It was the ring that caught his eye first. The blood-red ruby and ice-white diamond formed two halves of an interlocking heart on a platinum band.

The minute he held it in his hand, he knew he wanted it for Lena. Maybe it was foolish to buy an engagement ring at this point in their relationship. And it was reckless to snatch at something before he'd looked at other options.

But this was the one he wanted to put on her finger. And he decided if a man could buy a house on a whim, he could sure as hell buy a ring.

"I'll take it.”

"It's beautiful," said the shopkeeper.

"She's a lucky woman.”

"I'm working on convincing her of that.”

"I have some lovely earrings that would complement this. Is ruby her birthstone?" the clerk asked as she showed him a pair of earrings with a dangle of ruby hearts and diamonds.

"I don't know." But he'd gotten her birthday from Odette to make sure he didn't miss it. "July?”

"Then it is. Lucky guess.”

"No kidding." It gave him a little tingle as he looked back at the ring. Some things were meant, he told himself. He lifted one of the earrings. He could already see them on her-just as he imagined the clerk could see Impulse Buyer stamped on his forehead.

He leaned on the counter and began to pit Yankee bargaining skills against southern horse-trading.

He figured they'd come to fair terms when her smile was still in place but much less brilliant.

"Will that be all for you today?”

"Yeah, I've got to get going. I'm already-was He broke off when he glanced at his watch and saw it had stopped at twelve again.

"You know, I could use a watch-a pocket watch. Mine's been acting up, and I'm doing a lot of carpentry right now. Probably smashed this one a few times on the job.”

"I've got some wonderful old pocket watches and chains. They're so much more imaginative than the new ones.”

She led him over to another display cabinet, pulled out a drawer and set it on the counter.

"Watches like this tell more than time," she began. "They tell a story. This one-was "No." The edges of his vision dimmed like smoke. The chatter of voices from other customers faded into a hum. Part of him remained aware enough to know he was sliding away from himself. Even as he tried to stop it, to pull back, he watched his own hand reach out, pick up a gold watch and its loop of chain.

The voice of the shopkeeper hovered around the rim of his consciousness. It was another voice that stabbed through, clear as a bell. Female, young, excited.

For my husband, for his birthday. He broke his. I want to give him something special. This one is so handsome. Can you engrave it?

And he already knew what he would find, exactly what he would find, before he turned the watch over to read the back.

To Lucian from his Abby.

To mark our time together.

April 4, 1899

"Mr. Fitzgerald? Mr. Fitzgerald, are you all right? Would you like some water? You're awfully pale.”

"What?”

"Can I get you some water? Would you like to sit down?”

"No." He closed his hand tightly over the watch, but the sensation was already fading. "No, thanks. I'm okay. I'll take this, too.”

More than a little shaken, he headed to Remy's office. He thought some time in the sensible business district, in the rational atmosphere of law, might help settle him down.

More, he wanted a few minutes with a friend who might think he was crazy, but would love him anyway.

"If you'd told me you were coming by," Remy began as he closed his office door, "I'd've scooted some stuff around so we could maybe have lunch.”

"I didn't expect to head over this way today.”

"Been shopping again." Remy nodded at the bag Declan carried. "Boy, aren't you having anything sent down from Boston?”

"As a matter of fact, I've got some stuff coming down next week. Books mostly," Declan said as he wandered the office. His gaze skimmed over the law books, the fat files, the memos. All of it, the debris of the lawyer, seemed very distant to him now.

"A few pieces I had in my study up there that should work in the library.”

He picked up a brass paperweight, set it down. Slipped a hand into his pocket, jiggled change.

"You going to tell me what's on your mind, or just pace until you dig a trench in my carpet?" With his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, Remy kicked back in his chair and began to swish a bright green Slinky from palm to palm. "You're wearing me out.”

"I've told you some of the things t've been happening.”

"Got a firsthand account of them myself when I dropped in on Saturday. I'd still feel better if you told me that piano music we heard was from some radio you forgot to turn off.”

"I guess I'll have to get a piano for the ladies' parlor, since that seems to be the spot. I like to play anyway, when I remember to sit down at one.”

