by Ella Goode
Contents
Summary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
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Wall Street banker Major Bennington believes he can buy anything. When his mother mentions wanting a necklace crafted by an up and coming artisan named Maple London, he’s certain that all he needs to do is show up and write a check.
But Maple has other ideas. She doesn’t sell her jewelry to just anyone. The pieces she makes are for those who not only appreciate art but are good people. One look at Major and Maple knows he’s bad news.
Once Major meets Maple, he forgets about the necklace. The only thing he wants to acquire is Maple because he knows she’s priceless.
Chapter 1
Major
“How many people are in line?” My sister Julia chirps into the phone.
I take a sip of my coffee as I approach the small building on the corner of a bland gentrified neighborhood in Park Slope. The line stretches down one city block and around the corner. I have no intention of walking down to the end to see how long it is so I give my sister a vague estimate. “Enough.”
“That’s not very detailed,” she complains.
“It’s long,” I say, “but we’re in front. Isn’t that what matters?”
“I guess. Are you wearing the clothes I sent over?”
I look down at the shapeless cotton pants, the goofy pastel tie-dyed shirt and the cream-colored cardigan that Julia said was knitted out of virgin wool. I don’t know if that meant the sheep hadn’t had sex before or no one at the sweater factory nutted on the yarn. Hopefully it’s the latter for every reason one can think of and a few that haven’t been conjured yet. “Yeah.”
“Good. You’re not wearing one of your Audemars Piaget watches, are you?”
I glance down at my bare left wrist. “Nope. Per your instructions, I left all expensive shit at home. I do have my wedding band on.” Not that it did me much good. The barista scribbled her phone number on my coffee sleeve.
“I can’t believe you still wear that thing. I told you that women aren’t going to stop hitting on you just because you pretend to be married.”
“It works most of the time,” I protest.
“Most of time? How many numbers did you get this morning?” Julia asks with disgust, hopefully directed at her own gender and not toward me.
“Only the one.”
“God, my sex is an embarrassment,” she moans. “Anyway, back to the important topic of the day. Other than the fake wedding ring, you’ve got no jewelry on. You’ve been in line since four in the morning. You’re wearing sustainable clothing and, wait, please tell me you aren’t wearing the cologne Mom gave you.”
Guiltily, I slap a hand across my neck. “Why would that matter?”
“Oh my God!” she wails. “You are. You’re going to ruin the whole thing. I told you that Maple London doesn’t approve of non-natural substances, which is why I sent you the clothes!”
“I thought you sent me these clothes because you were mad at me. They’re ugly as hell. Hold on for a minute, Julia.” I tuck the phone into the crook of my neck and pull out my wallet. “Hey, man, thanks for holding the line for me.” I hand ten fresh bills to the kid I paid to camp out last night. He counts them out carefully, like he’s some teller at a bank. “It’s all there,” I say.
“Did you just pay someone to stand in line for you?” Julia yells. “How could you do that?”
“Easy,” I answer. “You read the want ads, find someone who is young and in need of cash and then you pay them to do things that you don’t want to.”
“Whatchu standing in line for anyway? Sneaks?”
“Sneaks?” I ask the younger man.
“Sneakers. Shoes.” He lifts his foot and points to it for emphasis.
“People stand in line for shoes?” I ask.
The kid, who can’t be more than nineteen based on the pimples and baby fat on his cheeks, gives me a look like I’m dumber than the worms on the sidewalk that crawl out of the dirt after a rain only to get run over by a cyclist. “Duh. Yeah. So is it phones?”
“Is what phones?”
“He’s asking if you’re standing in line for a phone. I cannot believe you paid someone to stand in line for you.”
“I have money. This kid needed it. We worked out a deal. Why is this such a big thing?” I realize the kid’s still standing there. “It’s not phones,” I tell him.
“What is it then?”
“A necklace.”
“You’re standing in line for a necklace?” He’s dumbfounded.
“I’m as baffled as you are, kid, but my sister tells me that this necklace is better than all six stones on Thanos’ gauntlet.”
“I never said that,” yells Julia.
I hold the phone away from my ear. “Got any sisters, kid?”
He shakes his head no.
“You are so lucky,” I tell him. “Go on now. I don’t need your help any longer.”
“I can hear everything you’re saying,” my sister seethes.
“What does it matter I paid for someone to stand in line?” I watch as the kid takes off, wishing I was going with him.
“Because she could see it.”
“She as in the jewelry maker?”
“She’s not a jewelry maker. She’s an artist and yeah, that is who I’m talking about.”
“You do realize that I could buy a necklace at Cartier or Winston’s on Fifth that is worth way more than anything this person is selling.”
“The jewelry Maple London creates can’t be bought on the secondary market. The rule is if you tire of it, you either give it away or you return it to her for a full refund.”
