The Jeweler

by Anderson, Beck

  “Like the ‘evil eye,’” Naomi said.

  Fender nodded solemnly. “The man stole it and took it to France. He fell ill, discovered he was dying, and began losing money, so he sold it to King Louis the Fourteenth. Marie Antoinette wore it often. And we all know what happened to her.”

  Fender paused, and Sam drew his finger across his own throat for emphasis. God love ya, Sam. I can always count on you. “And each owner afterward was cursed with the same bad luck. Those who wore the Hope Diamond paid for the privilege with their lives.” Fender tried to really make the last word hang in the air.

  Jimmy cleared his throat. “We all know this story, Fender.”

  “I don’t, and it’s making me nervous, sugar.” Naomi buried her head in Jimmy’s shoulder, rubbing her bouffant of hair into his shirt.

  Jimmy made her sit up again. “Naomi, this has nothing to do with us. What’s your point, Fender?”

  Fender realized he needed to close in for the kill before Jimmy got too impatient. “I don’t mean to worry either of you, but I have reason to believe the ring Naomi’s wearing on her right hand is also cursed!”

  Naomi gasped again and stared at her hand. Jimmy didn’t look as convinced. “Why do you say that, Fender? Do you like to upset sweet pretty things?”

  Fender ignored him for a moment. “Have you noticed anything strange lately, Naomi? You look a little pale. Have you been feeling well?” His question was met with a big fat tear that ran down Naomi’s cheek.

  Jimmy wasn’t going to stand for this. “Now you’ve made her cry. Why do you think it’s cursed, Fender? You better have a good reason.”

  “The ring was commissioned by Mrs. Harriman of Warm Springs Avenue. You know the family?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, she specially ordered the diamond from Amsterdam, had me custom fit the ring to her hand, and I did quite a few designs for the setting. She was very pleased with the way it looked, the last time she tried it on.”

  Jimmy shifted on the sofa. “And?”

  “Then she never came back to pick it up. I heard later that she’d fallen ill the day after our last fitting.”

  Naomi made a strange little whimper. She reached for her finger, about to take the ring off. Jimmy stopped her. “Fender, Mrs. Harriman is still alive. Did it ever occur to you that she just didn’t want to buy the ring? She stiffed you. You should be glad we bought it and took it off your hands.”

  That would’ve worked if I didn’t love Ginger. “Well…” He tried to sound timid. “There was actually another owner of the ring. After Harriman, and before you two bought it.”

  Naomi practically shrieked. “Who?”

  “He was a nice young man. Bought it to propose to his girlfriend.”

  Naomi sniffled. Jimmy leaned over the poofy arm of the sofa and grabbed the Kleenex. She snatched them from his hands and held the box on her knees. “What happened to him?”

  “Oh, Naomi, I’d really rather not say. Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.”

  “What happened to him? Tell me!”

  Fender ducked his head and said it quickly. “He was hit by a car and killed.”

  A loud wailing sound filled the living room and bounced off of the purple-skinned bears’ heads. Naomi was inconsolable. She flopped back on the couch, sinking into the squishy cushions. She pretended to be limp, though she managed to touch at her nose from time to time with a Kleenex.

  Jimmy lifted her right hand and pulled the ring from her finger. He looked like he might eat Fender for lunch. Fender needed to finish this off and placate Jimmy in a hurry.

  “Naomi! Don’t cry! It tears Jimmy apart to see you unhappy. And I have a solution.” Fender motioned to Sam. A step ahead, he rushed to Fender’s side. He opened his palm to show the new ring, already removed from his jeans pocket. “I have brought with me today a distinguished man, who has the solution.”

  Jimmy was dubious. For being so stupid that he’d marry Naomi, he’s not that stupid. “I saw this guy at your shop the last time we were there. He helped you sell this ring to us.” The ring, Ginger’s ring, was in Jimmy’s hand, circled by the fist he shook at Sam at the moment.

  Fender needed to do damage control. “Jimmy, can you and I have a private word?”

  Jimmy clenched and unclenched the fist, balancing the ring on his palm. “Fine.” He took a few steps into the front hall.

