Chapter Twenty-One
No one answers the door.
So we repeat the ringing and knocking.
When the door still doesn’t open, I look at Krish. “That’s anticlimactic.” But given that Reva Smith didn’t answer the phone when Mr. Barr called her, maybe we should have expected it.
He doesn’t answer. He has that look again where something is going on inside him that has nothing to do with this moment. It’s like he’s not even here, like he’s disappeared into another time. I’m getting intense Time Traveler’s Wife vibes.
“What’s going on, Krish?” I ask, not for the first time.
Not for the first time, he looks at me in that way where it’s almost like he’s forgotten I’m here.
“You’re right,” he says, snapping out of it. “That was anticlimactic.”
I sit down on the steps.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Trying to figure out what to do next.”
He sits down next to me.
“Are you ever going to tell me why this means so much to you?” I ask.
“I take my work seriously.”
I point at his face. “That’s not it.”
He makes an Excuse me? face. “Do you ever stop making assumptions about people?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You assumed I had the same kind of Brown Town childhood as you did just because I look like you.”
“I look like you? That’s below the belt.”
He makes a Haha, very funny face.
“Fine. But that’s not what I’m doing this time. And I never assumed your childhood was anything like mine. I doubt anyone’s was, even in Brown Town.” I don’t know why my voice shakes when I say it, but I hug my knees and look away.
“I’m guessing you’re just going to let that sit there without any explanation.”
“Says the man who never explains any of his own behavior.”
“Fine. What do you want to know? Ask me.”
Wow. I was not expecting that. There’s so much I want to know, but I have to pick the right question because he’s wily and he’s not actually interested in telling me anything. Either he’s deflecting from whatever is going on with him or this is a trick to get me to let him ask me the same thing so he can find out things about me for his precious story.
“You said earlier that the only thing you could tell me for sure is that you were not doing this only for the story. What did you mean by that? Why are you doing it, then?”
He looks surprised, impressed by how I framed that. I make a face that tells him I don’t enjoy being underestimated. I have more experience with it than he could ever imagine.
“The same reason you’re doing it. To find out who the ring belongs to.”
He is wily. Because he’s not lying. He’s just telling a part of the truth: another thing I’m a master at. “But why?” I ask.
Before I can figure out if he’s going to answer me, a woman comes jogging down the sidewalk. She stops in front of us. There’s a moment when all three of us freeze. Then I realize that she was headed to the door we were just knocking on and we’re blocking her way.
“Hi.” She’s lean and tall with dark kohl lining her eyes. The word that comes to mind is statuesque . Her dark skin and leanly muscled body are glistening with sweat, and her angular, faintly lined face is framed with sweaty silver curls that have escaped her ponytail. She’s obviously just returned from a run. Black running tights, black running tank, and bright-white sneakers. She emanates power in a way I’ve only seen in the movies.
“Hi,” I say and stand up. “I’m Mira Salvi. Do you live here?”
“I thought that was you,” she says, and I notice that she has the kindest eyes.
I must look surprised because she smiles. “Andrew Barr from Anderson’s jewelers left me a message. I usually don’t check my messages until I’m on my last mile. I’m Reva.”
She shakes my hand, then turns to Krish as he stands up. His quicksilver mood has turned again. He looks like he’s seen a ghost and he’s disappeared deep inside himself to get away from it. Something very strange is going on with him.
He introduces himself. With his usual “reporter for the New York Times .” The dark lenses of his glasses obscure most of his face.
“You’re doing a story on this?” Reva’s eyes study him. “Why?”
“A tourist finds a ring near the Empire State Building and tries to return it to the owner,” he says, as though that’s answer enough.
She smiles. “Well, I’m seriously grateful she did. It’s been like being naked without it. I haven’t been separated from it since I was a child.” She looks at me with those kind eyes again. “Thank you.”
“Can you describe it for us?” Krish says in the coldest voice I’ve heard come out of him.
I want to stomp on his foot, but Reva meets the challenge on his face with such withering haughtiness it’s a miracle he doesn’t crumble to dust. “You know I could just watch the video and describe it, right?” She jogs around us to her front porch. “Barr told me about the video, and I watched it.” She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re really something special. I hope you know that.”
She’s barely met me, but it’s still rude, the way Krish scoffs. She turns her attention to him. “I guess you want to know what’s inscribed on the inside.”
His response is to fold his arms across his chest.
“Would you like to come in?”
I say yes just as Krish says “No, thank you.”
She gives us a curious look. “It’s part of a ...” She releases a breath. Talking about the ring obviously isn’t easy for her. “It’s part of a set. There’s the Sanskrit shree symbol inscribed into the inside, which spans both bands. My band has the lower half, which looks like one diagonal line and two horizontal lines.”
She’s exactly right, and my relief is so huge it’s like breath filling my lungs. Reva reaches out and squeezes my arm and gives me a smile that can only be described as fierce. I’m dazzled.
Krish seems anything but. “Where’s the other ring? The pair.”
Her eyes harden in a way that’s brutal and so stark she obviously doesn’t care that we see it. “I have no idea.”
“Where did you get the ring?” Even when he was distant, Krish has been nothing but polite. Now he’s rude to the point of meanness, and I have no idea who this person is.
“Krish!” I say. “That’s not our business.”
“It isn’t? So after all this you’re just going to hand it over to someone who doesn’t even know where she got it from?”
“I didn’t say I don’t know where I got it from.”
“Where did you get it from?” Krish asks.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business. I’m old enough to be your mother, young man, and I see that your mother forgot to teach you manners.”
Krish takes a step back. “My mother taught me to be smart about who I trust.”
“Well, congratulations to her. Fortunately for me I couldn’t care less if you trust me or not. Just do what you came here to do and you never have to see me again.” She looks at me. A deep sadness is back in her eyes. “Could I see it, please?”
