I Brought My Late Grandma’s Necklace to a Pawn Shop to Pay My Rent – Then the Antique Dealer Went White and Said He Had Waited 20 Years for Me

“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

“It was my grandmother’s,” I said, a bit annoyed by the delay. “Look, I just need enough for rent.”

“What was her name?”

I frowned. “Merinda. Merinda L. Why?”

The man’s mouth opened, then closed, before he stumbled back as if the counter had shocked him!

“Miss… you need to sit down,” he muttered, gripping the edge of the counter.

My stomach dropped.

“Where did you get this?”

“Is it fake?” I asked, worried.

He let out a shaky breath.

“No. It’s… It’s real.”

Before I could respond, he grabbed a cordless phone with trembling fingers and hit a speed-dial button.

“I have it,” he said quickly when someone answered. “The necklace. She’s here.”

A cold feeling crept up my spine.

“Who are you calling?” I asked, taking a step back.

He covered the receiver, his eyes wide.

“Miss… the master has been searching for you for 20 years!”

My pulse spiked.

“Who are you calling?”

Before I could demand what that meant, a lock clicked behind the showroom.

The back door swung open.

And when I saw who stepped through, I gasped.

“Desiree?!”

She looked older, of course. Time had softened the edges of her face and added silver to her hair. But she carried herself the same way I remembered: straight-backed, composed, elegant without trying.

She was my grandmother’s best friend!

She looked older.