11
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING BEFORE guests rose, Ivy pushed back the drapes in her bedroom to let in the morning sun. A shaft of sunlight illuminated the doll she’d propped on a chair next to her vanity. She shifted Anna out of the direct sunlight and positioned the trunk beside her. Stepping back, she admired the doll’s quaint charm.
Recalling the modest, ruby-and-diamond ring and note she’d found under a floorboard in the closet, she sat at the vanity, slid open the drawer, and lifted the items out. On closer inspection, she saw a tiny inscription inside the ring. Again, she couldn’t make out the words except for the word liebe. Love. A gift to a beloved woman, probably to a wife.
She unfolded the notepaper, where only one line was scrawled in the familiar feathery script that Ivy assume
