Samuel waited for the light to change and strode across Fifth Avenue at Fifty-seventh Street. He was very concerned about Eliza. That nut at the zoo, all the threatening calls, the gift of lingerie, the burglary at her home. Samuel was on a mission to make her feel better and, in the process, to ingratiate himself as well.
He entered the cavernous street-level floor of Tiffany’s and perused the dazzling display cases, spending a good deal of time looking at the rings. The diamonds, sparkling in their near-perfection, were cut in all carat weights and shapes. Solitaire, marquise, emerald, pear, oval, even heart-shaped. Samuel spotted a large emerald-cut white diamond beautifully set in platinum. If it came to it, as Samuel hoped it might, that ring would be perfect for Eliza.
Samuel spent another forty-five minutes in the jewelry store, looking for an appropriate gift among the treasures. Finally he found it. Eighteen-karat-gold-and-diamond earrings, designed by Elsa Peretti in the shape of starfish.
Perfect. They would remind Eliza of the sea, their shared love.
“Samuel! I was going to call you.”
“That’s certainly good to hear.”.
“You might not think so when I tell you why.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to be working on a piece about . . .” Eliza tried to find the right words and then decided it was best to be direct. “Well, it’s a piece about parents who have lost a child. I was wondering if you could help me out with it.”
Samuel didn’t know what to say.
“I know I’m putting you on the spot, Samuel,” Eliza apologized.
“Gee, Eliza, of course I’d want to help you in any way I could. What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked cautiously.
“Well, we’re calling Sloan-Kettering to see if we can get permission to shoot in their pediatric unit, and we’re trying to find some parents who are going through the painful process with their children right now. But I was thinking you might be willing to be interviewed from the other side of the loss.”
“It’s awfully fresh, Eliza.”
“I know it is, Samuel. But that’s one of the reasons why what you would have to say would be so strong.”
Eliza heard a long silence on the other end of the phone.
“Samuel?”
“I’m here, Eliza,” he answered wearily. “Can I think about it and give you my answer a little later?”
“Of course.”
“Are we still on for Saturday night?”
“We are if you don’t mind going out to New Jersey again. I’m going to have Mrs. Garcia come and stay with Janie and I’ll make a reservation at this restaurant I’ve been hearing such great things about. It’s called Esty Street.”