Breaking the Bank by Yona Zeldis McDonough Read Free Book Online

direction.
    â€œThis is
so
pretty,” said Eden, gesturing to a cameo brooch pinned to a piece of black velvet. “Look at her face—it’s, like, perfect. How did they do that?” Mia leaned over to see. The girl’s tiny features were expertly carved, and a tendril of hair escaped from her chignon, grazing her smoothly rendered cheek. The thing was no bigger than a domino.
    â€œThat’s one of the best pieces in the shop,” said the man behind the counter. His voice was reedy, as if he didn’t use it often. “You have a good eye.”
    â€œI know,” Eden said serenely. “People have said that to me before.”
    â€œAre you looking for cameos? Because I’ve got others.” He began to look around, his head stretching on his neck like a large turtle. Mia didn’t know how he could locate anything in all the mess. The displays—if you could grace them with such a word—were no better than those in the window, everything crammed and jumbled. But Eden seemed entranced—touching this, exclaiming over that.
    â€œAll this stuff is really old, right?” she asked.
    â€œAbsolutely,” said the man. “And every piece has a story.”
    â€œReally? Tell me about this one.” Eden pointed to another pin. Eight little gold birds sitting on a golden branch. Several sparkling chips— red, blue, green—were set into their tails.
    â€œOh, now that. Well, that piece was made in Canada, yes, it was. And an older gentleman bought it for his granddaughter, who musthave been, let me see . . .” He looked at Eden, clearly trying to assess her age. “Eleven. Yes, that was it. Eleven.”
    â€œI’m almost eleven,” Eden said proudly.
    â€œWell, this little girl’s name was Alice, and she . . .”
    Mia stopped listening. She was trying to figure out a way to extricate herself without actually having to buy something. Eden’s impulse was undeniably sweet and even laudable, but the last thing Mia needed now was a piece of jewelry when she was worried about her rent, electric bills, and Eden’s impending orthodontia. Then she saw it. A flat gold locket, maybe two inches across, suspended from a braided gold chain. It was perfectly round and sported no embellishment of any kind. Simple, but elegant. Rich, but restrained. The kind of thing that looked like it would be passed down, woman to girl, for generations. She had to touch it, to try it on.
    â€œNow those earrings—the stones are topaz, by the way—were worn by a famous actress on the Broadway stage . . .” the man was saying to an increasingly enchanted Eden.
    The locket seemed to settle into the perfect spot on Mia’s neck. It was heavy enough to feel substantial but light enough to be worn every day. Peering down, she clicked open the cunningly hidden clasp at the bottom. A pair of time-bleached photographs, a tow-headed boy and girl, squinted back at her. Someone’s darlings. She closed it again. Under her fingers, the gold tablet felt smooth and almost edible; she had an urge to take it in her mouth. What would gold taste like anyway?
    â€œAh, you found it!” He turned his gaze to Mia. “Keats’s locket.”
    â€œKeats? Who’s he?” asked Eden.
    â€œAn English poet who lived a long time ago.”
    â€œDid he own that necklace?”
    The man smiled. “Not likely. I just call it that because it seems like something he would have liked. Something he might have given to Fanny.” He directed this comment to Mia.
    â€œFanny?” Eden asked.
    â€œHis beloved,” the man answered. “But he died young and didn’t get to marry her.” When he saw the look on Eden’s face, he continued. “Fanny would have cherished that locket; she would have worn it every day of her life, to remember him when he was gone.”
    â€œThat’s so sad,” said Eden, seeming to forget that