took the key ring from the pocket of her blazer, unlocked the case and retrieved a black-velvet-lined tray from the bottom shelf. Loose stones of various cuts, sizes and colors glittered under the lights.
“Do you see anything here that catches your eye? Don’t worry about the cut or size. Anything you select I can cut and size to suit. We’re just picking out a gemstone right now.”
Tony settled on an aquamarine—Astrid’s birthstone—in a triangular-shaped or “trilliant” cut that would be set in platinum. He wanted no less than three carats for the stone. As for the rest of the design, including the kind of chain, he left that to Rachel. She was thinking of something that would pull in Astrid’s interest in astrology. She appreciated his trust in her artistic judgment. Some customers were so specific about what they wanted and they insisted on being so involved in the process that they left little room for creativity. In those cases, she was left to craft their vision. She much preferred conjuring up one of her own.
“When would you like to pick it up?” she asked as she wrote up the order.
“I will be in town for the next several weeks. Astrid will be in New York the last weekend in November for a magazine photo shoot. Would that be enough time?”
She did some quick calculations in her head. If the stone he wanted came in quickly from her supplier, it would be more than enough time. She had little else on her plate, professionally or personally.
“It shouldn’t be a problem. Shall we say the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, then?”
Tony nodded as he rose. “Perfect. I cannot wait to see what you create.”
The smile she gave him was fueled by genuine pleasure rather than mere politeness. Not only had designing jewelry paid her bills, during the past several months, it had saved her sanity.
She meant it when she said, “I’m very eager to get started.”
“Until I see you again, bella.”
“Yes. Until then.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE weather outside was every bit as bitter as it had been before Tony had ducked into Expressive Gems. He turned up the trench’s collar once again and tucked his hands into its lined pockets. As he made his way to the bakery, walking headlong into the wind, he started to whistle.
So, his favorite jewelry designer was single now.
He couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about that. Nor could he explain why he hadn’t mentioned to Rachel that the necklace he was having her make for Astrid was intended as a parting gift. He had ended things with the young model before returning to the States. The relationship had run its course.
Astrid was lovely, funny and far smarter than most people gave her credit for being, but they didn’t have much in common except time to kill between fashion events in various European cities. And even there they’d differed. Where Tony gravitated to the classics in art, music and clothing, Astrid followed the trends. She wanted to stay out late and kick up her heels in the exclusive nightclubs, whereas Tony had tired of life in that fast lane years ago. Did that make him too old? Or Astrid too young, he mused? Regardless, he had grown bored quickly.
Indeed, as time went on, his relationships were becoming shorter and shorter. In each of the last three, Tony had become restless after mere months.
And each ending brought him back to Rachel.
He stopped whistling as he waited for the light to change so he could cross the street. What was it about Rachel Palmer that captivated him so? Part of it, he supposed, was that she remained a puzzle. They’d known one another for five years, ever since he’d walked into her quaint little shop on a whim and had admired a necklace one of the clerks was wearing.
“This is Mrs. Palmer’s design.”
Mrs. Palmer. Tony had never been able to figure her out.
She was very different from the other women he knew, personally and professionally. For starters, she was all business all of the time. She never let her hair down, figuratively or otherwise. In truth, Tony had always felt a little intimidated by her. Today, however, he’d glimpsed a softer side, just a hint of vulnerability that left him intrigued. And there was the not-so-small matter that she was no longer a Mrs.
His stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over the howl of the wind. Glancing up, he realized the light had changed back to red while he’d stood there ruminating over Rachel. Pazzesco! Crazy. After a shake of his head, Tony didn’t bother waiting for the Walk sign to appear a second time. He crossed against the light, keeping an eye on the cars. There weren’t that many. It was nearly nine o’clock and the traffic along Main Street was sparse. School was in session and most commuters were at work, starting their day. Meanwhile, he was on vacation.
Between writing a dozen features and putting out fires at the various publications under his control, he had earned a break, a long one, although he would make do with a week of being incommunicado before he checked in via phone at his New York offices. He preferred Rochester Hills to the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. His mother and stepfather lived close by, as did his sister, Ava, her husband, Bill, and their two adorable daughters. He might not be interested in getting married and settling down, but he enjoyed being surrounded by family. When he was away for too long, he even missed his mother’s good-natured nagging.
Besides, he didn’t need to spend all of his time in Manhattan. The internet made it easy to stay in touch with the staff of his three magazines. Of course, the internet wasn’t just changing his job, it was changing the way the publishing world operated.
The advent of the digital age and widespread access to the internet meant more and more of the people who subscribed to his magazines wanted the convenience of downloading content to the electronic device of their choosing. But others still preferred to receive magazines in the mail each month or pick them up at the newsstand, flipping through the glossy pages at their leisure.
Advertisers, meanwhile, simply wanted to reach their targeted demographic in the most cost-effective way possible. Tony’s job was to keep them all happy while ensuring that the quality of his product never suffered.
Some people, most people, thought he had nothing to lose. Despite his success, they viewed his career as a mere hobby, a rich man dabbling in the publishing world to fill his time and stave off boredom. It was true that the magazines could fold and the greatest casualty for him personally would be his pride. He would get along fine on the trust fund left to him by his late father. But several hundred people worked for him in various capacities in various cities around the globe. They relied on the incomes they earned to raise their children and keep roofs over their heads. So while he believed in enjoying life and indulging his whims, he took his responsibilities as the head of the Fortuna Publishing Group very seriously.
His cell phone trilled just as he reached the bakery. Despite the inclement weather, he opted to take the call outside rather than disturb the customers who were enjoying coffee and pastries at a smattering of tables inside.
“Pronto.”
“You are home?” It was his mother. There was no mistaking Lucia’s voice or the worry in her tone.
“I am. I arrived late last night. I did not want to wake you,” he added, knowing she would chide him for not calling.
She