“That’s ridiculous, you know. How does she make any money?” The pieces aren’t even that expensive from what Julia said. I didn’t even have to go to the bank and get a cashier’s check or bring my black credit card.
“Because it’s not about money for her, Major. It’s about finding the right home for her creations. If she or one of her staff don’t think that you’re the right type of person to own her jewelry, they’re going to turn you away. They’ve done it before, which is why I sent you the clothes. She believes in creating the smallest ecological footprint possible. All her jewelry is made out of reclaimed materials. If you look around you, no one is going to be dressed like they’re a banker on Wall Street.”
“But I am a banker on Wall Street,” I point out. “And a successful enough one that I shouldn’t have to stand in line.”
“I wish you could hear how arrogant you sound. ” She heaves a frustrated sigh. “I would’ve gone myself if it wasn’t for this dang leg!” I can hear her thumping her fist against the cast.
“All right, Julia. I’ll get you the necklace.” I’m concerned she’s going to hurt herself again if she doesn’t settle down. “How hard can it be?”
Chapter 2
Maple
“What do you think?” I hold up the ring that I’ve been working on for the last two days. It’s going to set me back on my schedule but something this special took time to make. I don’t make wedding rings for just anyone. I had to meet the couple and get a good feel for them before agreeing to make one for them. I’ve only ever agreed to make a
few. Sure, I make rings all the time but not many that are meant for marriage unless I believed the couple that exchanged them will wear them for eternity. I made the pieces based on the couple so if they didn’t work out, the piece became worthless.
“Maple,” Gavin says as he takes the ring from me. He is my right-hand man. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also my brother and one of the best litigation attorneys in the city. He’s the closest person to me in my life. He’s not only my brother but my best friend. We’ve been this way since we were kids. He’s always looked out for me and vice versa. We are complete opposites, which makes life interesting. If it was up to him when I’d first started crafting jewelry he would’ve had me cranking it out, piece after piece. He said my talent was too great to only be experienced by a limited amount of customers. Plus he had wanted me to be successful more than anything. He knew this was my dream.
He couldn’t help it that he was a shark, looking for highest bidder most times. I needed him to be that way because I was the exact opposite. Creating pieces that people fall in love with has always been my goal. The money is nice but seeing a piece I created go to a person who will treasure it, while still making a living, is why I do this. Gavin is a shark to most other people but inside I know he is all marshmallow. He keeps me in line from time to time. I’m known to get lost in my work, which doesn’t leave much time for a social life. Gavin makes sure everything runs the way it’s supposed to. I don’t worry about anything else but creating. Staffing, store front and everything in between is left up to him.
I smile up at him as he stares at the ring. “You really do have a gift. You know that.”
I don’t deny it. I know I’m good at what I do. It’s what I was meant to do. It’s a rare thing to make a career out of doing something you love. It’s a blessing I’d never take for granted. My art was a gift that our grandmother gave me. I can still remember the feeling of her hands upon mine, teaching me how to create. Her only request was that I make everything with a positive emotion. If I felt negative that day or toward the person I was creating for, she said I shouldn’t continue working on the piece. That it would never turn out the way it was meant to be if it wasn’t formed with love. I miss her every day but often think of her while I create. She was always a positive light in my and Gavin’s lives.
“When are you going to ask him?” Gavin and his boyfriend have been dating for three months. I know that doesn’t sound long but for Gavin it is a world record. I never thought I’d see the day he’d fall in love but, like everything with my brother, when he went for something he went all in. I am surprised he waited this long to pop the question. I started creating the ring for Levi before Gavin had even asked me officially. I could feel the love between them. Anyone that spent time with them would never question their love and loyalty to one another. It is a piece that I was honored to create. The love between them is something that I can only hope to have one day. It doesn’t seem to be in my cards right now, but maybe someday.
He closes his hand around the ring and I know he’s dying to ask Levi right this second. Levi is currently on a photoshoot and won’t be back until tomorrow. Gavin’s soon-to-be fiancé is an artist himself. I knew he and Gavin were meant to be the day Gavin introduced me to him. He showed me a picture he’d taken of my brother and in it he’d somehow captured the real Gavin. Not the man who wears a suit like a shield, but the Gavin that only a few of us get to see. The one that is kind, considerate and loyal.
“I have a night planned for us.” His lips twitch into a smile. I wrap my hand around the one that he’s holding the ring I created in.
“I would like to create yours as well. Let that be my wedding gift to you.” I get a little emotional knowing that it will be the greatest piece I've ever created. Knowing that all the love I have for my brother will pour into the piece as I create it. He simply nods his head in true Gavin fashion. I change the subject quickly.
