Now let’s see what she does about it.We’re driving home from Art’s law office.“You’re not talking.” I glanced over at her. Tears.“Baby?�...� I blurted.“Oh, Bob ... she took CARE of me. I had no idea...”“And you’re crying?”“I miss ‘er, Bob. She was my rock. My anchor. She left, my world caved in. Mom ... what a disaster. Mom hadn’t a clue about Grandma’s finances, and now ... Grandma knew better...”Sniff. “You called me ‘baby’.”“I know. Reflex. Protective instinct. Whatever. I sort of felt the need. It’s wrapped around a piece of old string. You decide to pick it up and examine it. You hold it in its hand and feel its weight and texture, it’s quite light and there seems to be something inscribed on its surface but the characters are too ancient for you to read. You hold it by the string and start swinging it like a pendulum. As it swings in front of your eyes you feel a strange aura about it. It’s definitely something really special, it’s… entrancing. You could feel there was definitely. More

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