Page 118 of Savannah Royals
“It’s not quite done,” I remind him.
“Pretty darn near, Kat.” He dims the light and looks closely at me. “How did you do this? This is incredible work—it’s near perfect. I can barely tell the difference, and I’ve been at this a long time. Plus, I know what I’m looking for.”
I exhale, relieved. “Just…you know, working hard.”
“I’ve always known you had an eye, kid, but this…this is next level.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“Now tell me what your plan is.”
“My…my plan?”
“Yeah. Are you really gonna fork over the real necklace to Paul? Or is something else at play?”
I reach for the back of the chair, seeking support. I don’t reply.
“You’re a smart girl, Kat,” he tells me, rising. “I’m very interested to see what you do here. Whatever Paul comes back with that weekend, I’ll look at it closely.”
“And what will you say if it’s not what you expect?”
“I’m not sure. Should I expect any surprises?”
I shake my head.
“Regardless, I hope you know I’ll still expect you for work that Monday. No longer as an apprentice. A partner, with real jobs from here on out. This is excellent,” he says, gesturing to the rubies, “but it’s a waste of your talent.”
“Make it Tuesday,” I bargain. “I think I’ve earned a day off.”
“Tuesday it is, but I want those ring sketches two days from now. Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”
“Ray?” I call out as he lumbers away.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be wanting a raise.” I smile. “From my usual cut.”
His eyes twinkle. “You got it, girl.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ThemonthofMarchroars in like a lion, all bluster and humid rainstorms. The azalea bushes throughout the city bloom in full force.
Unfortunately, I’m scarcely outside to appreciate them. I stop seeing Matthew regularly, rarely finishing my work at Ray’s before midnight. Mellie leaves the window open for me every evening, but she can hardly hide her concern in the morning. The shadows under my eyes become permanently etched.
We’re one week into the month when she stages an intervention.
“Kat, are you on drugs?” Mellie asks, genuine concern in her tone.
I laugh her off, insist I’m fine. Or I will be soon.
One more week,I promise both Mellie and myself. I throw her a gilded bone—I’ve secured an invitation for her to the Ides of March ball. As Captain Ethan DaMolin’s date, no less.
Mellie’s ear-piercing shriek of excitement could crack glass. I manage a smile as she twirls away, floating on clouds straight to my closet where she begins pulling out gowns. Wondering what on earth she’ll wear—from my collection, evidently—to the party of the year on Jekyll Island.
Five days out from the ball, I stop sleeping. Three days out is when I go off food. In the final twenty-four hours, my hands develop a tremor that won’t go away.
I’m wide-awake, lying in my Academy bed, when the hallowed morning of Saturday, March fifteenth dawns. I rise with the sun, pull on a dress, andout the window I go. Matthew is due to pick Mellie and me up at noon to travel to Jekyll Island, and I need to go to Ray’s this morning.