“I can’t even imagine.” I’m sure he’s come up with something over the top. We both know Levi would be fine with something simple but this is Gavin’s way of showing he cares, so Levi will go along with it. I’ve learned to do the same. There really is no fighting with him or staying mad at him. He is quick to admit when he’s done something wrong and will drive you bonkers until you forgive him. I think it’s why he lets so few people get close to him. At the core he’s tender. That hard exterior is there to protect that heart of his and I know Levi will never do anything to hurt it. It’s why I didn't stop until the ring was perfect. Gavin might be giving the ring to Levi but it is my thank-you to him for being the man I know he’ll be for my brother.
“It’s almost go time,” Gavin says, causing me to get up. I hug him for good measure while walking by him. His arm wraps around me. “The ring is stunning. It’s perfect just like I knew it would be.” He releases me with a kiss on the cheek and heads out the backdoor of the store. I swallow down the lump of emotion and continue toward the glass showcases at the storefront when I hear a little bit of commotion. I stop, peeking around to see my assistant Trudy going off on a very handsome man who is wearing a godawful sweater. I turn, going back to my studio. I want no part of that. Trudy can handle herself. I know there is work to be done and I’m behind. I also know ugly sweater man isn’t going to get any of the pieces that I make. He can dress himself up but I know his type. He wouldn’t appreciate anything that I created. He only wants what he can’t have. I just don’t realize that is going to be me.
Chapter 3
Major
“What do you mean I can’t buy it?” I stare in confusion at the sales clerk with hair so red it could’ve only come out of a bottle. All natural my fucking ass.
“This item isn’t for sale at the moment.” Her lips, as scarlet as her hair, are pressed into a thin line.
“Not to be crude, ma’am, but that’s bullshit. You took it out for the lady over there.” A woman about the age of my mother is relaxing in a nearby sitting area. She passed on the necklace and instead went with a bracelet which is in the process of being wrapped.
“It’s not for sale,” the clerk insists.
I remind myself that this is for my own mother and it’s because I love her that I’m standing in this tiny store that has a shopping space only big enough to host three people at a time wearing the ugliest clothes known to man with ten grand burning a hole in my pants pocket. Clearly facts aren’t going to work with this clerk. I let the smile curve across my mouth—the one that my sister says is rude, the one that my last secretary told me she dreamt about, the one that my mother described as the devil’s delight.
“Trudy, right?” That’s what the old lady called her. Trudy hesitates and then nods. “I hear you. This isn’t for sale.” She nods again. We’ve come to a consensus. We’re on the same wavelength. I broaden my smile. Trudy’s stern expression softens. I lean in. “What is for sale?”
Trudy tugs at her collar. “The thing is that this store is about love. We design things for people in love.”
The light bulb turns on. Trudy wants to hear a romance story. I lift up my hand and point to the wedding ring that my sister was mocking earlier. “Which is why I’m here. My sister told me about this place and how everything here is made from the heart. I want to give this to my wife as a token of how much I adore her and worship the very ground her tiny feet walk on.” The saccharine words almost make me want to vomit, but Trudy seems to like it. Her dour look is growing sweeter by the second.
She reaches below the counter and lays a couple of breathtakingly beautiful pieces on the velvet mat. Julia is right. Mom will love this. “The necklace didn’t feel right for you but maybe we have something else. What’s your wife’s name?”
My brain goes blank. No one ever asks me her name. They ask me my name. They ask me how big my bank account is. They ask me my dick size but no woman has ever asked about my wife’s name. I draw a hand over my jaw. “Her name. Right. Sadie. Sadie Jones.”
Trudy’s eyes narrow. “You h
esitated. When I asked for your wife’s name, you didn’t answer right away.” She whisks the jewelry away. “You can go now. There’s nothing here for you.” She directs a look over my shoulder. “George, this man is done.”
A hulking bodyguard ambles over to me. He’s got about thirty pounds on me but I could probably take him. I have my sweater sleeve shoved halfway up my left forearm before common sense sets in. I’m in the middle of Brooklyn in a jewelry store. I don’t need to get in a fight here. I’m Major Bennington. I flick down the sweater, nod my head at the bodyguard and turn back to Trudy.
“Where’s the owner?”
“T-T-he owner?” Trudy stutters.
“Yeah. The woman who makes this shit?”
There’s a chorus of outraged gasps. “Did you just call Maple London’s work shit?” Trudy cries. “This is art. Maple’s work is art.”
God save me from artistic types. I swear to God, they’re as temperamental as horses and not even close to being as useful. There’s a velvet curtained doorway just behind Trudy and to the right. Above it a discreet red light flashes, indicating a security camera. I brush by the lady in the chair, stride past a shocked Trudy who is yelling, “Sir, sir” and the bodyguard who is hurrying to catch me. I give him a stiff arm that sends him reeling backward into the curtain while I keep going forward until a vision, a literal fucking vision, stops me in my tracks.
“What are you doing?” snaps the beauty in front of me.
“Falling in love,” I grin, giving her the full wattage.
