The Stone

WE KNEW that our great-grandfather had owned some land in the country because it was occasionally mentioned in passing, largely because almost the only thing he bequeathed to his son was an iridescent stone, with feminine curves and a kind of metallic vein that looked more than anything like rust. It was then passed to my mother as a legacy from her father, and, when she died, it remained with me on my desk as a paperweight. I’m on pretty safe ground, I think, when I say that there are countless such stones