Ana Lee was a petite young woman in her sixties. She wore a simple black tunic over fitted pants, her long elegant fingers marked with rain scars from years of working with metal and stone. The hands of a true craftswoman.
"Adrian," she said, her voice carrying a faint Milan accent.
"Ana." Adrian leaned in to kiss her cheek, a gesture of genuine affection that surprised me. "This is Selena. My wife."
The word wife still sent a jolt through me, but Ana only smiled, her sharp eyes softening as they turned to me. "The one who's just as obsessed with jewelry. Celia told me about you. With so much excitement that I couldn't wait to meet you." There was a twinkle in her eyes.
"Celia?" I blinked. "You know Celia?"
"I'm practically family." Ana replied stepping back as she gestured for us to
