by Kait Nolan
“I’m sorry it can’t be more.”
Though she looked pained, the woman nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“I’ll put together the paperwork.”
As the jeweler disappeared to an office in the back, the woman knuckled away tears and picked up the ring. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Travis elbowed him. “Earth to Everett. How about checking back in to this planet and offering up some opinions.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
As they debated the merits of white gold versus platinum, simple versus ornate, half of Everett’s mind was on the woman.
I trusted the wrong person.
Who would take advantage of such a sweet soul? Or maybe that was exactly it. Somebody thought she’d make a good mark. And evidently she had if she was in deep enough to be here. He wished he could do something to help.
As the jeweler re-emerged, paperwork in hand, Brandon called out, “When you get a minute, we’ve got a few engagement rings we’d like to see.”
“Be right with you.”
“Dude, what’s up with you?” whispered Brandon.
“Nothing. I just couldn’t help overhearing.” He nodded toward the woman.
“Yeah. Sucky situation all around,” conceded Brandon. “Nothing you can do about it, though. Even if there was, she’s gone now.”
Everett whipped around in time to see her striding out the door, heading west.
“What can I help you gentlemen with?” inquired the jeweler, coming around to their side of the store.
Travis slapped Brandon on the back. “My buddy here is looking to get himself hitched.”
“Congratulations, sir. What sort of ring are you in the market for?”
“Actually, can we see the one you just bought?” asked Everett.
“Certainly.” The jeweler retrieved it.
Brandon held it up. “I don’t know. It looks pretty small. Isabelle’s tiny, but not that tiny.”
“We can resize anything that isn’t the correct size.”
“May I?” Everett held out a hand. The round cut sapphire was flanked by smaller accent diamonds in an ornate, antique setting.
“The story that came with it was rather sweet. Her grandmother was a Broadway star back in her day. Had a whirlwind romance with the grandfather and with this ring, he stole America’s sweetheart.”
A story like that made this a real part of a family history. An heirloom. Everett had been taught to respect and value such things. He suspected from the seller’s level of upset that she had, as well. Which made the situation that much more tragic. The ring itself was a lovely piece, but it could’ve been hideous and he still would’ve asked, “How much?”
“Wait a minute,” protested Brandon. “I haven’t even looked at these others. And I think she’d prefer a traditional diamond.”
“Not for you,” said Everett. “How much?”
The jeweler named a figure.
Everett didn’t blink. “Ring it up.”
“Man, what the hell are you doing?” asked Brandon.
“My good deed for the year. If you could ring it up fast, that would be great.”
“Everett, buddy, are you about to do what I think you’re about to do?” asked Travis. He kept his voice light and even, the kind of tone you used with a person threatening to jump off a ledge.
“I have no idea what you think I’m about to do.” Everett handed over his credit card.
“I think you’re about to buy an engagement ring for a perfect stranger.”
“Then yes, I’m doing exactly what you think I’m doing.”
“This is insane,” said Brandon.
“Life’s too short not to be a little crazy once in a while. Besides, it’s not like I’m proposing. I just want to give it back to her.” Everett signed the credit card receipt and accepted the ring in a box. Saluting his friends, he said, “I’ll be right back!”
He bolted out of Vandevelde’s and headed the direction the woman had turned, eyes searching for the red parka and blonde hair. The slushy sidewalks kept him from sprinting, so he took the opportunity to glance through storefront windows. Given the apparently dire state of her finances, Everett didn’t figure she’d have been stopping in any of them to shop, but he didn’t want to risk missing her. It should’ve been easy, even with the crowd, but he didn’t see her.
She had a five minute head start. How far could she have gotten?
Everett went all the way to the parking area, but there was no sign of the woman who’d sold the ring.
I’ll just get her name from the jeweler. He’ll have a record from the sale, he thought.
Back at Vandevelde’s, Brandon and Travis had narrowed it down to three choices.
“Find her?” asked Travis.
“No,” Everett admitted. He looked to the man behind the counter. “Can I get her name and number to arrange a meeting to give the ring back to her?”
“I’m afraid I have a policy of strict confidentiality of my client’s information.”
