The Pocket Watch a Little Girl Brought to Dinner

CHAPTER 1 - The Watch at Table Nine

"My mommy gave it to me."

The little girl said it with a shaking chin and brave eyes, standing beside Table Nine in the elegant dining room of the Delacourt.

Claire Winthrop stared at her.

The gold pocket watch rested in the child's dirty hands like something sacred. Claire had not seen it in more than seven years.

Her fingers closed around the watch. Her emerald ring flashed in the soft restaurant light.

Claire's breath left her in a rush.

"Where did you get this?" she whispered.

The child swallowed. "My mommy kept it in her box. She said if I ever got scared, I should bring it to the lady who looked like she was waiting."

Claire almost stepped back.

Waiting.

That word belonged to another life. One built around a husband, a nursery, and a daughter named Lily who had vanished from her world before she learned to walk.

The girl's dark green dress was frayed at the collar. Dust marked her knees. She was hungry, or tired, or both. Claire should have called security. Instead, she crouched until they were eye level.

"What's your name?"

"Anna."

"Who is your mother?"

Anna hesitated, then looked past Claire toward the entrance. "She's outside. She said I had to do this alone."

Claire turned, searching the polished room, the brass sconces, the mirrored wall. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt.

Then she saw the woman near the doorway.

She was half in shadow, one hand braced against the frame, a scarf pulled high around her throat. But Claire knew that face.

It was impossible.

Because Claire had buried that face in grief long ago.

And because the woman by the door was supposed to be dead.