Page 61 of Savannah Royals
“Surprise,” he says with a small wave. “Happy birthday, Kat.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Picking out your birthday gift. Well, really, you’re about to pick it.”
I immediately shake my head. “You’re not buying me diamonds, Matthew. It’s excessive.”
“Don’t worry, Kat. I’m giving him a friendly discount,” Ray chimes in, winking at me. “Since it’s for a special cause.”
I look back and forth between the two men, utterly mystified.
Matthew reaches over the counter to grab my hand, tugging me close. “You can have anything you want, but Ray pulled some options to get you started.”
Trancelike, I examine the velveteen board. There are five pairs of diamond earrings. As usual, Ray’s taste is flawless, but I shake my head again.
Matthew looks me in the eyes. “Kat, I thought for a really long time about what to give you for your birthday. I know it seems like a lot, but the thing you talk about loving the most is your work here, your jewelry. So pick something and don’t feel guilty. I chose earrings because, heaven knows, you seem to already have enough rings.” He reaches for my hand, gently rubbing his thumb over my bedazzled fingers. “But you can have whatever you want.”
“Earrings are good,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” He gives me a small smile, and as I offer one back, his grin grows and grows. Soon, I have the full blast of Matthew DaMolin sunshine hitting me in the face. It warms me from head to toe.
“Which pair do you like?” He slides the black velvet tray toward me.
I pick up the French-cut studs Ray mentioned. They’re classic and beautiful and…familiar? I blink twice, recognizing them as the very same earrings I “borrowed” for the Jekyll Island Hallows’ Eve party. My eyes dart, there and gone, to Ray. The corner of his mouth is upturned in a knowing smirk.
“Are those the ones?” Matthew prods.
When I say yes, Ray preens.
“I knew it,” he crows. “I know ya like I know the back of my hand, kid.”
I turn to Matthew. “I don’t even know what to say. Thank you—they’re the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. And they’ll be the fanciest thing I’ve ever owned.” Aside from a few things I’ve stolen.
“You’re welcome. Happy one-day-early birthday, Kat.”
“Kat?” Ray is writing down the sale in his little black book. “You’re done for the day. Why don’t you pack up and enjoy the evening with your young man?”
“Are you sure? I’m not quite done with the bases for those earrings—”
“I’m sure.” He waves me off. “Go out and celebrate.”
Gratified, I walk back through the swinging door and start cleaning my tools. Cleopatra’s cobra ring winks at me, emeralds twinkling to mirror my raised spirits. I’m almost done when Ray pops into the workroom.
“That fella out there”—he jerks his head conspiratorially—“he’s one of the good ones, Katarina. Where in tarnation did you find him? He’s a long step up from the gutters of the bayou, and he talks about you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky.”
“You like him, huh? I’m not surprised.” I smile. “Everyone does.”
“Everyone except Paul, I bet.” His smile is knowing.
I nod slowly, chewing on my cheek.
“I’m going to tell you something, Katarina, and I’m only going to say it once because it’s not my place. You know I love both you and Paul, very much. You’re like the kids I never had. But very, very rarely is our first love our final love. Or even our truest love. Maybe it will be for you, I don’t know. But when you choose a partner, you’re choosing an entire life and family. Take your time and don’t rush it. At the end of the day, I want you to make the choice that’s best for you. I want you to be able to say you chose your life, you didn’t settle for it.”
“Thank you, Ray,” I whisper.
Icelebratemybirthdaywith the Royals over the weekend. We have an ongoing birthday tradition amongst the four of us—stolen gifts only. It started when we were broke and couldn’t afford much, and it’sevolved into who can present the most outrageous pilfered gift. The current trump item was stolen by Paul for Tony’s last birthday. He swiped a street sign from downtown Savannah that matches the name of Tony’s favorite jazz club, Abercorn Street. The sign now hangs in a place of honor above Tony’s bed.
One by one, the boys emerge from their rooms, each concealing his pillage behind his back. Abe starts us off with a doozy. He hands me a tiny, crystal wolf. “It’s from—”
