The Satin Sash

“Your wife’s?” she inquired.

He hesitated. “Her name is Antonia.” God, it was such a relief to tell somebody. Have someone to talk to about her.This little lady with the silvering hair and the crooked teeth was so sweet to ask.

“How long have you been married?” she asked, her wrinkled hands motionless on her lap.

“We’re not married.” He blinded her with a smile, a smile meant to make a woman even of her age blush. “Do you think she’d have me?” he baited.

He was so distracted watching the heat creep up her dainty neck that he didn’t notice they’d taxied until they took off. He cursed under his breath, tensing when the plane soared, the ground falling away beneath him.

His heart raced—not with dread this time, he realized, but with anticipation. The captain spoke, and when the speakers fell silent, Heath told the old lady, “So, was that a yes?”

She lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose and eyed him speculatively above the rims. “Yes.” She patted his cheek, her smile thin but honest. “You look vigorous.”

He propped his head back on the seat and gazed absently up at the head compartment. “I haven’t seen her in . . . well, hell, it’s almost three weeks.” He frowned. Only three weeks? It felt like forever.

“Three weeks is a long time. I’m going to see my grandsons, and I haven’t seen them in two years.”

Heath whistled through his teeth. “Two years? Really? Wow, that’s tough.”

She righted her glasses on her nose, her eyes lingering on the sash. “What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

Ahhh, that was easy. “Tie her to the bed with it and make her mine?”

Her eyes widened under her lenses, and he realized he shouldn’t have said that to a sweet old lady. So he smiled and did something unthinkable. He grabbed her hand, soft and wrinkled and looking like it would disintegrate in his, and said, “I’m going to tell her I love her.”

“Four-carat, E,VVS-one round brilliant.”

Inside a sumptuous jewelry store on Michigan Avenue, Grey grasped the tweezers being offered by the middle-aged jeweler and brought the loupe up to one eye. He gazed into the rock—a massive, blinding sparkler—and then looked up.“Am I supposed to see anything?”

“No, sir—it’s a VVS-one; it would be impossible to see the inclusions with a regular jeweler’s loupe.”

“Ahh.” Grey lowered the loupe and turned the tweezers around to glance at the diamond’s glinting tip. “It’s a bit too large for what I had in mind.”

“Nothing screams money like a big rock.”

“I don’t want it to scream money; I just want her to like it.”

“With a four-carat rock like that, the world will know your woman is loved by a rich, powerful man.”

Grey set it down on the black velvet-covered tray.“Is there something more subtle?”

The man tucked the stone back into a small, crinkling blue paper. “We could go to fancy. Colored diamonds are ap

preciated only by the finest connoisseurs.The ladies love the pink.”

Grey waited for the man to produce one.The bubble gum pink rock he revealed, although decently smaller than the last, struck him as perhaps a bit too girly for a woman. “She’s not that much of a pink lover,” he said pleasantly.

“Ahh, I have just the thing.” The jeweler fished into a discreet leather briefcase and presented another rock, one that was darker, brilliant. He secured it with the tweezers and handed it over. “We call it the Chameleon. Natural diamond. Will change color depending on the lighting.You’ll get colors ranging from the brightest green to a dark gray.”

“Gray?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A gray diamond. I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Usually, sir, one never hears of these things until one is wanting to marry.” The old man smiled placidly from where he stood behind the low display case. “I take it she’s your first?”

“My only.” Grey studied the rock.