Two cartons of premium juice, three kinds of imported cheese, smoked sausage, fresh mushrooms, and a dozen other things. She had even grabbed a good bottle of wine. “Happy holiday, ma’am,” an unshaven older man in a worn jacket said, holding the heavy door for her.
“Thanks,” Anna muttered, heading outside with her overloaded bags. She gave a bitter little smile to herself. Well, there it was. These days the only men congratulating her on a holiday were random old guys at the grocery store.
Successful, decent men didn’t even look her way anymore. It had been six months since the divorce, and she hadn’t met anyone worth a second glance. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been looking.
Truth be told, she didn’t think she needed anyone. She could handle her own life just fine. She was free now. Independent.
And then, for some reason, she thought of that old rolled-up rug still sitting in the closet. Psychologists were always saying that if you wanted a new life, you had to clear out the old junk. Maybe that dusty old thing was the last piece of bad luck hanging around.
So as she hauled the bags home, Anna made up her mind. She’d get rid of the rug tonight. And tomorrow—on the holiday—her new life would officially begin. That was her promise to herself.
The hallway in her building smelled the way it always did: cats, fried potatoes, and something faintly like old incense. Anna wrinkled her nose, tightened her grip on the bags, and climbed the stairs. Tomorrow, she told herself, she would have a real holiday too.
And maybe—just maybe—she’d even meet the person who would change her life. Once inside, she set the groceries on the kitchen counter without even taking off her shoes. Then she headed straight for the closet.
The rolled-up rug stood there wedged beside an old travel bag hanging from a giant bent nail. Anna grabbed the rug and pulled. It shifted onto her shoulder with surprising softness, then refused to come any farther.
She grunted under the weight and tugged harder. The thing seemed stuck fast, as if it knew exactly what she planned to do with it. She yanked again, harder this time.
Something tore. The rug finally came loose, but when she got it into the hallway, she lost her grip and it crashed to the floor with a heavy thud. Anna muttered under her breath and sat down beside it.
Now she was supposed to drag this monster all the way outside? She looked at the rolled-up rug and then at her hands, red from carrying groceries. But she had come this far. She stood up to try again.
That was when she noticed something glinting on the new floor. It had clearly fallen out of the rug. Anna crouched down and picked it up.
It was a heavy antique gold locket on a thick chain. Where in the world had that come from? She turned the rug over and saw that a small hidden pocket had been sewn into the back.
One side of the fabric pocket had ripped open. That must have been what snagged on the nail in the closet. But what was this old locket, and who had hidden it there?
Anna turned it over in her hands and found a tiny button on the side. The locket opened with a soft click. On one side was a photo of a young woman who looked strikingly like Anna herself. On the other was a young man in a sailor’s cap and striped shirt.
Along the edge was an engraved inscription: “Natalie and Peter, forever together.” In the black-and-white photo, Anna immediately recognized her mother, Natalie. That had been her legal name.
But who was the young man in uniform? Could that be her father—the man she had never known? The thought hit her so hard she could barely breathe…