  Fender dropped his voice to a whisper. “Please, Jimmy. I need that ring back.”

  “Is this a mafia thing? Do you owe the mafia? Or a cartel? Are you running drugs, because I swear to God if you get Naomi involved in some cartel shit, I’ll snap your neck.”

  “No, Jimmy, none of that. It’s about a girl. I need to give it back to a girl. She was supposed to have it. The guy really did die. He wanted to give it to her.”

  “And you sold it.”

  “I screwed up and sold it. It was a mistake. Please.”

  Naomi still feigned emotional distress, but Fender could see her frosted head bob over the couch cushions, spying on them.

  Jimmy shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but wrap this up and get the hell out of my house.”

  “I am, I promise. Thank you, Jimmy.”

  The men walked back to Naomi. Sam fanned her with an old copy of Us Weekly.

  Fender continued. “Yes, he consults with me from time to time. He’s the one who alerted me to the curse, but it was too late—I, in my ignorance, had already sold it to you.”

  Jimmy snorted. “You are stupid, Fender. You damn well got that part right.”

  Sam jumped in.

  It’s a good thing, Fender thought, because I’m running out of story here.

  Sam puffed out his chest. “I can cleanse your aura.” He had employed a strange accent, sort of a cross between East Indian singsong and Texas drawl.

  Fender backed him up. “He’s an expert on the energy of crystals and gems. Very renowned cleanser.”

  Naomi showed some signs of life. She replied from the depth of the sofa cushions. Her voice was muffled. “Sugar, listen to them.”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “What do we do?”

  Sam kicked it into high Sam-bullshit mode. “Hand me the offending ring.” Jimmy obliged. Sam produced the replacement. “I believe the elders would like you to have this ring instead. That is the energy I get. But now I must bless the beautiful hand it will dwell upon.”

  Naomi took her cue and flung a hand from the depths of the couch. Sam held it by the pinky and the thumb and began to sing in a very painful falsetto:

  “Hand of beauteeeeee…Beautiful hand on your wrissssssssst…”

  “Thank you, wise one. That’ll do.” It pays to have an insane friend, Fender thought.

  Two minutes later, they were out the door with the ring. They remained very quiet until the house disappeared from the rearview mirror. Then Fender felt it was safe to speak.

  “We got it back.”

  Sam slapped the tops of his thighs. “I had no doubt. But I doubt if you’ll ever have Jimmy as a customer again.”

  Fender held the ring up with a hand as he drove with the other. “You don’t know how glad I am to have you back, you stupid thing.”

  Sam breathed out. “You’re going to give it to Ginger?”

  Fender hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “And that’ll be the end of it with her, huh?” Sam asked this gently.

  Fender’s heart dipped a little in his chest. “Yeah, I guess it will.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  MOLLY BANGED ON THE DOOR, and Ginger could tell she was a woman on a mission. She was seriously rapping her knuckles on the screen. Good, Ginger thought. She didn’t want to think about men, or rings, or much of anything.

  “What’s the plan?” She swung the door wide to let Molly in.

  “Busy, busy bees we’ll be, that’s what. Where’s your longboard?” Molly made a loop through the living room, looking behind the reclin
er in the corner.

  “In the garage. I haven’t been on it since before I moved in with Brad.” She thought for a second. He didn’t like her skateboarding…said it was the sport of boy band wannabes.

  “I know. Which is why we’re going out. Clean slates and all. Plus they paved that new subdivision road over by Alta Terra, and it’s smooth and fresh and you know what it’ll be like to ride that.”

  Ginger smiled. “Tempting. I’ll go find it.”

  She went out to the garage and rummaged around. Some of the boxes were the ones Molly had helped her pack up after Brad died. The flap of one of them had popped up. She knelt to tuck it back in and saw the blue brim of a hat.

  The Red Sox ball cap she’d gotten for Brad. He’d never worn it.

  She swallowed hard. She missed him.

  She pulled the hat out and yanked the tag off. She put it on and tucked her hair behind her ears. I like it. I’ll wear it. For Brad. For me.

