That ring.
She held it carefully.
“Can I wear it?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“You’ll lose it.”
“I won’t.”
“You lose your shoes.”
“Only sometimes.”
“Exactly.”
Maeve put it into the small velvet box.
Ellie frowned.
“I’m keeping it when I’m older.”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“It’s in writing.”
“Good.”
Maeve looked at me.
“You really did put your affairs in order.”
I groaned.
“Never say that phrase.”
She laughed.
That was one of the last sounds I remember clearly.
After my death, the newspapers used predictable headlines.
BILLIONAIRE RETAIL FOUNDER LEAVES EMPIRE TO EMPLOYEES.
HOMELESS DISGUISE LED TO FINAL LEGACY PLAN.
CHILD’S SOUP CHANGED TYCOON’S WILL.
