I bought milk, chicken, and raspberries that morning. Although weird, it was what I needed. Milk for coffee and breakfast, chicken for dinner, and raspberries for my husband’s favorite raspberry and white chocolate cupcakes.
I went to the supermarket for groceries but left with a secret. Our neighbor stood in the dairy aisle. Recent divorcee, blonde, young.
She was browsing the yogurt options, smiling like nothing was wrong. To be honest, she probably didn’t care. Mother’s earrings hung from her ears.
I choked on my breath. My gut curled with sickness. I thought my hands were white as I clutched the shopping basket.
No bloody way. I kept my voice light as I approached her. Hi Mel!
Love the earrings! She smiled, tenderly stroking them like the most valuable objects. They were.
Rachel, thank you! It’s a gift from someone special.”
A present. From someone special.
Someone married? A minor tilt occurred. I swallowed my throat-burning wrath.
Mel stared at me, and I wondered if remorse was devouring her. Though she didn’t act it, something had dampened her brilliance. “Oh, they’re simply beautiful,” I murmured with gritted teeth.
“Didn’t it include a bracelet and pendant? That would be a wonderful set. Blinking at me, she looked confused.
“I would if I had those pieces. But I don’t. Only the earrings.
But maybe my particular someone can give me the full set.”
My footing stabilized. It existed. Derek didn’t only pawn my mother’s valuables.
He gave portion to his mistress. An intelligent, selfish strategy. But he hadn’t planned anything.
Me. I saw the box while vacuuming under the bed, engrossed in housework and a nursery rhyme repeating in my thoughts. Something stopped me.
Could have been instinct. Grief may have heightened my senses. Bending down, I lifted and opened the lid.
Empty. The box containing my greatest valuables was empty. Air exited my lungs.
I forgot the obnoxious nursery rhyme. Instantly, astonishment slammed me across my face. I rose up with trembling hands and wobbly knees.
I searched my bedroom for the earrings, pendant, and bracelet, hoping they would materialize. But they didn’t. Naturally, they didn’t.
Wishful thinking failed. I only showed the box and its valuables to one individual. But would Derek… Could he steal my stuff?
He may have stored them knowing their value. Perhaps he put them in our bank safe deposit box. But why wouldn’t he tell me if he did?
“Derek!” He was sitting with his laptop in the living room when I stormed in. His eyes hardly raised. “What, Rachel?
Too early for this noise.”
My mother’s jewels. Did you take? His brow furrowed in thought.
No, maybe the kids took it. They like dressing up now.”
My stomach twisted again. Why would my kids steal from my room?
They presumably didn’t know about the box. I planned to pass the jewelry to the daughters anyway. Still, kids have sharp eyes.
Maybe someone witnessed something. I turned and went to the playroom, where my three kids were playing with their toys on the floor. “Nora, Eli, Ava,” I spoke breathlessly.
Did someone steal the box from under my bed? Three innocent, big eyes looked at me. “No, Mommy.”
Nora hesitated.
My oldest child, eight. The most empathetic and honest of the three, and the most likely to snuggle when required. Her knowledge would be shared.
“I saw Daddy with it,” she added. He stated it was private. That he would buy me a new playhouse if I didn’t say anything.”
My anger pierced through me.
Someone stole from me. That was my hubby. While playing with the kids, I spent a lot of time thinking about myself.
Finally, I had to approach him. Derek, I know you took it. Where is it?
I requested. He sighed and rubbed his temples like I was the issue. “All right, Rachel.
I got them.”
I blinked slowly. “Why?” I asked plainly. His voice took on my loathed tone.
The sluggish, patronizing tone that always made me cringe. You were devastated when your mom died. I thought a vacation would cheer you up, Rachel.” He took a big swallow from his beer can.
“I pawned them and bought us a trip.”
Curled fists. My vision blurred. I was quite surprised.
“You pawned my mother’s jewelry?! My deceased mother’s stuff!”
“Rachel, we’re struggling! How can you miss it?
Or do you disregard it? The mortgage, bills… I wanted to help you and the kids.”
