She placed a small package on the table.
“And he said something else.”
“What?”
“He says you must keep your promise.”
My grandmother’s name was Zofia.
I unwrapped the package. A tiny copper ring lay inside.
“Grandma? What’s wrong?”
“I know this ring.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d recognize those crooked bends anywhere. Even after eighty-seven years.”
But I had no idea why he’d chosen to return now – or what else he might have kept from me.
She placed a small package.
“Describe him,” I whispered.
“Tall. White hair. Blue eyes. An accent.”
Margaret leaned forward. “Mother, do you recognize it?”
“I made a promise to a boy named Stanislaw. Eighty-seven years ago.”
Emma pulled out a chair. “Grandma, are you telling me somebody just delivered your childhood engagement ring?”
What else he might have kept from me?
“Apparently, I’m still very popular.”
