Page 23 of The Homewreckers
“Could you please shut up? I’m trying to do something here.” Then he reached in the pocket of his jeans and handed her the velvet box.
She’d gasped when she saw the ring. Her hand was shaking uncontrollably when he took the ring from the box and slid it onto her left hand. “Well?”
“Is it real?” Hattie had never seen anything more beautiful. The sapphires were bluer than Hank Kavanaugh’s eyes, which were very, very blue. And the diamond was the biggest she’d ever seen.
“Hell yes, it’s real. Do you think I’d give you a fake ring?” He’d pretended to be hurt.
Hattie had thrown her arms around his neck and blubbered out a string of insane sentences. “Oh my God! Hank, it’s amazing. Where did you get this? Can we afford it? So, what? We’re getting married?”
They’d stayed on the beach, laughing, drinking wine, and kissing and talking and doing other things that, although not specifically forbidden by city ordinance, probably would have been frowned upon by the local authorities.
She was thinking about that night now, standing at the counter at Heritage Jewelers, while Davis Hoffman patiently waited for the answer to his question.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “That would be a huge help.” She touched the ring box. “And… you won’t sell it? Because I’m going to pay you back, Davis. I swear, I’ll pay you back.”
“I won’t sell it,” he promised. “Stay right here while I get the paperwork squared away.”
He left the ring box on the countertop and walked to the back of the store. She touched the ring, then closed the lid of the box.
Five minutes later, Davis was back. He handed her a printed-out form and a pen. “That’s a detailed description of your ring, and my appraisal of its worth. I’m a certified gemologist in case you’re wondering. And there are the terms of our arrangement.”
Hattie looked up. “I trust you, Davis.” She scribbled her name on the line at the bottom of the document and handed it across the counter to him. He took the bottom copy of the document, folded it, and placed it in an envelope. “Your check is in here,” he said.
“So that’s it? We’re good?”
“We’re good. I’ll put the ring in our safe. What else are you up to these days?” he asked casually. “Have you dated any, since… Hank?”
“Not much. I, um, was sorry to hear about you and Elise.”
He shrugged. “Not as sorry as my mother. I think Elise got custody of her in the divorce.”
Hattie laughed. “I hope they’ll be very happy together.”
“Doubtful. Unfortunately, I don’t think Elise is capable of happiness. Come to think of it, neither is my mom.”
“You’ve got a daughter, right?”
His long, serious face brightened. “Ally. She’s four, going on forty.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolled through the camera roll, and held the phone out for Hattie to see.
The little girl was seated in an office chair, holding a kitten in her lap. She had dark blond hair and huge dark eyes.
“Adorable,” Hattie said. “Do you get to see her much?”
“You just missed her. She loves ‘helping’ play store here.”
“Lucky you.” Hattie took the envelope and tucked it in her pocketbook. She held out her hand, and he took it, closing it between both of his.
“Davis… I…” She bit her lip. “Anyway, thank you.”
“Glad I could help out.” He released her hand. “And if you ever want to grab a bite of dinner, or have a drink? I’m your guy. Totally.”
“Okay,” she said.
Davis plucked a business card from an ornate gold container on the display counter and scribbled on the back of it. “Here’s my cell. Give me a call. Let me know if you get the house.”
11Daddy’s Girl
She felt her jaw muscles clenching as she pulled off the paved highway and onto the bumpy dirt road that led to her father’s place. Sensing her anxiety, Ribsy, who’d been happily riding shotgun with his head sticking out the passenger window, stretched across the bench seat and placed his muzzle in her lap.