  She found her longboard on the shelf above the lawnmower and brought it out to the driveway. Zoë perked up and started bouncing around, sensing a trip in the works.

  “There you are. Nice hat.” Molly put a leash on Zoë and plunked her board down. “Fresh road and then who knows? Maybe we can skate to the park and let the dog run around.”

  The newly paved road was a few blocks up into the hills from Ginger’s house. The air was warm, and the asphalt wiggled with heat mirages as they climbed it. Zoë trotted enthusiastically next to Ginger.

  “How come we haven’t done this in so long?” Ginger handed Zoë’s leash to Molly. “Hold her. I’m going first. She’ll get tangled up and kill us both if I hang on to her.”

  Molly nodded. “Fine, you go first. And we haven’t done this in so long because you were all about being a couple.”

  “Huh.” Ginger hadn’t thought much about that. She shifted her weight and looked down the hill, turning the idea over in her head.

  “Huh, nothing. You know what I mean. You date somebody; you let all your stuff slide for his stuff. At least with Brad, you did.” Molly shrugged and sat on the curb with the dog.

  Ginger took a nice deep breath and centered herself on the board. Then she stood tall and picked up the foot holding her fast to the top of the hill. “Well, I’m here now. See ya at the bottom!”

  She felt the smooth black ribbon of road under her board, and swiveled her hips to make big lazy curves, feeling the wheels under her feet.

  “Go, Ginger!” Molly’s voice shrank behind her.

  She let out a whoop and heard the dog answer with an excited bark.

  She reached the bottom of the hill and coasted to a gentle stop. She turned around and watched Molly let Zoë loose. Zoë bounced down the hill, barking and galloping.

  Joy. That’s what joy looks like. She laughed at the dog and sat on her board, arms wide to catch the big Husky.

  She ducked her head to avoid the dog’s sloppy tongue and heard Molly singing “Home on the Range” as she glided down the hill. “Sit, Zoë. That’s enough kisses.”

  Molly came to a stop next to her, put a toe down, and flipped her board up on end. “That’s how it’s done.”

  “Girl, please. You wouldn’t even own a skateboard if it wasn’t for me.”

  Molly nodded. “You’re right about that. And will you promise me that it won’t get put up on a shelf for some guy again?”

  Ginger knew she was talking about more than the skateboard. “I promise.”

  “To the park, and then we’re going out tonight. No arguments.”

  Ginger nodded—in agreement or surrender, she wasn’t sure. “No arguments.” She straightened the brim of her cap and pushed off.

  “Yes? That was a yes? I’m taking it as a yes.” Molly followed her.

  Ginger called out behind her as she and the dog sailed down the street. “Okay!”

  But after a moment, Molly picked up the pace and passed Ginger. “Success!”

  Once she had a yes, Molly seemed totally focused on fulfilling her promise. She hustled Ginger around all afternoon, not about to give her the opportunity to change her mind about the evening. They took Zoë to the park for a few hours and dropped her back by Ginger’s house. Then they went to Molly’s to get ready. Molly’d already decided Ginger would stay the night. They’d have a “genuine slumber party,” she explained.

  Molly proved to be very distracting. Maybe I can just move in with her, and I’ll never think about anything bad. She won’t give me the chance; she talks so much. Ginger smiled to herself.

  The sun began its descent, and Molly flitted around the house. She lit candles and put on soft music.

  “Are we on a date?” Ginger watched all of her friend’s doings.

  “No. Whenever I get ready to go out, I try to get in a nice, relaxed state. I even—” she had her lighter and was pulling a bundle of something out of her drawer “—like to cleanse my aura, so to speak.”

  Ginger felt uneasy. “The last cleanse we tried to do went very poorly, if you remember.”

  Molly stopped, her eyes saying she realized she’d brought up the forbidden subject. She looked at Ginger, waiting for her response.

  I need to be good about this. “When you thought maybe I should wipe the slate clean. Start fresh.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ginger thought about it for a minute. “Maybe I do need to do that. Not for a guy…” She wouldn’t even say his name. “Not for him, but for me. I should start with my own clean slate.”

