I buried my mother with her most precious heirloom 25 years ago. I was the one who placed it inside her coffin before we said goodbye. So imagine my face when my son’s fiancée walked into my home wearing that exact necklace, right down to the hidden hinge.

I called Will the next morning and told him I had some family history to share with Claire when they were ready. He said they’d come for dinner on Sunday. I told him I’d make the lemon pie again.

I looked up at the ceiling the way you do when you’re talking to someone who isn’t there anymore.

“It’s coming back into the family, Mom,” I said softly. “Through Will’s girl. She’s a good one.”

I could’ve sworn the house felt a little warmer after that.

Mom wanted the necklace buried so her children wouldn’t fight over it. And somehow, across all of it, the necklace had still found its way home. If that isn’t luck, I honestly don’t know what is.

“It’s coming back into the family, Mom.”