Chapter 6 #2
“Not like that, you perv. I mean, maybe.” Another eyebrow wiggle. “But you know what I mean. Letter of the law and all that. He’s always been kind,” she said, echoing my earlier thoughts. “But he’s black and white. Not a lot of room for grey.”
She would know. When Sterling had been drinking, West had thrown her in jail more than once.
It hadn’t taken him long to cure her of trying to drink and drive.
She’d been young and stupid, but a night in jail had impressed upon her the importance of not getting behind the wheel when she’d been drinking.
After the first time he’d thrown her behind bars, she hadn’t tried to drive drunk again.
I knew there’d been a night or two when she’d slept in the chair in his office or an empty cell because she couldn’t drive home and didn’t want to ask our brothers for a room at the Inn.
“I don’t have a problem staying on the right side of the law,” I said, frowning to myself as I thought it through.
“It’s not that. I deal with enough regulations running a brewery.
I know how black and white things can be and when it’s important to do things the right way,” I said. “It’s the bossiness.”
“You never liked anyone telling you what to do.”
“Hello, pot calling the kettle black,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, I know we all have that problem. Except Parker. She doesn’t seem to mind being bossed around as much, but she picked a better one to do it this time.”
“Definitely,” I said, thinking of Nash, Parker’s fiancé. “I’d let Nash boss me around any day,” I joked. “Not that he has eyes for anyone but Parker.”
“I think when it comes to West,” Sterling began, and then stopped.
“Hey, look.” A few feet ahead was a booth draped in rust-colored fabric, trays and cases laid out, filled with bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and rings, all in a nature theme.
My heart kicked in my chest. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through to find the picture of the gold oak leaf necklace Quinn had found in what used to be our father’s hunting cabin.
As we neared the booth, I looked from the picture on my phone to the stock the jeweler had displayed.
It wasn’t an exact match, but it was pretty fucking close.
I scanned the booth and found a woman about my age hovering by a display of earrings, dressed all in black, her copper-colored hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.
She smiled as I approached. I stopped at a tray of necklaces similar to the picture on my phone.
No oak leaves. I spotted a beautifully crafted tree branch and a goldfinch. Then I saw it—a maple leaf. Not an oak leaf, but it was a gold charm hanging from a chain—almost exactly like the one in the photograph.
“Can I help you find something?” the jeweler asked.
I glanced at Sterling, whose eyes were on the maple leaf necklace. She didn’t say anything, so I took the lead. “Actually, yes.” I tapped my finger on the maple leaf and showed the artist the picture of the oak leaf necklace on my phone. “Is this your work?”
“I, uh,” she took a step back, shaking her head. “I recognize it, but—I mean—I don’t know. Where did you find it?”
“It belonged to a friend,” Sterling lied easily. “We’ve been admiring it, and she couldn’t remember where she got it except that she knew it was around here somewhere. She got it a few years ago. Could it have been yours?”
Sterling blinked her big blue eyes up at the jeweler.
Sterling was dazzlingly beautiful. Long golden curls and those Sawyer blue eyes.
Her smile had been known to turn people to mush—male or female, it didn’t seem to matter.
The jeweler didn’t fall under her spell, but she eased slightly.
I kept my mouth shut. Between the two of us, Sterling was more likely to get information.
I was too upfront, too demanding. Not assets in a conversation where someone had something to hide.
The jeweler shook her head again. Sterling fluttered her lashes and gave a smile so sweet it made my teeth hurt.
“Are you sure? It looks so much like this maple leaf here, but we really wanted an oak.” She looked at me and back at the jeweler.
“For all the oak trees by our house, you know? And this one—” She tapped on the screen of my phone.
“It’s just so pretty. Are you sure you didn’t make it? ”
“I’m sure,” the jeweler said shortly. “I’ve made a couple of leaves like that one there,” she pointed to the maple in the case. “But no oak leaves—not a couple of years ago.”
“Okay, well, if you’re sure.” Sterling let her shoulders sag in disappointment.
“I’m sure,” the jeweler said again shortly and turned to another customer hovering at the edge of the booth.
We walked away. As soon as we were out of earshot, Sterling said, “That was weird, right? Because that maple leaf—the style of it—the way she pressed the pattern of veins into that leaf...”
