Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Why is it you men always do things in the most difficult fashion?”
“Pardon me?”
Holly ate another bite. “Instead of asking her best friend for advice, you spend a day running around Halifax without a clue as to what you are looking for.”
“And if I’d asked you first?”
“I would have told you the exact ring Amy would love. Shown it to you right here.”
“What?”
She grinned. “Let me have the rest of the pie, and I’ll show you too.”
I snagged one last bite and pushed the plate her way. “Eat fast, Holly.”
As she finished the pie, I paid the bill, and together we walked down the street and around the corner to the small antique shop in town. The windows were filled with pieces of bric-a-brac, china, oddities from eras long ago. I had been inside a couple of times—even purchased a great old leather chair for my office here. I was certain the chair Holly had bought for Amy had come from here as well. It was a nice shop, but why we were here, I wasn’t sure.
Inside, the owner, Mr. Wilson, came out from around the counter, beaming. “Holly, my dear, how are you?”
“Good,” she replied, kissing his cheek.
He shook my hand. “Simon Fletcher,” he said after a brief pause. “The burgundy leather club chair.”
I grinned. “That’s right.”
“And the chair and a half. That was for you as well.”
“It was,” I agreed. “Both are well used.”
“Good to hear.”
“Is Helen here?” Holly asked.
“Here I am, dear,” the woman herself called out, bustling from the back. She was short, stout, and her white hair was swept up in a bun. Her dark eyes were like raisins in her face, and she had dimples on either side of her smiling mouth. I hadn’t met her before, and Holly introduced us. Helen shook my hand firmly.
“Aren’t you a handsome one. Replacing Evan, are we?” she teased.
Holly laughed and laid her hand on my arm. “He belongs to Amy.”
Helen clapped her hands. “How wonderful.” Then her dark eyes widened. “Don’t tell me. Really? Amy’s ring?”
Holly nodded, looking excited. “Yes.”
“I knew it!” She turned and hurried away.
I looked at Holly. “Amy’s ring?” I repeated.
“Helen purchased a ring at an auction about two years ago. Amy and I were browsing one day, and Helen showed it to us. Amy fell in love with it. She thought it was the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. She tried it on, and it fit her perfectly.”
“I didn’t know they had jewelry here. Aside from costume.”
“At the back under lock and key. Helen only shows her best pieces to serious buyers. But she knows us and wanted to show it off. She bought it because of how lovely it was and the quality of the workmanship and stones. But given the price point, she’s never sold it. Amy always jokes with her and asks how her ring is. Helen always replies she is keeping it safe for her.”
Helen appeared, calling us to the back of the store. There was a display case of some nice pieces I hadn’t noticed until now. But it was the little leather pouch in Helen’s hand that had my interest. She turned on the light beside her and indicated my hand. I held it out, and she dropped a small but surprisingly heavy ring into my palm. I felt a flutter of anticipation as I held it up and looked at it under the light.
It was white gold, with a square-shaped setting, a decent-sized central diamond, surrounded by beautiful blue sapphires. The corners of the square each held another diamond, and smaller ones were woven into the filagree on the band and around the sapphires. They reminded me of the color of Amy’s eyes when they were darkened with passion. Rich and intense. The different cuts of diamonds and sapphires used made it exceptional. The ring was beautiful and unique. Like Amy. A one of a kind.
“I had it looked over and the claws fixed. It was cleaned professionally and is in perfect shape. The quality is extraordinary. Circa 1920s.”
I looked up. “And she loves it?”
“Very much.” Helen slid a piece of paper my way. “Here is the appraisal. I had it redone a few months ago. I was going to put it online to sell in an auction. But I kept putting it off. I think I know why now.”
I read the appraisal. The center diamond was a carat. Small by some standards, but with Amy’s petite hands and delicate fingers, it would be perfect. The shape and style of the ring suited her. Everything in the appraisal showed the quality. The high color and clarity of the stones used to create it. The beautiful workmanship. I could see it on Amy’s finger. I already knew the reaction it would get when I offered it to her.