Page 42 of Meet Me at Christmas
“All right then. Why don’t we go to the Christmas tree farm? You can play a new game or two and call it a night.”
“That’s not a bad idea. And it’s on the way home, so it wouldn’t take too much time. Would you mind going with me?”
She definitely didn’t mind helping with his therapy, and she loved the idea of spending more time in Leiper’s Fork. She’d been all over the world and seen so many things, yet there was a nostalgia about that little spot called Christmas that felt as if it were a part of her.
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
He followed the directions on his phone to the jewelry store and turned at the next light. His attitude today reminded her of the old Henry, and she had to admit she was curious to find out if he’d show any other signs before they parted for the day. But with every step forward, she knew she was one step closer to having to face her demons. He was starting to let her in, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt him a second time. Not after everything he’d been through already.
After a few more turns, they pulled into the parking lot of a small jeweler.
“Moment of truth,” she said, touching the diamond that hung around her neck. “I hate to burst Mama’s bubble. She’s convinced it could be the real thing, but I’m nearly sure this will prove that it’s not.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Henry opened the door for her, and they walked inside.
Stella unclasped the chain and approached a clear case full of shiny diamonds. She laid the necklace on the glass top just as the jeweler approached them.
“May I help you?” he asked, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’d like to get this appraised,” Stella said.
With a polite nod, he pulled a piece of black velvet from the cabinet and laid it on the counter. Then he placed the necklace on top of it, the center diamond and its surrounding smaller stones shining under the lights.
“It’s a lovely piece.”
“We’re trying to determine if the stones are real. And, if you can tell, how old it is.”
The man pulled out a loupe and placed it against his eye, then peered through it as he lifted the stone closer and turned it over. “The inscription on the back is difficult to read, even with magnification… I’ll need seven days or so to get a full workup on the stones.” He set down the tool and wrapped the necklace in the velvet pouch. “The cost of an appraisal is fifty dollars.”
“All right, that’s fine.”
The jeweler handed Stella a small clipboard with a form for her contact information. She filled it in then passed it back, along with her credit card. Henry’s gaze remained on the diamond as if he were lost in thought.
After completing the transaction, the jeweler handed Stella her card and receipt. “Great. I’ll give you a call when it’s done.”
She slid the ticket into her pocket. As she left, she couldn’t help but take one final look at the jeweler as he took the necklace to the back of the store. Then, switching gears, she turned to Henry. “Homework time.”
He gave her a halfhearted grin, his mind clearly elsewhere. He held the door open for her and they climbed into his truck.
“I wish I could remember you beyond our childhood,” he said, putting the truck in gear and backing out of the parking spot.
Unsure how to respond, Stella wondered if knowing their story would matter to the man he was now. Memory or not, he’d changed over the years, just as she had. In a way, they’d been given a clean slate, even if it was against his will.
“You know, I could spout off a list of experiences we had together to help you remember—some wonderful and others not so great. But I guess none of that will help you right now because, at the end of the day, your feelings and new experiences are more important, since you can draw on them to move forward.”
He didn’t reply, but he seemed to be listening. Then he shrugged. “It would just be nice, that’s all.”
When they arrived in Leiper’s Fork, Henry drove to Christmas and parked. They got out and made their way past the red trailer decked out in festive holiday accents, heading toward the booths. Stella followed his lead.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She cinched her coat up around her neck to ward off the cold. “A little.”
“What’s your fancy? My treat. Cotton candy or corn dogs?”
His question took her back to better days, giving her a punch of wistfulness. “Corn dogs.”
