It was ruffled, of course, for that was the style back then, but this one was made of gossamer-thin lace. It was as if the most fashion-conscious, elegant craft spiders, if such creatures existed, had woven that collar. Like a web, the collar spanned from her neck to her shoulders. In the fifth grade her class had done a unit on spiders. There was one spider that the teacher called the bling spider because of its jeweled appearance. Should the bling spider be her new name for Lisa of the Trio of Doom? She rarely appeared in public without a spritz of glitz, glitter in her hair, or a sequin on her eyebrow. And the bling spider was known not simply for its dazzling appearance but also for its intricate web weaving. Rose enlarged the view of the spectacularly ruffled lace collar. “This would definitely qualify for a bling spider creation,” she whispered.

The Google entry mentioned all sorts of things about the symbolism in the painting—the rainbow for hope, the crescent-shaped jewel in her crown for the goddess of the moon from ancient times, the pearls for purity. An elaborate snake on one sleeve was said to symbolize wisdom. She couldn’t get the collar out of her mind. She downloaded it and posted it on her blog under the topic “Fashions That Inspire.”

Talk about majestic—this is total awesomeness!!!

Rose kept googling into the night. She was searching for portraits of men to see if any resembled the man in the locket. She had taken a photo of the picture in the locket, emailed it to herself, downloaded it to her computer, then enlarged it. He doesn’t look like me—no, not at all. And she began listing all the differences in her head.

Coloring much ruddier. Ears awfully big. Eyes? Well, similar color, but they slope down a bit—they look kind of sad, she thought. Suddenly she had an idea. She would text her mom’s friend Caroline back in Philadelphia and ask if she and her mom had ever gone to a costume party.

She looked at the clock. It was just one minute after midnight, but Caroline stayed up late.

She began to text:

Hey, Caroline, I know this is a weird question but did you ever go to a costume party with Mom? Or know if she went to one on her own?

Less than a minute later there was the ping of a text coming in.

You’re up late, girl! No, as far as I know, your mom never went to a costume party. Not her kind of thing. Did the boxes come through yet?

Rose attached the picture of the man, replying:

No boxes!!! Lame. You’re sure about the costume party? Take a look at this picture. Is this anyone you know?

Another ding.