Page 43 of When Hearts Surrender

“What on earth?” I whisper.

I thought I saw…I somehow know the inscription and silhouette painting will be inside. I’m as sure of it as I am of my name.

But how?

“Let’s go inside, buy the necklace, and pick up the gift. It’s fucking hot out here,” Taylor grumbles.

My pulse flutters wildly and I’m strangely out of breath. I tie Silas’s leash around the trunk of a small tree and he happily lies on the grass.

Pushing open the doors, I enter a place that could be a time capsule with its dark wood decor, glass cabinets with brass hardware, lit up oil lamps, and a smell of incense in the air.

There are shelves and display cases filled with vintage jewelry, handbags, and the walls are lined with oil paintings—stark portraits of somber people from bygone eras. The corners are filled to the brim with racks of silk scarves, hats, and other knickknacks.

“Welcome to Wraithmoor Antiquities. I’m Eleanor. How may I help you?” an elderly woman with wavy white hair and shrewd eyes asks.

“I’d like to look at the necklace inside the window display, please.”

She stares at me, her dark eyes penetrating as if assessing something, and I fight every urge to shrink from her gaze and run away.

“The Eternal Devotion locket is reserved for someone else. I’m sorry.”

My heart sinks as I gaze forlornly at the locket once more. “Eternal Devotion…what a beautiful name.”

“It is. It’s a rare, handcrafted piece from the mid to late eighteen hundreds. It was said when the locket was found, there was blood on the surface and the clasp was broken.”

The air thins and for a second, the floor spins around me. I grip the glass case in front of me to steady myself.

The shopkeeper continues, “There are many stories about how that happened, but the most popular one was the wearer of the locket tragically passed away and the blood symbolized the last of her beating heart before she departed this world. And so, the locket earned the name ‘Eternal Devotion.’”

“That’s so sad,” Grace murmurs.

“Shit, that’s morbid,” Taylor huffs. “I have a question for you. Why is the store called Wraithmoor Antiquities? It’s a unique name.”

Eleanor is still staring unwaveringly at me, her brows pinching. I gnaw my lip and look away.Why is she looking at me like she’s seen a ghost?

She answers, “My ancestors have lived in the city since the beginning. They were caretakers of an old church on the Upper West Side—Wraithmoor Abbey. Sadly, the abbey burned down a long time ago, but it held a special place in their hearts.”

Wraithmoor Abbey. The name sears into my ears…so familiar yet foreign, and a strange sense of déjà vu washes over me.

“Interesting,” Taylor mumbles before nudging me. “Silas looks impatient. Let’s hurry up.”

I glance outside and see Silas pacing and barking at bystanders. Crap. Any moment now he’ll chew off the leash.

Turning back to Eleanor, disappointment over not being able to buy the necklace still weighing heavily inside my chest, I ask, “Thank you for telling us about the locket and the shop name. Actually, I’m here to pick up an order—a gift from…” My voice trails off, thinking about Maxwell, who’s almost like a stranger to me at this point.

“Her fiancé,” Millie supplies.

“Of course,” Eleanor murmurs. “Name on the order, please?”

“Maxwell Anderson.”

The shopkeeper freezes and looks at me for a few beats.

I nervously tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Is something wrong?”

Her lips curve in an enigmatic smile and she shakes her head. “Nothing, nothing at all. I guess some things are fated.”

Without further explanation, she walks over to the window display, retrieves the locket, and carefully places it into a red velvet jewelry box. She slides it over to me.

---