Mother's Pendant

Amber Zazuetta, ace meerkat reporter, sat at her desk in the newsroom. Her claws went to the jar on her desk and fished out a gummy worm which she devoured mechanically as her pen tapped against her temple. 

Things had been far too quiet lately: she’d even had to resort to a few puff pieces just to justify her existence. She scanned through her many emails when her ears perked at the creak of wheels on linoleum. Amber looked up to see Dusty, the rabbit from the mailroom. 

“Delivery for you Miss Zazuetta,” the rabbit grinned, handing over an envelope. 

Amber twitched her ears. Getting an actual letter was quite refreshing over the many impersonal emails she received. It was addressed to her in a bold sweeping hand. Sliding her claw beneath the envelope fold Amber opened it and extracted a neatly typed letter. 

Hello Mz. ‘Zazuetta,’ 

You do not know me. But I know of you. I am writing to you because I have kept this to myself for so long. You're not actually a Zazuetta: you were adopted. I have the facts, and the proof. If you would like to learn the true nature of your heritage please meet me at the Shortstop Cafe on the 8th at noon. 

Kind regards,

Keith

Amber blinked, her ears flattening against her head before she spoke to the unseen letter writer.

“Let me guess,” she murmured. “You’re going to need me to pay a fee for you to obtain some documentation to prove my birth. I’m insulted that you thought such an obvious but elaborate scam would work on me!” Suddenly, she wasn’t murmuring anymore. “I eat scammers like you for lunch!” She yelled, causing her coworkers to look up from their own desks momentarily, shooting her puzzled looks. Amber growled, angrily scarfing down another gummy worm. 

Amber tilted her head, perhaps pursuing this scammer would be the break she was looking for on her next story? With a dry chuckle Amber picked up her landline and dialed someone she knew would get a kick out of this bizarre con:

Her mother. 

Her mom answered after the third ring, Amber could already picture the older meerkat with her graying muzzle, and slight pudge in her belly. 

“Amber! So good to hear from you honey. I thought you’d be busy exposing another crooked politician or something.” 

Amber shook her head even though her mother couldn’t see it. 

“Nothing like that. Just got a con artist trying to pull one over on me.”

Her mother laughed. “Well that’s not very smart.” 

Amber grinned a toothy grin. “Yeah. Get this, he tried to tell me I was adopted!” 

Silence on the other end of the line. 

“Mom?” Amber asked. 

“Y-yes sweetie?” she replied, her voice quavering. 

Amber’s ears swiveled up. “What’s wrong mom?” 

“Oh… nothing… I love you very much. I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished.” There was the unmistakable sound of a sniffle, and her voice had taken on the tone of one crying. 

Amber gasped. “It’s… true? I’m not a Zazuetta?” 

“Don’t you dare say that!” her mom said, raising her voice slightly. “You are every bit a Zazuetta as I am, Okay? I raised you, you just weren’t... born one.”

“Mom!” Amber squeaked. “What are you saying? You told me all those stories about carrying me.” 

“I’m sorry sweetie, I always wanted to be a mother but I just was never able to have children of my own - It’s why you didn’t have a father growing up. I suppose I wanted to live that fantasy.” 

Amber was speechless, only able to make squawking noises. 

“I’m sorry, my dearest dear,” her mother continued. “I-I should have told you sooner, I just didn’t want to hurt you… I… Can you ever forgive me?” 

Amber put a paw to her own face and it came away wet. Wait. She was crying? “I forgive you, ma, I’m just... I’m in shock.” 

Another pause. “Amber, please call me when you’re ready to talk, ok?”

Amber gulped. “Okay, ma.”

“Promise?”

“...Yeah, ma. I love you.” Eventually, Amber slowly hung up after a million “I love you too’s”.

The newsroom was completely silent as Amber noticed her audience. 

“What are you looking at?” Amber snapped as she wiped her furry face and ran out of the newsroom for the ladies room. Amber gripped the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back, eyes puffy, fur slightly damp, and expression stormy.

Adopted?

Her mother - no, her real mother - had lied to her. Not about loving her, but about who she really was. She wanted to scream, cry, or maybe even laugh hysterically. Instead, she splashed cold water on her face, patting herself dry with rough paper towels.

Her eyes fell to her paws, which were trembling slightly - Claws too sharp for trembling. Steadying herself. Slowly her thoughts turned back to the entire reason for this ‘revelation’: If this ‘Keith’ wanted to scam her, he was about to regret it. When Amber made her way back to the newsroom every beast suddenly looked far too focused on their tasks. 

Amber marched straight past them and to her editor’s office. The weasel was shuffling notes as Amber burst in. 

“Amber! Hey, uh. If you need to take some time off,” he began. “I mean I haven’t heard the rumors.” 

“Stow it chief, this is just a conartist and I’m going to expose the truth of the matter.” 

The weasel tilted his head. “Classic Amber. Alright, if you think there’s a story worth pursuing go for it. I know enough by now not to try and stop you. But seriously you just found out you were adopted, take some time to process things if you need to.”

“This is me processing things,” Amber replied as she leaned against the doorframe.    

Amber arrived at the café ten minutes early, scanning the room. It was one of those cozy places filled with mismatched furniture and the scent of roasted beans. Her nose twitched at the smell of cinnamon buns.

She spotted him easily. A scruffy, older meerkat in a trench coat and glasses, seated near the window with a steaming cup of coffee. She marched over, tail flicking in agitation.

