Chapter 2
At ten the next morning, I stood at the jewelry counter and removed my wedding ring from its plastic pouch.
The pale mark around my finger remained.
The clerk checked the appraisal Daniel had requested, then placed the ring on black velvet. Fifteen years earlier, Daniel had skipped lunch for three months to afford it.
“Nine thousand dollars,” she said. “We can also treat it as a pawn loan. You’d have thirty days to buy it back.”
Thirty days.
Maybe the company would recover by then. Maybe I could wear the ring again.
“What are the fees?”
She explained them, then added, “If you sell it outright, you’ll receive the full amount today.”
Daniel had said the company had seventy-two hours.
I checked my phone.
Daniel: Transfer the money to this account as soon as it clears. Finance is waiting.
A bank account number followed. No good morning. No question about whether I had changed my mind.
“I’ll sell it,” I said.
The clerk hesitated. “Once it’s sold, we can’t guarantee it’ll remain here.”
“I understand.”
She slid the paperwork toward me. My pen paused at the end of my signature.
Inside the band were our initials and wedding date.
When the clerk picked up the ring, my hand moved before I could stop it. I pulled it back and rested it against the counter.
The sale was final.
Twenty minutes later, nine thousand dollars reached my account.
I sat in the bank lobby and transferred it to Daniel’s emergency account, leaving myself a little over eleven hundred dollars.
I sent him the confirmation.
Seven minutes passed before he replied.
Daniel: Received.
Nothing else.
On the drive home, I kept my left hand inside my coat pocket.
Daniel wasn’t there. Last night’s anniversary dinner still covered the table. I had just started clearing it when a credit card alert appeared on my phone.
Bellman Jewelers — $8,600.
I turned off the faucet.
It was the same store where I had sold my ring that morning.
The charge had been made at 4:17 p.m. on a credit card in Daniel’s name—one we paid from our joint account.
He had told me every available dollar was already gone.
Daniel returned forty minutes later. I held out my phone.
“What is this?”
He glanced at the charge without surprise. “A gift for a client.”
“An eighty-six-hundred-dollar gift?”
“We promised it last year.”
“Which client?”
He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door. “Do I need to justify every business expense to you now?”
“I sold my wedding ring at that store this morning.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d connect two unrelated things.”
I followed him into the kitchen. “If the company can’t make payroll, why didn’t you cancel it?”
“Because that client may be the only one willing to keep working with us.” He opened the refrigerator, looked inside, then shut it. “Without him, your nine thousand won’t last a week.”
It sounded reasonable.
At least, it almost did.
“What did my money pay for?”
“Part of the materials bill.”
“Do you have a receipt?”
Daniel turned toward me. “Nora, I’ve spent all day begging people for help. You made one transfer, and now you’re interrogating me as if I caused this.”
For fifteen years, that tone had made me question myself. I nearly apologized.
Instead, Daniel pulled a set of keys from his briefcase and placed them on the counter.
“Pack some clothes. We’re moving tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Mark’s basement. He’ll let us stay there.”
“What happens to this house?”
“We rent it out. The rent covers the mortgage.”
“You never mentioned moving.”
“Last night, you could barely let go of the ring. How was I supposed to discuss the house?”
My fingers tightened around my phone.
“The rental agent is bringing people tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Don’t pack too much. The basement is small.”
“How long will we be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you moving too?”
His thumb stopped over his phone.
“I’ll be looking for investors. I may have to sleep at the office. You go first.”
His screen lit up.
I caught the beginning of a message.
The champagne arrived. Are you still coming tonight?
Daniel immediately locked the screen.
“Who sent that?” I asked.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and picked up the basement keys.
“A client who’s still willing to help us.”