The Lancaster Firestone

~Grandma Sylvie~

I have lived long enough to know when the universe is trying to tell me something.

It does not shout. It does not announce itself. It simply places something in front of you, a face, a word, or a small hand pointing at a portrait and waits to see if you are paying attention.

I was paying attention.

The boy was still looking at the painting. His finger raised, pointing at the ring