“I know,” I said. “It looks exactly like the oak except it’s a maple. But, yeah, the style, the execution, everything. Why wouldn’t she just tell us?”
“I don’t know.” Sterling glanced back over her shoulder. “I don’t think she’s going anywhere. We can keep looking and see what we find.”
We did. I ended up buying a pair of fingerless gloves with a matching hat because the knitter had embroidered hops at the wrists and on the hat brim, and I couldn’t resist. Sterling walked away with a small stone sculpture she said was for Forrest. We saw more jewelers.
Beautiful work. More nature-inspired pieces, but nothing like the maple leaf necklace or the oak leaf on my phone .
When we were done, Sterling turned back towards the first jeweler’s booth. “I want to talk to her again,” she said. The jeweler spotted us as we approached, her spine going stiff, her hands fidgeting as she straightened a tray. The maple leaf charm was gone.
“Hey,” Sterling said in a friendly, ditzy-sounding voice. “You still have that maple leaf?”
“Sold. Sorry,” was the terse reply.
Something told me she was lying. I didn’t know if it was her quick response or the way she couldn’t meet Sterling’s eyes, but I would have bet that maple leaf pendant was still somewhere in this booth.
“Oh, that’s such a shame. It’s not the oak leaf we wanted, but we thought— Are you absolutely sure you didn’t make the necklace we showed you earlier? Maybe you just forgot. It looks so much like your work.”
“I didn’t— I—” Her eyes skipped from one side of the booth to the other, and seeing no other customers, she leaned in, glancing down at the phone in my hand. “Could you put that away?”
Curious, I slid it into my pocket and waited.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “I didn’t make that oak leaf necklace. The reason the maple leaf looks so much like it is, well, I know the artist who made the oak leaf. I admired her work, and I was going through a creative dry spell, and I kind of?—”
“Stole her designs?” I asked.
She flinched at the words and gave a shamed nod, her eyes glued to the tray of bracelets in front of her. “Look, I’m not proud of it, okay? But times were tough, and you know how it is. ”
I shook my head. I did and I didn’t. Times were always tough. And while I’d been inspired by other brewers’ creations, I’d never ripped one off. I was an artist, not a thief.
Sterling edged me back with her shoulder and flashed another of her saccharine sweet smiles.
“I get it. It’s not always easy to come up with new ideas.
And you did a beautiful job with that maple leaf.
But we are really looking for the oak leaf.
Do you remember the name of the designer? I swear we won’t say anything.”
The copper-haired jeweler’s eyes flashed from side to side again, as if making sure no one was close enough to hear. She hesitated.
“Please,” Sterling cajoled. “It would mean so much to us.”
“Buy the maple leaf and I’ll give it to you,” the designer said quickly. “But I don’t have her contact info, just a name.”
“How much is the maple leaf?” I asked, my voice considerably less sweet than my sister’s. Sterling could be a little con artist when she wanted to. For better or worse, I didn’t have that in me. The jeweler inched closer to Sterling and said, “Two hundred fifty.”
“Done,” Sterling answered, shooting me a quelling glare.
I started to say something, and she whacked me with her elbow. “Done,” she said again, and I shut my mouth.
“I’ll pay you back half,” I muttered as the jeweler turned and dug in a bin beneath the table, coming up with the gold maple leaf.
Pulling out a business card, she wrote a name on the back. “This is her. I don’t know if she’s still in the area. Honestly, I haven’t seen her around in a while. But, you know, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’d appreciate it if you kept me out of it when you find her.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sterling said. “All we want is the necklace. And thanks for this,” she held up the box with the maple leaf. “It’s really pretty. You do nice work.”
We strode away, Sterling gripping the box with the necklace so hard her knuckles were white. “It’s a little scary,” I said, “how full of shit you can be.”
“I know,” she said brightly, “but I only use it for good these days.”
“What are you going to do with that name?” I asked, sensing that with her programming skills and close relationship with Hawk, she was the best person to hunt down the name the jeweler had given us. “I don’t recognize it, but that doesn’t mean much.”
“You’re a beer hermit. You don’t know anybody unless they’re in brewing.”
“True,” I said. “But at least now we know where to start.”