The floorboards in the lakeside house did not creak when someone stood outside our bedroom door, but the sudden draft of damp lake pine meant the latch had been lifted. A shadow fell across the foot of our bed while the lakeside sun was still a gray line on the water.
Ethan was asleep next to me, his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing with a slow, heavy rhythm that had become familiar over the last twelve months.
I did not move. I watched the shadow stretch across the white quilt until it touched my bare feet.
Grace stood in the doorway, her floral cardigan buttoned wrong by two buttonholes. She was seventy-eight, but her eyes were sharp in the gray dawn, moving from Ethan’s sleeping form to me.
She clasped her hands tightly in front of her waist, her knuckles pale.
“If Ethan offers you the blue box, don’t accept it,” she whispered.
The words were short and urgent. They did not sound like a grandmother greeting a new bride on her first morning in the family.
I sat up slowly, pulling the sheet to my chest, my silver wedding band cold against my skin. I twirled the plain silver band around my finger, a habit I had formed during the long months of wedding planning.
“What box, Grace?” I asked, keeping my voice down.
She did not step into the room. She remained on the threshold, her body stiff.
“He will bring it to you soon,” she said. “Just say no, Natalie. Tell him you want to keep your own things.”
“Is there something wrong with the box?” I asked, hesitating before I agreed to anything. “Ethan told me you had some old jewelry you wanted me to see.”
“It is not just jewelry,” she said, her voice dropping even lower. “It has a cost, Natalie. A cost you cannot afford to pay.”
“What kind of cost?” I asked.
She did not answer. She turned toward the dark hallway, her slippers making no sound on the runner as she walked away.
