Randy White - Ten thousand isles

The woman stood and touched her finger to my lips, silencing me. She had a nice smile on her face and gorgeous brown eyes. She was shaking her head as if perplexed but pleased, as she said, "Ford, you've changed. There's something very different about you."

"I don't know what that would be, Kath."

"For one thing, look at you. You're wearing a Hawaiian shirt with a hula dancer on the back. Never in a thousand years would I expect to find you wearing something like that. That's just not you."

"It's Cotillion night, big party. Plus, we're going to 'Tween Waters, sit around the pool bar and talk to the guides. I borrowed it from Tomlinson."

The woman stepped toward me and touched her hand to my chest. "And this. You don't wear jewelry. Marion Ford wearing gold around his neck? You told me you despised jewelry."

On a woven rope cord, covered by my shirt, I wore a golden locket in the shape of a smiling full moon. I touched my hand to the pendant now, feeling its warmth; a thing to be worn occasionally as a reminder of someone.

I said, "This? It was a gift from an old friend."