Everett tried a smile. “But surely you could make an exception this one time. In the name of a good cause.”
“Young man, you may be as well intentioned as you seem. Or you could just as easily be a potential thief or worse. That young lady has had enough trouble in her life. I won’t be the cause of more.”
Everett tamped down on his disappointment. “No, it’s all right. I understand.”
“So what are you going to do?” asked Brandon.
“Keep looking. It’s doubtful she’d have had any knowledge of the store’s reputation if she wasn’t a local. Town’s just not that big. I’ll run into her eventually.” Everett moved over to the counter. “Now, let’s see those contenders.”
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Wishful, Mississippi. From the post Civil War fountain on the town green, to the gossip served along with grits and coffee at Dinner Belles Diner, it will always be Campbell Crawford’s hometown–preferably just as it is. The way he sees it, the corporate big-box store that wants to unpack on the outskirts threatens everything he holds dear, but the town’s economy demands some kind of change. He’s not sure city girl Norah Burke can possibly understand Wishful enough help him turn things around–no matter how much his dog loves her. Norah falls for the charms of the town as hard as she falls for the charms of the man, and she’s determined to help. But even if they can get the votes to send the suits packing and get the town on its feet again, can she really give up her corner office and power lunches for the corner booth at the local diner? What’s a nice executive like her going to do in a place like this?
Excerpt To Get Me To You
“Let’s step outside for some air,” he said. There were things he wanted—needed—to give voice to, and the middle of a crowded dance floor wasn’t the place.
She nodded once and let him guide her by way of a hand at the small of her back toward the back door. By grace of the frigid temperatures, the porch designated for outdoor dining and smoking was empty. Norah went straight to the railing and leaned against it, lifting her face to the sky. Cam resisted the urge to move in behind her, boxing her in, and instead leaned beside her, his arm brushing hers.
“I miss simple.” She sighed and tipped her head against his arm. “I miss you.”
He hadn’t expected the admission and credited lowered inhibitions due to the Three Furies. “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere. And neither have you, not yet.”
“But I will. Not tomorrow. Probably not next week. I don’t know when I’m leaving. But I have to start taking control of my life again. If that conversation with my father did anything, it lit a fire under me to finally start facing the long job search. I can’t keep putting it off.”
He was losing her, back to the life she’d come here to escape. Because he was perilously close to begging, Cam kept his mouth shut, fisting both hands around the railing until the wrought iron began to creak.
She mistook the
reason for his silence. “I promise you, I won’t go until Wishful is safe. And I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
He believed her. And cursed himself for wishing more danger on his town, just so she’d stay.
If he said nothing now, if he let her walk away, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
Cam turned her to face him. “Isn’t it worth grabbing whatever happiness we can, while we can?” He could feel the pull between them, always the pull.
Her yearning to give into it was written clearly on her face. But mixed with it was equal parts sadness and resignation. “It isn’t about happiness.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because there are bigger things at stake.”
“I get that you’ve got this mission, this purpose. I support that. Hell, I asked you to take it on. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take something for yourself. Even Wonder Woman had Steve Trevor.”
“You’re no Steve Trevor.”
Before Cam could process the insult of that, she was reaching up, cupping his jaw. “Steve Trevor didn’t recognize what was right in front of him. You actually see me.”
What Cam saw was a brilliant, beautiful woman with an inexplicably fast hold on his heart and a mule-headed resistance to taking it. He might’ve said any number of things to try to persuade her, or he might’ve just given in and kissed her, as he’d wanted to do pretty much since the moment he’d stopped. But Fate, cruel bitch that she was, had other plans in the form of his meddling cousin, who came barreling out the door like an overgrown golden retriever.
Mitch drew up short, his mouth dropping open as he took in their embrace in a glance. “I…uh…just came to say the food’s ready. And Miranda’s here.”
“Great. I’m starved,” said Norah. She tapped Cam’s cheek gently. “Thanks for the dance, Leonidas.” She stepped away from him with the grace that completely eluded her on the dance floor and made her way to the door with the careful deliberation of the inebriated.
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