Page 65 of One Golden Ring
Honestly, she looks more excited than when she sold me that monstrosity.
“I’m a fan of pearls myself,” she says, indicating her pearl eyeglass chain. “And I think I have just the thing. Want to follow me?”
This time we stop closer to the front but away from the street windows, which tells me this won’t be an expensive trip.
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” Marion asks J.B.
“Uh, no,” J.B. replies.
Marion nods to herself mysteriously, pulls a key out of her pocket, and bends to open the glass case.
As she unlocks it, J.B. and I gaze at the assortment of pearl jewelry inside. There are strands, double strands, bracelets, and rings. Some are interspersed with diamonds and gold.
But what Marion pulls out is a simple piece on a slender silver chain with three tiny perfect pearls.
“It’s not flashy,” she says. “But it’s delicate, beautiful, and it could symbolize your new family. What do you think?”
J.B. smiles, her eyes trained on the three little pearls as Marion holds out the necklace to her.
“It’s perfect,” she breathes after a moment as she takes it.
It really does seem like exactly the right choice. Suddenly I’ve got a lump in my throat. This is a gift for the real Darcy, and none of this is supposed to be real.
Marion looks to me and I nod.
“Would you like to carry it to the counter for me?” she asks J.B. kindly.
“Yes, okay,” J.B. says, eyes still on the dainty pearls that are cupped so gently in her hand. She clearly doesn’t want to let it go.
Marion smiles at me over her head.
“They’re close?” she asks.
I nod.
“That’s so rare and special,” she says. “I know you’ll treasure your new family.”
I pay without saying anything else and by the time we’re heading out with the pink box tucked into J.B.’s coat pocket, another group is coming in, keeping Marion too busy to mention the ring I bought.
Back out on the sidewalk soft sunlight is penetrating the clouds and everyone in sight looks so happy. The reds and greens of the holiday decorations are everywhere and I feel a touch of that same excitement I used to haveas a kid when Christmas was near and I was in Angel Mountain with Grandpa Michael.
I try not to think about the fact that he won’t be here with us next Christmas.
Will we ever come back here once he’s gone?
My chest aches until J.B. spots Darcy and she takes off to greet her.
“Derek Lockwood?” a deep voice says from behind me before I can move to join them.
I turn to see my old friend Roan Connelly standing outside the diner, a paper cup of coffee in his hand.
Roan has grown since we were teenagers. He’s as tall as I am—over six feet. He’s wearing a lined plaid flannel and grinning at me with the same twinkling blue eyes I remember always meant he was about to propose some ridiculous prank.
“Roan,” I say, clasping his outstretched hand. “Good to see you.”
“You too, man,” he says. “My dad mentioned you bought a tree last night. I was hoping to catch you. How long are you here for?”
“Just the week,” I tell him.
