The Ruby Locket by Anita Higman, Hillary McMullen Page B

did know one thing. Before I told Mom about my discoveries, I needed to find out more. No use in worrying her for no reason. She had never dealt well with anxiety.
                  After the last of dinner had been cleared away, except for coffees, Ivan took a small black velvet box out of his jacket pocket and leaned toward Mom, an almost boyish eagerness crossing his face. This must be the locket that Wyatt had gotten out of the chest of drawers, although the box wasn’t quite the right shape to hold it.
                  Taking Mom’s hand, Ivan said, “Since I gave your daughter a gift, it seems only proper that I should give my bride something as well.” He placed the box in her palm. “Here, I hope you like it.”
                  Mom seemed to melt in her chair, her eyes shining. “Oh thank you Ivan. You shouldn’t have.”
                  The effect Ivan had on my mom was plain as day. While I wanted to be happy that she was able to make Bambi eyes at a man after all the grief she’d been through, the scene scared me a bit. She’d fallen so fast. And I prayed that it wasn’t into some kind of trap.
                  Cracking open the box, Mom gasped and pulled out a cameo brooch, ringed in gold. “Oh look, Anne. Isn’t it beautiful?” She held it up for me to see.
                  I nodded, forcing my lips into a smile. Yes, it was beautiful.
                  But it wasn’t the locket. That scoundrel Wyatt lied to me.
                  Mom unhooked the pin. “I’m going to see how it looks.” As she pushed it through the fabric of her blouse, the sharp point snagged the delicate skin of her finger. She winced. “Oh dear, it seems I’ve pricked myself.” Blood—bright against her fair skin—began to pool and spill out of the cut.
                  Knowing that even small scrapes could draw a lot of blood because of Mom’s hemophilia, I turned to Ivan. “We need a bandage.”
                  Ivan sat rooted to his chair, his eyes glistening as he stared at Mom, mesmerized. He seemed to be in some strange trance.
                  Surely Ivan knew about Mom’s ailment. I cleared my throat. “Mr. Helsburg, she needs a bandage. Now…please,” my voice gaining some intensity.
                  Ivan blinked and returned to himself. “Yes, of course.” Walking over to the servant’s entrance, he opened the door and called, “Wyatt. Get some rubbing alcohol and a bandage. Quickly.” Returning to his chair, he comforted Mom with a few gentle words as she attempted to stem the flow of blood.
                  A few moments later, Wyatt came into the room, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, cotton swabs, and a bandage in his hands. Surprisingly, he cleaned Mom’s cut himself and carefully bound up her finger, all with a practiced finesse. I was grateful for that, although he was still a thieving, lying scoundrel.
                  After Mom thanked him, Wyatt started to pick up the first aid supplies. I couldn’t keep myself from speaking up. “Thanks for the help, Wyatt. It seems that the brooch Mr. Helsburg gave my mom is a wee bit sharp.” I looked Wyatt in the eyes and gave my chin a defiant little jerk.
                  If he was attempting to be smug, it wasn’t showing in his face. “Oh…yes. Those things can be rather pointy.” He began to retreat, eyes to the ground.
                  Mom waved her bandaged finger between the two of us. “Wait, have you two met?”
                  “Yes,” I spat. Anger at being tricked and toyed with made me feel reckless. “I met him today rummaging through a chest of drawers in one of the rooms. And I happen to know that—”
                  Wyatt’s voice overpowered mine as he interjected. “That I am soon to be family to you both. After all, I am