Chapter Two
Anson
T he bell on the front door chimes, pulling my attention away from the game on my phone and alerting me that someone is entering the shop.
My mother, Margot, is a master goldsmith and lapidarist. She owns Sea Goddess Jewelers, the only jewelry store on the island. I sometimes help out on my days off from Sebby’s Charters—a charter fishing company—whenever she needs assistance. Today, since Mom has an eye doctor’s appointment, I’m covering the store for a few hours.
I stand up from my spot at Mom’s desk and walk to the counter to greet the customer—a stunning blonde woman. She is wearing white shorts, a multicolored crocheted tank top with a racerback design, and Birkenstock sandals that reveal her teal-tipped toes. She removes her aviator sunglasses, and when her bright blue eyes meet mine, she smiles, revealing deep dimples.
“Hello.” She beams.
“Hi. Are you looking for anything specific?” I ask as she glances at the jewelry pieces displayed in the glass cases lining the sides of the store.
“No, I’m actually looking to sell a few items,” she says as she approaches me. She pulls a box from her crossbody bag and places it on the counter between us. “I’d like to sell them outright. I don’t need a pawn slip or anything.”
Curious, I pick up the box and look inside. It contains a diamond bracelet.
She takes it from me and lays it out on the wooden surface. “This is a seven-inch, ten-carat total weight diamond tennis bracelet in white gold. It was a gift, so I’m not sure of the original cost, but I was hoping to get at least a thousand dollars for it,” she says.
“It’s very nice, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. We aren’t a—” I begin to explain that we don’t buy used jewelry, but she interrupts me.
“Eight hundred, then,” she says, her voice rising slightly.
“Um, that’s a great price, but I still can’t,” I reply, picking up the bracelet and returning it to the box.
“How about five hundred?” she asks defeatedly.
I glance up to see her eyes filling with unshed tears as I close the box and hand it back to her.
She takes it, but instead of leaving, she reaches back into her purse and pulls out a ring. “What about this?” she asks, opening her palm to reveal a gorgeous vintage ring. “It’s a five-carat ruby in an antique yellow-gold Victorian setting with four diamond accents, but two diamonds are missing. It belonged to my grandmother,” she explains, a sniffle escaping her.
I take the ring from her hand. “This is magnificent,” I say. “Why would you want to sell it?”
“I don’t want to sell it, but I’m in a bind, and I need the money. It’s real and worth way more than a thousand dollars. You can check it,” she adds hopefully.
“I’m sure it is, but we don’t—” I start to say, but she cuts me off again.
“A thousand for both—the ring and the bracelet,” she offers. “Please.”
I bring my eyes back to hers and see her desperation. “I can’t take them both,” I say, and her face falls. “I’ll take the ring, but I insist you take fifteen hundred dollars,” I tell her.
“Deal!” she practically screams.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” I say.
I walk over to the desk, drop the ring into the top drawer, and grab my wallet. After retrieving the five hundred dollars I earned in tips from yesterday’s charter, I place it in an envelope. I then make my way to Mom’s office, where I open the safe. I count out one thousand dollars and add it to my cash. Finally, I return to the counter with a receipt book and begin to fill it out.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Tabitha Harmony,” she replies.
“Phone number?” I inquire.
“I don’t have one,” she responds.
I look at her, puzzled. “You don’t have a phone?”
She shakes her head. “Not one that I use anymore,” she says cryptically.
“O-okay,” I murmur. “Do you have an address?” I ask next.
“Why do you need that?” she questions.
I shrug. “Just in case we need to contact you about the ring.”
“I’m staying at The Sandspur Campground at The Point,” she tells me.
“I know that place. Are you here on vacation?”
“Just passing through,” she replies.
“That’s a shame,” I say quietly.
“Excuse me?”
I look back at her. “I said, that’s a shame.”
“What’s a shame?” she asks, looking confused.
“That you’re just passing through.”
She smiles shyly, and a blush creeps up her neck.
I tear off the receipt and place it inside the envelope with the money. Then, I write my name and phone number on the front before handing it to her. She takes it and glances at my name, and her eyes meet mine.
“Just in case you need to contact me,” I say.
She nods and replies, “Thank you, Anson Leggett,” before tucking the envelope into her bag and leaving the store.
I watch as she climbs onto a yellow bicycle and rides away down the road. I probably won’t see her again, but, damn, I really hope I do.
Mom returns an hour later. “I picked up lunch,” she says as she places a brown paper sack on the desk. “Tacos from The Salty Hammock.”
“My favorite,” I say as I dig in.
“How did things go while I was gone? Did you sell anything?” she asks, heading toward her office.
“A lady came in and bought one of the silver charm anklets,” I reply. “Oh, and I owe you a thousand dollars.”
“You what?” she exclaims.
“I owe you a thousand dollars. I needed to buy something that was fifteen hundred and didn’t have enough cash on me. I took it from the safe.”
“Anson Michael Leggett,” she shouts as she returns to the front of the shop.
“No need to pull out my full name, Mom. I’m going to walk over to the bank as soon as I finish this taco and get the cash,” I assure her.
“That’s not the point.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again, but it was for someone in need. They thought this was a pawnshop and just needed a little help,” I explain.
“You could have told them that we weren’t a pawnshop and sent them to one,” she points out.
“The closest one I could think of is in Wilmington, and she was on a bicycle.”
“She. How did I know it was a she?” she says.
“I barely noticed.”
“I doubt that. Fine. What did she have that conned you out of fifteen hundred dollars?”
“She said it was a ruby,” I say as I reach inside the drawer to retrieve the ring and hand it to her. “It’s probably not real.”
She blinks as she looks down at the exotic piece and sighs.
“It’s pretty, but it’s most likely synthetic or imitation, not a natural ruby,” she says as she takes it between her fingers and holds it up to the light. “Wait,” she says, then turns and goes to retrieve her loupe. She brings the magnifier to her right eye and turns the dial as she examines the stone. “Anson, I believe this is a Burmese ruby,” she says. “It has the distinct pigeon blood-red color and visible silk inclusions.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask.
She takes the loupe from her eye and glances back at me. “It’s a very good thing. It’s a high-quality stone that is very expensive. And this setting is stunning. She should have never sold it for that price.”
“She tried to sell it and a tennis bracelet for a thousand. I made her keep the bracelet and take the fifteen hundred,” I tell her.
“What do you plan to do with it?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Hold on to it for now, I guess.”
“You could sell it to me. I’ll give you five hundred, and we’ll call it even,” she offers.
I shake my head and laugh. “No way. Give me that,” I say as I walk over and snatch it from her. “I can’t believe my own mother is trying to hustle me.”
“Fine. You go on to the bank and come right back,” she huffs.
I kiss her on the cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”