The clerk pulled the drawer, and he reached in first, and I saw his hand stop. He didn’t touch the ring. He just stared at something underneath the velvet tray, and then he looked at me with an expression I’d never seen before. I asked what it was, and he said, “Nothing.” The clerk quietly lifted the tray and found an envelope with my name written across it.
I recognized the handwriting immediately. It was my grandmother’s. My husband tried to take it from the clerk, but she stepped back and said it had to stay with the contents until ownership was established. I opened it with shaking hands, and inside was the original appraisal for the ring — along with a note explaining that my grandmother had placed it in the box herself before she died.
The appraisal was dated 1998, and the value was almost six times what my husband had told me the ring was worth. But that wasn’t the worst part. Attached to the appraisal was a copy of the safe-deposit inventory, and beside the ring was a handwritten note: “To remain the sole property of my granddaughter. Her husband is not to have access.” I looked at him, and for once, he had nothing to say.
