the lid and revealed an engagement ring.
“Will this work?” he asked.
Catherine’s breath caught as she peered at what appeared to be an antique, which had been cleaned and polished. The diamond, while fairly small, glistened in the sunlight.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he said.
“It’s beautiful.” She doubted the ring was costly, but she imagined that the sentimental value was priceless. “I’ve never had an heirloom, so I’ll take good care of it.”
Then she removed the ring from the box and slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand, surprised that it actually fit.
For a moment, she wondered about the woman who’d worn it before her, about the relationship she’d had with her husband—and with her grandson. She suspected they’d been close.
When she looked at Ray, when their eyes met and their gazes locked, she asked, “What was her name?”
The question seemed to sideswipe him. “Who?”
“Your grandmother.”
He paused, as if the reminder had surprised him as much as the question had, then said, “Her name was Elena.”
Catherine lifted her hand and studied the setting a bit longer. It was an old-fashioned piece of jewelry, yet it had been polished to a pretty shine.
When she looked up again, he was watching her intently.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
He didn’t respond right away, and when she thought that he might not, he said, “I know that ring isn’t anything most people would consider impressive, but it meant a lot to my grandmother.”
Catherine’s mother had worn a single gold band, although she wasn’t sure it had meant much to her. And when she’d passed away, the family had buried her with it still on her finger. As far as Catherine knew, not one of her siblings had mentioned wanting to inherit it.
But Ray’s ring was different—special.
“It’s actually an honor to wear this.” She studied the setting a moment longer, then turned to Ray, whose gaze nearly set her heart on end.
So she repeated what she’d told him before, “I’ll take good care of it while it’s in my possession.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you can appreciate the sentiment attached to it. Not all women can.”
He’d mentioned being recently divorced, so she couldn’t help wondering if he was talking about his ex-wife.
Had she worn it? Had she given it back to him when they’d split?
Not that it mattered, she supposed.
“So,” he said, “are you ready to have lunch now?”
When she nodded, he took her hand and led her back to the diner, where they would begin their performance. They were a team, she supposed. Costars in a sense.
They also had something else in common—hearts on the mend.
Ray opened the glass door, allowing Catherine to enter first. While waiting for him to choose a table, she scanned the quaint interior of the small-town eatery, with its white café-style curtains on the front windows, as well as the yellow walls that were adorned by a trellis of daisies on the wallpaper border.
To the right of an old-fashioned cash register stood a refrigerated display case filled with pies and cakes—each one clearly homemade.
She glanced at a blackboard that advertised a full meal for only $7.99.
In bright yellow chalk, someone had written, What the Sheriff Ate, followed by, Chicken-Fried Steak, Buttered Green Beans, Mashed Potatoes, Country Gravy and Apple Pie.
The advertised special sounded delicious, but she’d have to watch what she ate today. When she’d gotten dressed back at the ranch, she’d struggled to zip her jeans and found them so snug in the waist that she’d been tempted to leave the top button undone or to wear something else.
If she didn’t start cutting out all the fat and the carbs she’d been consuming since arriving in Brighton Valley, she was going to return to New York twenty pounds heavier. And where would that leave her when it came time to audition for her next part?
Of course, after that stunt Erik Carmichael had pulled, she’d be lucky if other producers didn’t blackball her by association alone.
How could she have been so gullible, so blind? The one person she’d trusted completely had pulled the cashmere over her eyes. And while she feared that she’d been hard-pressed to trust another man again, it was her own gullibility that frightened her the most.
As Ray placed his hand on her lower back, claiming her in an intimate way, she shook off the bad memories and focused on the here and now.
“There’s a place for us to sit.” With his hand still warming her back, he ushered her to a table for two in the center of the restaurant, then pulled out her chair.
It was the perfect spot, she supposed. Everyone in the diner would see them together, which was what Ray had planned—and what he was paying for. So as soon as he’d taken the seat across from hers, she leaned forward, placed her hand over the top of his and put on her happiest smile. “I’ve missed you, Ray. It’s so good to be together again.”
His lips quirked into a crooked grin, and his green eyes sparked. “It’s been rough, hasn’t it?”
When she nodded, he tilted his hand to the side, wrapped his fingers around hers and gave them a gentle, affectionate squeeze. “I’m glad to have you with me for a change.”
Before Catherine could manage a response, a salt-and-pepper-haired waitress stopped by their table and smiled. “Hello, Mayor. Can I get you and your friend something to drink?”
“You sure can, Margie. I’d like a glass of iced tea.” Ray gave Catherine’s hand another little squeeze. “What would you like, honey?”
“Water will be fine.”
At the term of endearment, Margie’s head tilted to the side. Then her gaze zeroed in on their clasped hands. Instead of heading for the kitchen, she paused, her eyes widening and her lips parting.
“We’ll need a few minutes to look over the menu,” Ray told the stunned waitress.
Margie lingered a moment, as if she’d lost track of what she was doing. Then she addressed Catherine. “I haven’t seen you in town before. Are you new or just passing through?”
Catherine offered her a friendly smile. “I’m visiting for the next couple of weeks, but I’m not really passing through. I plan to move here before the end of summer.”
“Well, now. Isn’t that nice.” Margie shifted her weight to one hip, clearly intrigued by Catherine. “Where are you staying?”
“With me,”
