"Before we finish," she said, "may I show you something about the setting? I want to make sure it's comfortable for someone who actually intends to wear it." David looked up, touched by the practicality of the question. "My wife gardens," he told her. "She'll probably wear it to breakfast once, tell me it's much too beautiful for everyday life, and then hide it in a drawer so it won't get caught on a branch."
Emma laughed softly. "Then we'll make sure the clasp is secure, and perhaps choose a chain that can be shortened for different clothes. She should be able to enjoy it without feeling she has to put it away for safekeeping." She lifted the chain with gloved fingers and explained its craftsmanship without making David feel he was being lectured. Her words were precise and patient, and the ordinary professionalism of them began to restore something Victor had disturbed.
David studied the pendant carefully. The sapphire was not the same shade as Evelyn's old one; this was the blue of the sky just after sunset, while the original had seemed almost violet when the light was poor. The surrounding diamonds were finer and more evenly set, but their pattern created the same small circle of light. He wondered whether Evelyn would notice the differences immediately or whether she would first notice the memory.
"There's a photograph of her wearing the old one," Emma said, nodding toward the paper he had spread on the counter. "Would it be all right if I looked once more? I want to compare the proportions." He handed it to her, grateful that she asked rather than simply reaching for it, and watched her examine the image with the attention of someone inspecting a treasure rather than an old family snapshot.
"It looks as though the original pendant sat just below her collarbone," Emma observed. "We can adjust this chain to sit at nearly the same place, or a little lower if she prefers. And the stone's weight is similar enough that it won't feel unfamiliar." David nodded slowly, surprised at the care contained in details he might never have considered.
"I'd like it to remind her of the original," he said. "But I don't want it to make her feel that I expect us to go backward. We have a good life now, Emma. I wouldn't trade the people we've become for the chance to be young again." He looked at the faded photograph and smiled. "Not even on the days my knees hurt."
Emma returned the photograph to him. "Then maybe that's what makes the gift different," she replied. "It's not a replacement for your old life. It's something that belongs to the life you have now." David held her gaze for a moment, then glanced back at the pendant, recognizing the truth in a sentence she had offered without knowing how long he had been wrestling with it.