White-hot wrath overwhelmed me. Ready to burst.
“Where. They? I spat.
Derek, you shouldn’t have done that without asking! Return them. Now!”
His sigh was profound.
OK, I’ll return the tickets. I’ll repair it if you want everyone to suffer like you. Seriously, Rachel, kids notice.
It stinks.”
Before making a mistake, I turned aside. Miserable? Of course I was miserable.
In anguish. I hurt. My heart was broken and my mind a cemetery of memories.
My mother died. My dearest friend, biggest supporter, and greatest lover left. Only two months had passed without her.
My grief was timelined by this man? What the hell? I married whom?
Missing her terribly. Which is why Derek’s actions wounded me so much. My mother left me a lifeline—her jewels.
It was something physical that I could hold or wear for her touch. I remembered her opposition to stay-at-home moms. “Darling,” she murmured, buttering fresh bread.
“You have great potential. Is being a stay-at-home mom right for you, despite its rewards? “I don’t know, Mom,” I said.
“But Derek said we can’t afford a nanny, so I had to be one or pay for one.”
“Promise me one thing, Rachel,” she begged. “Keep writing poetry, darling. Keep that side alive.”
I felt sad thinking about her.
But you know what? Next day, while shopping, I discovered the truth was worse. I smiled at Mel in the grocery store while she raved about breakfast Greek yogurt and chia seeds.
Rachel, it’s the best breakfast. It cleanses the intestines and has more protein than eggs. Girl, add honey or chocolate chips.
She talked quickly, as if trying not to say or think anything that would reveal herself. I smiled like I was about to pull her earrings off. She was clueless.
My husband betrayed her without her knowing. Or did she? I didn’t think she understood its significance from her behavior.
She saw herself utilizing her boyfriend’s expensive gift in front of his wife. So I chose. I would reclaim mine.
Derek was going to pay. The next morning, I played the forgiving wife. Reciting Shakespearean sonnets in my thoughts, I was quiet.
I cooked kids pancakes. For Derek, I made French toast. Unfortunately, my experience with Mel stuck in my thoughts.
He felt relieved, even proud. He probably thought I had slept on it and let it go. He remarked, “It’s good to see you so chipper, Rach.
You know I love that smile.”
I wanted to slap him. Rach, focus on Shakespeare, I thought. Derek, may I see the pawnshop receipt?
I asked pretending to check that everything could be bought back. He sighed and rolled his eyes before handing it over. I called “Nora,” watching her eat pancakes.
Do you want to join Mommy today? Grandma’s jewelry is our goal.”
“Yes!” she exclaimed. Taking my child to a pawnshop was unsettling, but that tiny girl was the only thing that kept me calm.
After dressing, we stood outside the pawnshop. “We’re buying jewelry, Mom?” Nora asks. “Yes, baby girl,” I said.
So I went in and found my mother’s jewelry. It wasn’t hard, but I had to prove ownership. He added, “It would make a good anniversary present for my wife.” “But you look like you’ll cry your little heart out.”
“My mom’s, sir,” I said.
“Please.”
Probably more shocked by being addressed sir, he just gave it up without trying to abuse me with the price. Keeping the receipt. A bit later.
Only one piece remained. The earrings. Flaunted by Derek’s mistress.
I knocked on her door and read my mother’s will, claiming the jewelry was mine. I have a wedding photo of her wearing the ensemble. I then showed her my salvaged necklace and bracelet.
I answered, “These are part of a set. The earrings are family heirlooms, so please return them. Not Derek’s to give.”
She became pale and jaw dropped.
“Rachel… “I had no idea,” she stammered. It seemed like a Derek present. I had no idea it was yours!
I was unaware that it was your mother’s. Her expression changed as she looked down. Disappointment.
Realization follows. “I should have known,” she grumbled. “I thought he was sweet and romantic… but,” she paused, shaking her head.
She ran into her house, reappeared with the earrings, and placed them in my hand without saying a word. “Here,” she said. I don’t own these.
Actually, neither does Derek. He doesn’t belong to you either. If it were easy for him to get with me, Rachel…
