chapter 20

“So, how was the weekend?” Lila returned to the Naked Finger on Monday morning wearing a wine-colored leather blazer adorned with silver studs.

“Very productive.” Brighton sat down with her sketch pad and an old pair of chunky turquoise earrings that badly needed updating. “I love that jacket.”

“Thanks. My mom picked it out for me in Paris.”

“Cool mom.”

“Yeah, she’s much cooler than me. She’s pretty much cooler than everyone in Black Dog Bay, which is why she ran off to Paris.” Lila smiled. “Speaking of which, how did everything go with the gown she sent you? Were you the belle of the ball?”

“Mm-hmm.” Brighton nodded and kept her head down.

“I’m waiting for details,” Lila prompted.

“Let’s just say that there’s never a dull moment when you’re married to Jake Sorensen.” Brighton handed her preliminary sketch to Lila. “What do you think of this type of setting for the turquoise? In yellow gold?”

“You’re so good at this.” Lila looked at the drawing. “Admit it: This is your calling.”

Brighton thought of her mother. “I don’t have a ‘calling.’ Which is why I don’t have bill collectors calling.”

“Ice-cold,” Lila accused.

“But financially solvent,” Brighton finished. “The only reason I can hang out here wasting the rest of the month is the fact that I can afford to pay my mortgage even if I take a few weeks off from my soulless corporate job.”

“Oh, so now you’re staying through the end of the month?”

“Um. It’s possible.”

“I had a feeling Jake would persuade you. He’s hard to say no to.” Lila ended this statement on upward inflection, inviting Brighton to provide details.

“Yes, he is. And he . . .” Brighton smiled as she thought about Rorschach. “He has sides to him that I didn’t expect.”

While Lila waited for Brighton to divulge more details, she thumbed through the handwritten receipts. “Wow, you sold the rose gold Rolex?” She kept reading, her eyes widening. “And the diamond rivière necklace? And that pair of diamond studs?”

“Don’t forget the sapphire studs. They basically sold themselves. All I did was nod and take the money. You know what I’ve learned after one week in the jewelry business?”

Lila was still poring over the receipts. “What?”

“People are weird. Relationships are weird. And that guy who quote-unquote ‘lost’ his wedding band and wanted a replacement made on the sly?”

“Yeah?”

“Tip of the iceberg.” Brighton flipped to a new page of her sketch pad and started doodling. “People do horrible things to their partners all the time, apparently. People are cheaters and liars and gold diggers.”

“Some people,” Lila corrected. “Not all.”

As if on cue, a starry-eyed couple walked in, no older than twenty-two and all over each other.

“Hi.” Lila smiled. “May I help you?”

“We’re looking for an engagement ring,” the young man proclaimed. “The best diamond you have.”

“The best diamond under five hundred dollars,” the young woman stipulated. “We’re kind of on a budget.”

“Eight hundred,” the man countered. “You can upgrade later. As soon as I start making real money.”

“Baby, this is the ring you proposed with. I’m never going to change it.”

Brighton and Lila absolutely melted, exchanging a flurry of glances as they led the lovebirds over to the ring display.

“They’re like the cutest kitten video on all of YouTube,” Lila whispered to Brighton. To the clients, she said, “What kind of design were you thinking about? We have lots of different settings and stones.”

“I’d be happy to custom design something for you,” Brighton offered, even though there was no way an eight-hundred-dollar budget would cover those services. She kept forgetting that she got paid to do this—for now, anyway.

“I don’t need anything fancy.” The young woman, clad in a threadbare concert T-shirt and jeans, gazed down at the sparkling diamonds. “A simple gold band is fine.”

“No way.” Her scruffy-haired suitor shook his head and addressed Lila directly. “She needs a diamond.”

Lila and Brighton offered up several options, and the young woman selected a thin white gold band featuring a tiny embedded diamond—more of a chip than a stone.

“Perfect fit.” She held up her hand. The diamond glinted under the bright overhead lights. “Like it was made for me.”

“It’s beautiful on you,” Brighton said, and she meant it. The young woman’s style was minimalist and casual, and the ring complemented her slim hand.

The woman turned to her fiancé, her eyes sparkling like the diamond on her hand. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you more.” He kissed her on the lips.

“No, I love you more.”

This escalated into a full PDA situation, during which Lila and Brighton discreetly excused themselves to the other side of the showroom.

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Lila looked away as the guy picked up his bride-to-be and sat her on the glass counter. “We have Windex in the back, right?”

“Full bottle,” Brighton confirmed. When the couple came up for air, she cleared her throat and suggested, “Would you like me to engrave something on the inside of the ring?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. You’re the only ones who’ll know it’s there.”

The guy looked at the girl. “‘At first sight.’”

Lila, Brighton, and the bride-to-be all awwed in unison, which sparked another intense make-out session, during which Lila and Brighton discussed lunch plans and the latest fashion trends coming out of Paris and New York. As the topic turned to TV series worthy of binge watching, the happy couple finally disentangled themselves, straightened their shirts, and handed over a wad of crumpled fifty-dollar bills.

“We’ll come back later for the engraving,” the young woman said. “I want to wear this right now.” Another passionate kiss. “I’m going to wear it when I sleep, when I shower, at the gym . . .”

“You can bring it in anytime for a cleaning,” Lila offered. “We have a special machine.”

“It’s real now.” The woman splayed out her fingers, admiring her bejeweled hand. “It’s really real.”

“We’re official,” her intended agreed. They strolled back out to the sidewalk, their hands in each other’s back pockets.

“There you go.” Lila closed the door with a flourish. “The living, breathing cure for cynicism.”

Brighton peered out the window, watching the couple walk toward the beach. “The two of them against the world.” She sighed. “I hope she’s still wearing that ring at their fiftieth anniversary.”

Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to believe in love at first sight. Maybe passion really could prevail over practicality. Maybe she should leave work early, track down her husband, and take a few laps around the hallways on the skateboard.

And that’s just what she did.

When she pulled her safety-conscious white Subaru into the driveway, she noticed a sleek silver roadster parked in her usual spot. At first she assumed it was Jake’s—he probably had a different car in each bay of the garage next to the house. Then she noticed someone standing on the porch and realized they had company.

For a moment, she feared Colin had returned for another round of begging, pleading, and hem hugging. But no—this visitor was petite. A gorgeous, fine-boned blonde turned as Brighton bounded up the porch steps.

“Hi.” Brighton stopped at the top step and waited for the woman to introduce herself. There was something familiar about her, but Brighton couldn’t quite place her.

“Hello, Brighton.” The woman looked her over for a moment, registered the conservative clothes and sensible footwear, then glanced away.

I’ve just been dismissed, Brighton realized. A month ago, she would have let that go. She would have stepped back and made her peace with the fact that some people—especially people who’d been genetically blessed to an almost freakish degree—weren’t going to deem her glamorous or beautiful enough to talk to.

But a lot had changed in the last few weeks.

“What can I do for you?” She rested her hand on the railing, making no move to invite the stranger inside.

The blonde’s smile was a bit apologetic. “I’m Genevieve.”

Brighton sucked in her breath. “Genevieve?”

“Yes.”

“Colin’s Genevieve?”

The woman blinked, obviously confused. “Who’s Colin?”

Brighton pushed her hair back, more confused than ever. “Um . . .”

“I’m Jake’s Genevieve. Would you kindly let him know I’m here?”