A silver pendant rested against his shirt.
Small.
Oval.
Scratched near the bottom.
I hadn’t seen it in 21 years.
But I knew it.
My father had worn that pendant almost every day of my childhood.
When he died, my mother gave it to my younger brother, Michael.
Michael had been wearing it when he disappeared.
“Diane?”
Noah was looking at me.
I realized Tyler had said something.
“Mom?”
I forced myself to smile.
“I’m sorry. Long day.”
Tyler looked embarrassed.
“Mom, Noah.”
“Of course.”
I put down the spoon before I dropped it.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
Noah smiled.
“You too. Tyler talks about you all the time.”
“Hopefully only the good things.”
“Mostly.”
Tyler nudged him.
Noah laughed.
It should have been an ordinary moment.
Instead, I couldn’t stop staring at the silver pendant.
Michael had been 24 when he vanished.
I was 29.
One Friday in October, my mother called and asked whether I’d heard from him.
