Chapter Thirty-Seven
Anson
T he attorney’s office smells like leather and old paper, the kind of place where important deals are signed and life-changing decisions are made. My palms are dry, my nerves steady, as I sit at the long, polished table, waiting for the final paperwork to be pushed across to me.
Margie sits across from me, her small frame straight-backed, hands folded neatly in her lap. She watches me with quiet approval, like she’s proud this place is going to someone who actually cares about it. Beside her, the current owner of the heritage cottage—Thorne Kingsley, a gray-haired man in a linen suit—reviews the last few pages before he hands them back to the attorney.
“Everything looks in order,” he says, his voice even, but there’s something in his expression—relief maybe—that tells me he’s ready to let go.
The attorney, a woman named Hillary, nods and slides a pen in my direction. “Anson, if everything looks good, sign here, here, and here.”
I take the pen, let out a slow breath, and put my name to paper. With each signature, the weight of it settles in. This is mine now. Not just a house, but a home. A place to build a future.
When I finally set the pen down, Thorne leans back with an easy smile. “Congratulations, son. You’re now the owner of one of the oldest cottages in Sandcastle Cove. She’s a beauty. My late wife, Adele, and I spent forty happy years there and raised a wonderful family. I hope it brings you as much joy as it brought us.”
Margie beams, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “You’re going to take good care of it. I know you will.”
I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “I will. Thank you for trusting me with it.”
Hillary shakes hands with each of us in turn, and just like that, it’s done. The house is mine.
I push open the door to my mom’s jewelry store, and the familiar chime above the entrance echoes through the quiet space. The scent of silver polish and aged wood fills my lungs.
She looks up from her workbench in the back, eyes narrowing as she registers my presence. “Anson.” She sounds surprised as she puts down the tool she was holding. “I thought your closing was today?”
I smirk. “It was,” I say as I raise the folder in my hand.
She wipes her hands on a cloth and steps out from behind the counter, looking me over with that assessing gaze she’s always had—the one that can see straight through me.
“Well, congratulations, son!” she says as she comes to wrap me in a warm hug. “Your dad and I are so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She pulls back and smiles, and then her forehead wrinkles in question. “What else?”
She has always been able to read me like a book.
I exhale slowly, reaching into my pocket, fingers brushing over the small velvet box I’ve kept hidden for the past few months. I turn it over in my hand once, twice, before finally pulling it out and setting it on the counter.
Mom’s eyes drop to it, and her brows lift. “Oh?”
I don’t say anything yet. Instead, I open the box. The gold band is worn with age, the Victorian setting intricate and timeless. The deep red gemstone catches the light, but the tiny gaps where diamonds once sat are still there—a reminder of the day I first met Tabby.
Mom leans in, tilting her head. Her fingers twitch like she’s itching to pick it up. “I remember this ring.” Her voice softens with something unreadable. “The day the girl of your dreams walked in, thinking we were a pawnshop.”
I nod.
A slow smile spreads across her face. “And I see you’ve kept it all this time.”
My throat tightens, but I nod again. “Yeah.”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, she finally reaches for the ring, picking it up with gentle fingers, turning it under the light. “So,” she says carefully, “what do you want me to do with it?”
I inhale sharply, my heart kicking up a notch. “I want you to remake it. For her.”
She stills, looking up at me.
“I want an engagement ring,” I say, the words feeling foreign and yet more real now that I’ve spoken them out loud to my mother. “And I want to use this ring, but I want to make it something new. Something … ours.”
Mom blinks rapidly, and for the first time in my life, I see her get choked up.
“Oh, Anson.”
She presses her lips together, shaking her head like she’s trying to gather herself.
I clear my throat and keep going before I lose my nerve. “I want to take the ruby out and replace it with a diamond. A big one.” I exhale. “And I want you to cut the ruby down—small pieces, enough to replace the missing diamonds in the setting. So the ring still has her grandmother’s stone, just … in a new way.”
Mom exhales sharply, and for a second, I wonder if she’ll refuse. If she’ll say I’m ruining an antique, that I’m breaking something sentimental.
But then she swipes at her eyes and shakes her head. “That’s the most beautiful idea I’ve ever heard.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
Mom studies the ring again, running her thumb over the gold. “You’ve thought this through?”
“I have.”
She looks at me. “And you’re sure? Because it seems awfully sudden.”
“I’m not proposing today or anything. But I will one day, and I want to be ready when the time comes.”
“Does she have any idea?” she asks.
I shake my head. “She knows I’m in love with her, but, no, she doesn’t know I’m thinking about marriage. She doesn’t even know I kept the ring.”
Mom smiles, slow and knowing. “Oh, she’s going to be so surprised.”
I laugh under my breath. “I hope so.” I glance at the ring. “So, you think you can actually do it?”
She scoffs, waving a hand. “Oh, please. You know I’d move heaven and earth for this.” She narrows her eyes. “And I’ll only charge you, say … a million dollars?”
I chuckle. “Right. I’ll Venmo you.”
Mom grins, then sobers as she looks at the ring again. “This is a really special thing you’re doing, Anson. The way you met, the way you helped her that day …” She exhales. “It’s full circle.”
I nod, my chest tightening. “That’s the idea.”
She presses her lips together and nods. “Okay,” she says, voice firmer now, like she’s settling into her professional mode. “I’ll need a few weeks. Cutting the ruby will take time, and I’ll have to source the right diamond.”
“Take whatever time you need,” I say. “I want it to be perfect.”
Mom’s eyes shine as she closes the ring box with a quiet snap. She reaches across the counter, squeezing my hand.
“She’s a lucky girl,” she says softly.
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I’m the lucky one.”
She gives my hand one last squeeze before pulling it back. “I’ll get started on this right away.”
By the time I pull into the driveway, the guys are already there, Parker’s truck parked beside Lennon’s SUV. The front door is unlocked when I step inside, and I barely get two steps in before I hear Sebastian’s voice from the kitchen.
“Damn, this fridge is depressing.”
I round the corner to find all three of them standing in front of my fridge, which is open and pretty empty, except for a couple of water bottles I placed in there earlier.
Parker glances over his shoulder. “Good thing we came prepared.”
Lennon lifts a case of beer onto the counter with a grin. “Welcome home, man.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help but grin. “Appreciate it.”
Sebastian starts stocking the fridge like he owns the place, loading in beer cans and items from a cardboard box. “Avie sent you some basics too.”
Parker leans against the counter, arms crossed. “Not that we think you can’t take care of yourself, but we do know you.”
I grab a can from the case, crack it open, and take a sip before giving them a mock glare. “I’m fully capable of feeding myself.”
Lennon snorts. “The girls think you’re gonna starve.”
I roll my eyes but let it slide.
Sebastian shuts the fridge. “All right, now that your fridge isn’t completely tragic, we’ve got places to be.”
“Yeah?” I take another sip.
Parker nods. “One of Lennon’s Coast Guard buddies is having a retirement party at The Point.”
Lennon smirks. “Figured it’d be a good excuse to celebrate you finally closing on this place.”
I knew the guys were coming over to see the place and celebrate. I didn’t plan anything fancy, but I’m not going to turn down a night with my friends.
I set my beer down. “All right, let me change, and we’ll go.”
Sebastian gestures to my slacks and polo shirt. “You look fine.”
“Yeah, but Lennon has on a dress shirt. I don’t want him to look better than me. It is my big night.”
I head to my room, pulling on a button-down and swapping my sneakers for tobacco-colored boat shoes.
When I come back, Parker nods in approval. “Lookin’ sharp, homeowner.”
I shake my head with a grin and grab my keys. “Let’s go.”