The moon was a huge white sphere in the sky. She could see it from her tiny airplane window as they touched down at LaGuardia. From there they would head straight to the hotel in Manhattan. She was exhausted. The red eye from Seattle and the task she had set for herself had drained her mentally and physically. Beside her, Frankie, with her earbuds in and her feet tapping was the picture of ease and youth.  Lyllian sighed heavily and dug her fingers into her temples and forehead, trying to massage away the dull ache.

The past two days had been a whirlwind of indecision and impetuousness. She had wanted to book a flight as soon as her mind had been made up. Michael slowed her down a bit. Where would she even start? Why Manhattan of course – that’s where her Great-Grandparents had lived.

She had flown into the closet grabbing a black suitcase from the shelf and begun flinging clothes into it. Michael had encircled her waist and asked her to wait. To calm down and think it through.

She had stopped and dropped heavily on their bed. He was right of course. She needed to think. Plan. That is what she did. She was not a risk taker but very meticulous. She read reviews and forums, made lists. She did not run through airports dramatically.

Michael sat down next to her and took her hand. “Ok. So New York. Where? Manhattan I assume.” She nodded. “And where though? Her old apartment? That hotel your mom mentioned? Wonder where she worked?” he mused aloud.

Lyllian sat up and grabbed a pen and a sheet of the delicate rose colored stationary she kept on her bedside table – for story inspiration. She wrote the home on Delridge. She wrote the Barbizon Hotel and also wrote “Sig Klein’s” – her mother has told her that too, she’d just forgotten. There was a huge chance no one at any of the places would know a thing but it was a start.

She put the paper back on her table and she and Michael were silent awhile. There was a light knock on their door – it would be Frankie. Viv would just barge in.

Her hair was tousled and she wore her baggy pj bottoms and a tentative smile. Lyllian patted the seat beside her and Frankie sat down. “What’s up poo?” she asked stroking her long caramel-colored hair.

“I heard what you guys were talking about with Grandma Anne. And I want to go with you to New York.”

Lyllian looked startled then worried. “Frankie.  Has anything happened?”

Frankie lowered her eyes and put out her hand – in it was the locket.