Chapter 12: Christmas Eve on Elm Street
At 4:00 PM on Christmas Eve, the snow was falling softly over the quiet streets of Cleveland.
Morris Kaufman was preparing to pull down the security gate of his jewelry shop when the brass bell above the door chimed.
Amanda stepped inside.
She wore a simple dark wool coat, her boots dusted with fresh snow, her face glowing with health and cold air. She carried no designer purse. In her hand, she held a certified cashier's check for eighteen thousand dollars.
Morris stopped, his hand on the metal gate switch, a broad, radiant smile spreading across his weathered face.
""You're right on time, Amanda,"" Morris said softly.
Amanda walked to the counter and laid the check flat against the glass.
Morris walked into the back vault, returning a moment later with the black leatherette tray.
He opened the velvet box.
The art-deco diamond necklace caught the warm holiday shop lights, its twelve European-cut stones sparkling with an ethereal, living brilliance.
Amanda picked up the necklace.
It did not feel like a piece of expensive jewelry. It felt like an anchor—a sacred, unbroken cord connecting her to the grandmother who had survived the Great Depression, and the father who had sacrificed his own heart to keep her safe.
""Thank you, Mr. Kaufman,"" Amanda whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Morris reached across the counter and covered her calloused hand with his own.
May you like
""Your father’s soul is resting easy tonight, my dear,"" Morris smiled. ""Go home to your mother.""
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