband was planning."
Tears gathered in her eyes.
"I wanted you to have time to discover it safely."
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then Evelyn looked at the silver bracelet on my wrist.
Her expression changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"My grandmother."
She leaned closer.
"May I see the apple?"
I held out my hand.
Evelyn touched the little silver charm with one trembling finger.
"Clara Bennett," she whispered.
I stared at her.
"You knew my grandmother?"
Evelyn nodded.
"For thirty-seven years."
I felt as if the floor had shifted beneath me.
She stood and walked toward a cabinet.
From a drawer, she removed an old photograph.
Three women stood beneath apple trees.
One was Evelyn, much younger.
Another was my grandmother Clara.
And beside them stood a woman I didn't recognize.
Evelyn handed me the photograph.
"Your grandmother came to me about Victor Sloane's father years ago."
I looked up sharply.
"Why?"
Evelyn's eyes filled with sadness.
"Because he tried to take her cottage."
She pointed at the third woman.
"That was Caroline Ames. She lost her family home after signing papers she couldn't remember signing."
I studied the photograph.
On the back, in my grandmother's familiar handwriting, were six words.
Keep the orchard out of their hands.
Evelyn reached into the drawer again.
This time, she removed a yellowed newspaper clipping.
A small headline described Caroline's unexplained hospitalization twenty-three years earlier.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
Caroline had reported confusion, severe weakness, and memory gaps before a disputed property transaction.
The purchase had been arranged by a company owned by Victor Sloane's father.
Evelyn watched me carefully.
"There's something else you need to understand, Morgan."
"What?"
She took a folded letter from the drawer.
May you like
It bore my grandmother's handwriting.
"Clara believed they would come back for the orchard after she died. And she left instructions about what you should do when they did."
