burgeoning smile that made its way up her friend’s face was a little unsatisfying to Jessie.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” Piper replied, and she reached across the desk for Jessie’s hand. “Let me see the ring.”
“Well, I’m not wearing it,” she chastised.
“Why not?”
“Because. I didn’t say yes.” Jessie plopped her hands on the desktop and wiggled her ring-free fingers with a sigh. “You don’t wear the ring until you say yes.”
“What did you tell him?”
The unexpected pinch of revelation quirked Jessie’s brow, and she leaned back in her desk chair until it creaked. “Piper, you knew, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
She rocked forward and leaned both arms on the desk. “Piper Brunetti.”
Piper flicked a wisp of her short copper hair and darted her green gaze to the wall behind Jessie. “What?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “That ridiculous thing in the car about my not wanting to marry again, and you making me promise if he proposed today . . .” Laughing at the realization as it unfolded before her, she added, “That’s what you meant when we were leaving the courthouse. You told Danny, ‘Today, not tomorrow. Today.’ You really thought I’d say yes because of that dumb conversation we had?”
With a sly smile, Piper remarked, “You did promise, after all.”
“How long have you known?”
“He may have mentioned it to me.”
“When?”
“Over breakfast.”
“You had breakfast with Danny?” Jessie’s hand exploded at the side of her head. “Okay. Mind blown. Who initiated that?”
“He invited me.”
“What did he say? Tell me everything.”
Piper’s green eyes narrowed. “He was concerned about the ring.”
“What about the ring? It’s gorgeous.” Wonderings pinged from one side of her mind to the other. “He was concerned?”
“Jack gave you the Rock of Gibraltar, sweetie.”
“Ohh.”
Jessie looked down at her conspicuously ring-free finger as the apparitional image of her former Neil Lane extravaganza materialized in all its three-and-a-half-carat brilliance. She’d built an entire new life there in that store of hers, all of it based upon the curve of a platinum setting. But would she want to carry around that much weight on her finger now?
Not a chance.
“So he showed it to you?” she asked. “The ring?”
Piper nodded. “He did.”
She deflated into a giddy smile. “Stunning, right?”
Her friend leaned on the edge of the desk and broke into a toothy grin. “Amazing. Did he tell you the story about—”
The jingle of the front door opening interrupted Piper and sent a rush of warm adrenaline through Jessie that propelled her to her feet. “I didn’t know I’d missed that simple little bell so much.” She rounded the desk, grinning like a dope. “That will be Amber.”
Jessie rushed out of the office and into the store. She and Amber collided in a mutual gleeful embrace halfway across the floor, and a wave of Amber’s honey-blonde hair stuck to Jessie’s lip gloss as they did.
“I can’t believe we get to open this place again,” Amber said as they parted. “Hey there,” she added as Piper emerged from the office hallway. “The gang’s all here.”
Piper rubbed her hands together. “What do we do first?”
“I’ve got some inventory that came back from the dry cleaners the day we closed,” Amber announced. “I’ll get it catalogued and out on the floor.”
“Let’s grab some cleaning supplies,” Jessie suggested, and Piper nodded. “What’s your pleasure? Pledge or Windex?”
“Hmm,” she playfully considered with a full pout. “A little lemony freshness sounds just dandy.”
Jessie chuckled and headed back to the supply room for paper towels, rags, and cleaners.
Wiping away dust particles and streaks from the glass cases felt cathartic somehow for Jessie—like ridding herself of the final dregs of her nightmarish (so-called) marriage in order to clear the road ahead. The jewelry on display looked to her as if it had been cleaned as well just by the simple act of wiping the glass around it. When she finished the cases, Jessie smiled at Piper—meticulously polishing the shelves and cubbies—and moved to the front of the store to start in on the windows and door.
The fragrance of cleaning products tickled her nose and took her back to earlier days—happy ones in her grandfather’s house when her Saturday morning chores paved the way for an afternoon lounging on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain or in the woodworking shed out back. She loved those days—so simple and pure—at least until she got the notion in her head that an exciting and glamorous life beckoned from far beyond the confines of Slidell, Louisiana.
An invisible fist tightened around her heart at the thought of Grampy. She could hardly bear the thought of losing him, but the doctors had indicated she had no choice in the matter.
“Looks like I got cancer, baby girl,” he’d stated matter-of-factly, and the words left a sour taste in the hollow of her throat as she recalled that day out on the sunporch, the bitter scent of Grampy’s chicory coffee wafting up her nose.
“What?” she whimpered. Slipping her hand from Danny’s, she rushed to her grandfather’s chair, knelt in front of him, and took his hand inside both of hers just the way Danny had done. “Are you sure?”
“Yeh. It’s fer sure.”
“How bad is it?” she asked him.
“Purdy bad. By the time I figgered out somethin’ weren’t right, the catfish was nearly cooked in the skillet.”
Jessie set the towels and glass cleaner on the floor and marched across the store in search of her phone. Perching on the stool behind the counter, she pressed the speed dial that would bridge the large gap between Santa Monica and Slidell.
He answered on the first ring. “Grampy?” She imagined him sitting next to the phone, unable to be outside where he’d rather be, possibly weak or too tired to even watch television. “How are you feeling today?”
“Ah, Jessie-girl, I was just thinkin’ ’bout you. You get yer name back, didja?”
“I am officially Jessie Hart.”
“Not
