The next morning, Jasmine Yale took a taxi to Siesta Garden Hotel.
Afraid the bracelet might be taken away, she arrived at the hotel lobby early.
Winter mornings tend to wake up late, with a layer of white fog lingering all around. The sun had just begun to outline itself in the east, shallow white frost hung on the dry grass and branches.
The atmosphere on the street was chill and fresh.
Jasmine wrapped herself tightly, donning a thick blue-gray plaid scarf and a cream-colored knit hat.
The lobby manager was a sweet-smiling UT girl, who led Jasmine over and handed her a box: "You're Miss Yale, right?"
Jasmine nodded.
"It's from Mr. Cheney, a guest of suite 8299 for you."
"Yes, it's him."
"Then, please keep it safe."
Jasmine took the box and opened it.
As she opened it, she paused. It wasn't Little Clementine's bracelet.
