Emily's Ghost Read Online Free Page A

and
amused, they wandered aimlessly and contentedly through the lineup
of exquisite shops on Newbury Street. They paused to stroke a fine
Italian handbag here, an Inuit soapstone carving there. They stared
in the window of a florist for a full ten minutes, choosing the
flowers for their wedding bouquets, just in case. Cara tried on an
Australian outback coat and a pair of lizard boots, bought them,
and arranged to have them delivered. The bill came to $3,l37.40.
She wrote a check.
    Emily didn't mind. She
figured that in Boston she could get along pretty well without
either an outback coat or lizard boots. In general she felt pretty
immune to impulse buying. She tried on a handmade sweater from
Ireland, for example, but convinced herself that it was too
scratchy. She picked up a stoneware mug from Scotland and walked
around with it for a while, but then she put it back on its shelf.
It wasn't hard: in every shop, thoughts of her mortgage hovered
sadistically overhead.
    Until she ambled up to the
window of a shop called, with charming understatement, "Something
Old." The shop specialized in estate jewelry, and the window
display was enchanting. Scattered on a bed of deep maroon velvet
were a dozen pieces of antique jewelry, mostly of diamonds and
pearls. Their owners were there too, in sepia photographs whose
edges were curled with age--grand ladies in fin de siècle ball gowns, their
throats ringed in thick chokers of pearls, their tiny waists
encircled with diamonds. There were tools of their trade as well: a
mother-of-pearl hairbrush and a silver comb, and an intricate,
hand-painted fan of ebony. In every fold of velvet a random
treasure lay partly hidden: a ruby hat-pin; a set of pearl
tear-drop earrings; a tortoiseshell button-hook.
    Emily was charmed by all
of it, from the tiara to the button-hook. But it was a necklace of
pale pink stone that cast a spell over her and held her fast. It
was not a magnificent piece, or even an elegant piece. It was -- an
odd piece. The big rectangular stone, set in delicate gold filigree
but hung on an extremely heavy chain, was like nothing else in the
window. Emily couldn't imagine a woman of either taste or wealth
having adorned herself with it, and yet it was undeniably old.
Something about it -- the way the track lighting bounced off its
facets, or the gypsy look of it -- made her want to know
more.
    From over her shoulder she
heard Cara say, "What a funky piece. I like it."
    The words struck dread in
Emily's heart. Until this moment she had not known she wanted the
necklace. "I like it, too," she said, a little fiercely.
    "Let's go in and try it
on, then," said Cara, oblivious to the fact that there were two
of them and only
one of it . She
looped her arm through Emily's and tugged. "Maybe it's some rare
and exotic stone."
    "You mean rare and
expensive stone," Emily said wryly. This
is going to be it , she thought. The thing that finally does in this screwy,
illogical friendship . But she went in with
Cara anyway, trying desperately not to resent her money.
    The saleswoman, a Coco
Chanel lookalike, passed immediately over Emily to focus on the
Possible Sale. "May I help you?" she asked Cara in a cultivated
voice.
    "Yes, that funny
pink-stone necklace in the window," said Cara. "We'd like to see
it."
    The saleswoman wasn't
quick enough to hide her surprise and -- Emily thought --
disappointment. "Oh. That one. Certainly."
    By the time she laid it
out carefully on a swatch of black velvet, though, the woman was
back in business. "It's a charming little trinket, don't you think?
It's turned quite a few heads. Very unusual."
    Cara lifted it from it
from the velvet and said, "Heavy; is the chain solid
gold?"
    Emily's hopes
sank.
    "Oh, no," said the
saleswoman, releasing a tiny smile. "Some sort of plating. The
stone is possibly rose quartz, or maybe pink tourmaline. It's
costume, which is why the price is so reasonable."
    Emily's hopes
rose.
    Cara turned over the tiny
white stringed tag.