back.”
The girl quickly opened her cloth pouch and emptied it onto the counter.
Coins scattered everywhere. Quarters rolled under Edward’s hand. Dimes clinked against the glass. Nickels landed beside a few wrinkled dollar bills. Pennies slid toward the edge, and the child caught them with both palms before they fell.
“I have more,” she said quickly. “See?”
Edward looked down at the pile. “How much is all that?”
“Eighty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents,” she said carefully. “I counted it three times.”
Frank shook his head. “The bracelet is eight hundred.”
The girl lowered her eyes. “I know.”
Something about that answer unsettled Edward more than tears would have. She knew she was nowhere close. She knew the numbers did not add up. Yet she had come anyway.
“What’s your name?” Edward asked.
“Annie.”
“And where is your mother right now?”
“At home.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
Annie looked at the coins.
Edward sighed softly. “That means no.”
“She was tired,” Annie said. “And I didn’t want her to cry again.”
Frank looked away first.
Edward stayed still. “Why do you think I should help you, Annie?”
She blinked at him as if the answer should have been obvious. “Because you look like someone who could.”
That struck him with unexpected force.
All his adult life, people had looked at him that way. Investors. Politicians. Charities. Friends he barely knew. Relatives who had appeared only after his name began appearing on magazine covers. They all saw what he could do before they saw who he was.
Edward lifted the folded $50 bill slightly. “Do you know how many people ask me for help every week?”
Annie shook her head.
“A lot,” he said. “People with stories. People who need money. People who are in trouble. People who swear their problem matters more than anyone else’s.”
The child listened without interrupting.
“And I don’t know you,” Edward continued. “I don’t know your mother. I don’t know if any of this is true.”
Annie’s fingers tightened around the pouch.
“So tell me something,” he said. “If I help you, what do I get in return?”
Frank looked up then, curious.
Annie thought for a moment. Her forehead wrinkled slightly, as if she was searching for something valuable enough to offer a rich man.
Then she said, “My mama smiling again.”
The pawn shop went quiet.
“She hasn’t smiled the same since she sold it,” Annie continued. “She thought I was asleep last night, but I heard her crying. She said the bracelet was the last proof her life used to be beautiful.”
Edward’s face changed.
Annie swallowed. “But we needed rent money.”
Frank rubbed the back of his neck.
Edward turned toward the display case again. The bracelet looked ordinary from where he stood. Pretty, yes. But simple. Not the kind of piece collectors usually fought over. Not the kind of jewelry that should make a woman cry in the dark.
“You walked here alone?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s only five blocks.”
“You shouldn’t be walking around by yourself.”
Annie gave a small shrug. “Sometimes kids have to fix things when grown-ups can’t.”
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Frank cleared his throat.
“Actually,” he said, reaching under the counter, “there’s another problem.”
Edward looked up.
Frank unlocked the
