“Yeah, I remember the guy,” he said. “Slick talker. Sold a few rings and a pendant. Let me check.”
He returned from the back with a small velvet tray. My heart nearly burst. The pendant was there, along with my husband’s wedding band and a sapphire ring from my grandmother.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tears in my eyes.
“You’ll need proof to reclaim these officially, but I’ll hold them for you. You got lucky. Most people never see their stuff again.”
Nick was forced to pay restitution to avoid charges, and Ed returned the pieces. But I wasn’t done.
That weekend, a week later, I changed the locks.
When Lisa returned from the store, I sat her down at the kitchen table. Nick wasn’t home yet.
“I love you,” I began, “and I will always love you. But I will not live in the same house as someone who steals from me.”
Her eyes welled up. “Mom, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t.”
“I believe you. But this is my home. I opened it to you both with trust. That trust was broken.”
She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “What do you want me to do?”
“You’ll have to find somewhere else to live. I’ll give you two weeks.”
When Nick came home and found his key didn’t work, the shouting began.
“You’re overreacting!” he barked. “This is crazy!”
Lisa stood in the doorway. “No, Nick. What’s crazy is stealing from my mother and thinking she wouldn’t find out.”
He looked stunned. “You’re taking her side?”
“I’m taking the side of what’s right.”
They left three days later. No goodbyes. Just silence.