Remy shifted the Slinky to vertical, let the colorful spiral drip into itself. "So, you came by to tell me you're in the market for a piano?”

"I bought a watch today.”

"And you want to show it off? Want me to call in my assistant, some of the law clerks?”

"It was Lucian Manet's watch.”

"No shit?" The Slinky, sloshed into a whole, was tossed aside. "How do you know? Where'd you get ahold of it?”

"Little shop in the Quarter." He drew out the box, set it on Remy's desk. "Take a look at it."

Obliging, Remy took off the lid. "Elegant, if you want something you're going to have to dig out whenever you want to know what time it is. Heavy," he added when he picked it up.

"You don't … feel anything from it?”

"Feel anything?”

"Look on the back, Remy.”

"Names and dates are right," Remy concluded. "Hell of a stroke of luck, you stumbling on this.”

"Luck? I don't think so. I go into a shop, buy Lena a ring, then-was "Whoa, whoa, whoa, just back up there a minute. A ring?”

"I told you I was going to marry her." Declan shrugged. "I found the ring. It doesn't hurt to have it ahead of schedule. But that's not the point.”

"Pretty damn big point, if you ask me. She know you're up to this?”

"I told her how I felt, what I wanted. I'm letting her stew on it awhile. Can we get back to the watch?”

"Et la! You always were mule-headed. Go ahead.”

"I walk into that shop, decide I need a watch because mine's acting up. I decide I need a pocket watch even though I've never used one, never thought about using one. Then, I see that one, and I know. I know it was his, I know she bought it for him for his birthday. I know what it says on the back before I read it. Exactly what it says. Because I heard it in my head.”

"I don't know what to think about that." Remy raked his fingers through his hair. "Isn't there something about how some people touch an object and get images from it? Its history or whatever?”

"It's called psychometry. I've been doing a lot of reading up on paranormal science in my spare time," Declan explained when Remy frowned at him. "But I've never had anything like that happen before. Lena's got a theory. That this is a reincarnation deal.”

Remy pursed his lips, set the watch back in its box. "I guess I'd be more inclined to put some stock in that rather than the psycho whatever.”

"If it is, then the house, now this watch, are triggering past-life memories. Pretty weird.”

"The whole thing's been weird since the get-go, cher.”

"Here's the kicker. If I accept that I was Lucian, then I know Lena was Abigail. What I don't know is if I'm supposed to bring her into the house, to make things right from before. Or if I'm supposed to keep her away from it, and resolve the cycle that way.”

In the Vieux Carre, where Lena prepared to leave her apartment for the bar and the afternoon shift, she opened the door and stepped into another cycle. An old one.

"Baby!" Lilibeth Simone threw open her arms.

Sluggish with shock, Lena was unable to move back before they wrapped around her like chains. Trapped, she was assaulted with impressions. Too much perfume that didn't quite cover the smell of stale smoke, the bony form honed down by years of hard living. Sticky layers of hairspray over curls dyed black as pitch.

And through it all seeped her own dark dread.

"I went downstairs first, and that handsome young man behind the bar said you were still up here. Why, I'm so glad to catch you!" The voice was a bright bubble that bounced and jerked in the air. "Let me just look at you! I swear, I swear you just get prettier every time I see you. Sweetie pie, I just have to sit down a minute and catch my breath. I'm just so excited to see you, I can hardly stand it.”

She talked too fast, Lena noted, walked too fast on the spiked backless heels she'd paired with hot-pink and skin-tight capris. Those were warnings that she'd taken a hit of her current drug of choice very recently.

"Look what you've done with this place!" Lilibeth dropped into a chair and dumped a floral suitcase beside her. She clapped her hands like a child so the plastic bracelets on her bony wrists banged together. "Why, I just love it. Suits you, baby. It sure does suit you.”

She'd been pretty once, Lena thought as she studied her mother. She'd seen pictures. But all that prettiness had been carved down, diamond-hard, to canny.

At forty-four, Lilibeth's face showed all the wear from too much liquor, too many pills and far too many men.

Deliberately, Lena left the door open and remained standing just inside it. The sound of traffic, the scent of the bakery across the street, kept her grounded. "What do you want?”