  Molly looked relieved.

  I’ve been so hard on her. Molly’s been amazing to me.

  “Well, I’m glad you have that outlook,” her friend said. “I think you’re the most resilient person I know.” She took the two wine glasses from the table behind her and handed one to Ginger. It was full of a smooth-smelling red. “A toast, one worthy of my diversion from monk-ish clean living.” Ginger lifted her glass. Molly smiled. “To fresh starts. And good luck this time, maybe.” She took a deep swallow.

  Ginger did the same. She felt the liquid warm her stomach. She could do this. “Let’s go out.”

  The two went to a small place downtown on the mezzanine of an old department store. It looked over the ground floor, which was full of shops, a bakery, and a coffeehouse. The bar was filled with bankers from the adjacent office building, tearing it up on a Friday night. The space was warm with mahogany and gaslight. It was comforting, almost.

  “Are you glad you came out with me?” Molly sat close all night, to the point of hovering.

  “Yeah. I feel fine. You were right. It’s healthy to be out with people.”

  “Girls! Hey!”

  Ginger turned to see Bode. He must’ve seen them at the table as he rode up the escalator.

  Molly smiled at him and raised an eyebrow at Ginger.

  Ginger found herself happy to see him. “Come join us.”

  Bode sat. He and Molly launched into a lengthy discussion of the merits of yoga and quinoa and other boring but very safe topics. Bode seemed to enjoy talking about his muscles and his metabolism.

  “No, seriously, if you wake up and chug a cup of hot water with lemon at, like, two in the morning, it fires up your whole body and soul when you wake up the next day. It’s, like, spiritually transformational.” He nodded and smiled at both ladies. Ginger was reminded of her panting, happy dog comparison again.

  Molly scoffed. “If I’m awake at two in the morning, it better be because I’m getting my world rocked, not sipping lemon water.” She looked over Ginger’s shoulder, down the length of the bar. “I’m going to go powder my nose.”

  Ginger knew the look. Molly was on the prowl. She must’ve spotted someone in the bar. This made Ginger feel good. Molly had relaxed enough to stop playing mother hen. I should encourage this. It would prove I’m okay.

  “Molly, make the rounds. Don’t just powder your nose; there are men out there, waiting to be met.”

  She looked hesitant. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Bo
de can keep me company.” Ginger smiled at him. He looked relaxed, too. This was working out pretty well. A fresh start.

  Molly disappeared down the way, heading into the depths of the bar. “Be back in a bit,” she called.

  Ginger and Bode talked for a while more before she felt her eyes tiring. She spotted Molly just at that moment, making her way back through the crowd to their table.

  “How’s it going?” Ginger stifled a yawn.

  Molly straightened up. “You’re tired. We need to go, huh? I’ll just tell this person I’m leaving.”

  Ginger had no desire to ruin Molly’s night. I’ve played the prima donna plenty. “Molly! Bode can take me home. If you’ve met somebody, you need to hang with him.”

  Molly’s face lit up. “You’re a rock star. I have no idea if this is anything, but you never know. He’s not the prettiest picture, but he sure is funny. Bigger than I usually like, but hey, that’s okay. He’s working for me, what can I say? I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Molly leaned over and kissed Ginger on the cheek. Then she disappeared back into the crowd.

  Bode was already on his feet. “You ready to go?”

  Bode talked all the way home about music, and they made it back to her house before midnight. When they got inside, Ginger felt less tired. She sat on the couch.

  Bode plopped down next to her. “Where’s your dock for your phone? I’ll play you some songs before I go. Then you’ll know what I was talking about in the car.”

  His enthusiasm amused her. “Bode, I believe you. I’ve heard of Van Halen. They were big in the eighties.”

  Bode sat for a second. “There was another singer before Sammy Hagar.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

  They stayed up another hour, playing songs. Nothing too sad, nothing too pensive. Bode kept the tone light and the pace quick. Ginger avoided anything that might trigger a Brad flashback. After a while she admitted it: Bode was fun to be with.