I reach for the ring in my bag, and Krish puts a hand on my arm. “What are you doing?”
“What we came here to do. It’s obviously her ring.”
“I can show you pictures of myself with it hanging around my neck over the years,” Reva says.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, although I’m overwhelmed with the desire to know what she was like over the years.
“I thought you were eager to learn the story behind the ring,” he says incredulously. “Now you don’t care?”
“Only if she was comfortable sharing it. She’s obviously not.”
The way Reva’s been looking at me changes. “Why don’t you both come in,” she says. “Please.”
I take Krish’s arm and drag him in. “Just for a minute.”
He goes with me, even though there’s a new coldness to him. He’s a completely different person. He was obviously more interested in the ring’s story than mine. Everything else was just an act. I’m too filled with wonder at having found Reva to care about the betrayal the realization sparks. I can’t believe I did it. I found her.
Magic, Saket’s voice whispers inside me. Magic. Magic. Magic.
The inside of the house is warm and welcoming. It smells of lavender and peace. Soothing gray-blue wainscoting covers walls that are hung with architectural renderings.
“Are you an architect?” I ask, taking everything in with unconcealed admiration.
“My partner was.”
“I’m sorry. Is he ...?”
She smiles. “She. She died five years ago. A boating accident. We were visiting Alaska. It was her favorite place on earth.”
“I’m sorry.”
She has the faraway look in her eyes I recognize as grief. “Thank you. Loss is part of life.”
I take the pouch from my purse, slip the ring and chain onto my palm, and offer it to her. As soon as her eyes see it, something shifts in the air. Her entire body sags with relief, and her already sad eyes glaze with moisture.
After the barest pause, she takes it from me with impatience and reverence, and that makes me tear up too.
“Thank you,” we both say together and then smile.
Krish remains unmoved. “Did the other ring belong to her, to your partner?”
“No,” she says simply.
He’s obviously not ready to give up. “But you know who it belonged to.”
Something in her face changes as she studies him. She swallows, and her jaw tightens. I know what people look like when pain flashes through them. That’s what just happened. “Why are you so interested in the other ring? Did you know it was part of a pair before you came here?”
“My brother’s fiancé, he’s a jewelry designer, and he told us it was part of a set,” I say.
“That’s amazing that they can tell like that, just by looking at it.” She says it casually, but she’s watching Krish with an expression I can’t decipher. It’s suspicious but also scared, and yet not quite either of those things. “I haven’t seen the other ring in forty years.”
Krish’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet. We’re indoors, and his glasses are no longer opaque. It’s almost like she loses her balance. She grips the back of the couch hard enough that it stretches between her fingers.
“I’m sorry, I totally forgot that I have to get on a call, and I’m already late.” She hurries toward us and nudges me to the door. “Truly, I’m so grateful.” Her voice is sincere, even though she’s obviously shaken. “I would love to send you a little something as a thank-you. I have your number from Barr. I’ll text you for your address. I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to take this.”
Her breathing has turned erratic. There’s an edge of panic to it. I put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Can I do something?”
She laughs. I almost believe it’s real. “Maybe your reporter friend needs some help leaving?”
Finally Krish unfreezes. He’s gone from rude to angry. His anger is raw and palpable as he strides past me and out the door. “It was nice meeting you, Ms. Smith,” he throws over his shoulder. “Have a nice life.”
“What the hell was that?” I ask, racing down the steps after him, because honestly, what the hell was that?
“That was my story ending up being a damp squib.” He stops at the bottom of the steps and runs his hand through his hair, pulling it from the tie at his nape.
“Excuse me? We just did something nearly impossible! No one believed we could find the owner of the ring, and we did. There is nothing even a little damp-squiby about that!”
I turn away from him and start walking. This should be such a great moment. My heart feels like it’s swooping around the skies. There’s also steam coming out of my ears.
Krish falls in step next to me. “I don’t understand why you’re angry with me. The least she could have done is be more gracious to you. You were so invested in her story without even knowing her. Now you’ve got nothing.”
“She was absolutely lovely to me! I have everything I hoped to have. You are the one who thinks he’s got nothing. But if you can’t make something from a story like this, I don’t know how you’ve won all those awards. You’re giving me whiplash. One moment you’re Mr. Gallant, the next moment you’re a jerk to a lovely woman for a stupid story!”
“I did not win all those awards by thinking of my stories as stupid.”
“Fine, then go ahead and put your story ahead of real human beings and go brood somewhere else. I just did an amazing thing, and I’m going to go celebrate!”
“Let me guess, a horse carriage ride in Central Park. Just like in When Harry Met Sally .”
“Great, so you lied about the photographic memory too. Because there’s no horse carriage ride in When Harry Met Sally .”
“The sacrilege,” he mumbles.
Obviously he’s never even watched the film. Which is the real sacrilege. “You know when I thanked you for being above-average courteous and decent? I’m taking that—”
“You cannot take compliments back. What are you, two years old?”
“You’re fighting with me about taking back what’s not even a real compliment, and you think I’m two?”
We’re both breathing hard. We just speed walked across Park Slope, but that has nothing to do with it. Then I crack a smile. I can’t help it. This argument is just so incredibly stupid, and I’m just so incredibly happy that Reva has her ring.
“We did it!” I say in a small voice.
I want to tell everyone I know, and I have no one I can tell who cares. And I could never have done it without him. He’s been with me every step of the way, even though it’s for entirely selfish reasons.
He’s staring at me, and I could swear he heard everything I just said in my head. “You did it,” he says, just as softly, and there’s true wonder in his voice for the first time since I met him. Suddenly he takes my elbow and starts walking back to the bike. “You know what, you’re right. You deserve to celebrate.”