“Keith?”

He looked up, startled, before nodding. “Amber Zazuetta?”

“Maybe,” She said, folded her arms. “You’ve got five minutes to explain yourself.”

Keith gestured to the seat across from him. “Please. Sit.”

Amber hesitated before sliding into the chair, eyes sharp and ready. Keith fumbled in his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper, placing it on the table between them.

“This is a copy of the adoption certificate,” he said softly. “Your birth name was Amber Whitlock.”

Amber’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to remain composed. “How did you get this?”

Keith’s expression turned solemn. “Because I’m your uncle. Your mother, that is to say, your birth mother; was my sister.”

Amber’s claws dug into the fabric of her purse. “If this is some kind of joke…”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, pulling out a second document. “Look.”

Amber hesitated, then leaned forward. It was a birth certificate. Her birth certificate, listing Keith’s sister, Linda Whitlock, as her mother.

“I didn’t know what happened to you until years later,” Keith said, his voice breaking slightly. “Linda was... troubled. She struggled to raise you and eventually gave you up for adoption. She didn’t want to, but she thought it was for the best.”

Amber swallowed. “Why now? Why tell me this now?”

Keith hesitated. “Because Linda passed away last month.”

“She’s dead?” Amber whispered. “I never even got to… ask her anything.”

Keith nodded. “I’m sorry Amber. She left something for you, though.”

He reached into his coat and placed a small, velvet box on the table. Amber eyed it suspiciously before opening it. Inside was a silver pendant— oval-shaped, smooth, and engraved with intricate swirls. Her nose twitched involuntarily as a faint, familiar scent rose from the box.

Amber blinked. Nose prints.

She leaned closer and saw the unmistakable smudge of a nose print inside the lid of the box. Her heart thudded as she instinctively compared it to the smudge on the glass tabletop where her own nose had brushed moments ago. Identical.

“This was hers,” Keith said quietly. “She kept it as a reminder of you. And now it’s yours.”

Amber’s paws shook as she closed the box. Her nose print didn’t lie. This was real. This was her heritage. 

Keith continued. “I had no idea what happened to you after you were adopted, I guess I thought it was for the best that I not try and find you. I figured if you wanted to know the truth you’d come forward. But then Linda passed, and I saw a story about you busting a phony psychic. I couldn’t believe it, the timing was uncanny.” 

“I need time,” she said, standing abruptly. “To process this.”

Keith nodded. “Of course. But, when you’re ready we need to talk more. Your birth mother… Well we can talk more in private.”

Keith gave her his contact details, and Amber nodded stiffly and left the café, clutching the small box in her paws.

That night, Amber paced restlessly in her apartment, tail swishing in agitation. Her ears flattened as she looked over the birth certificate again and again. The facts were undeniable, and yet she could scarcely believe it. How could this be? Had she spent her life in search of the truth only to find this?

Amber sighed and sat down heavily on her bed, rubbing her temples. There was no use denying it, and yet… She couldn't help but feel a deep sense of unease. Who was this Keith meerkat, and why should she trust him? What other secrets was he keeping? And why would he come forward with this now? Amber frowned and got to her feet.

She dialed the number Keith had given her. He answered and Amber immediately began to question him.

“Why did you bring this to my attention now? Can't be just because she passed.”

Keith sighed, “You're right. It's because... well, I think foul play was involved.”

Amber gasped, her ears perked forward, and she took a step back, tail stiff.

“Foul play?” Amber questioned. “First I find out I’m adopted. Then I find out she's dead. Now you’re bringing murder into all of this? All in less than a week?” 

She was on the verge of tears again. Any more revelations and she’d go insane. She’d seen all kinds of life-altering things happen in the span of hours if not minutes. What kept her from collapsing was her career of seeing difficult situations happen to other creatures.

...It was just her turn, now. Perhaps it was a cosmic prank of some kind: some vengeful god of mischief had rolled the die and it had come up ‘Amber’.

Amber collected her thoughts as Keith continued.

“I told you she was troubled,” he said. “And I think someone made her death look like an accident.” 

Amber rubbed her temples and sighed. “That’s... What led you to that conclusion?” 

Keith's tone remained somber. 

"The last few months of her life my sister became paranoid. I tried to get her help but she didn't believe anything I told her, thought I was working against her." 

“Sometimes the paranoid are right,” Amber said without a touch of humor.

"It was a heart attack,” Keith said, leaning in. “But the autopsy report... something didn't add up."

Amber's ears shot up. "What, exactly?" 

"My sister never had a heart condition. And there were these needle marks in her arm. Like someone was giving her injections of something." 

Amber was silent as her mind reeled with this new information. “Any thoughts on motive?” 

“That’s why I need you.” Keith replied. “I can’t make sense of why someone would want to kill her.” 

Amber shifted her weight from one leg to the other, she hated the fact that her curiosity was piqued. Amber was no longer a cub: She didn’t need to go on a grand quest for the truth. But she wanted to... 

...It was as simple as that.

Keith cleared his throat, breaking Amber from her reverie.

"Look. I'll give you the whole day, but if you need any other proof I have some of it. Pictures. She also kept some things from her life that might prove to you she had you. If you want it."

Amber rubbed her muzzle. Her mind was already racing, making mental notes and connections. It wasn’t like she had any better leads for the time being.

“Alright, I’m in.” Amber grunted. “But I’m not calling her my mom, or you uncle.” 

“Fair enough,” Keith replied.