Speak Now

by Chautona Havig

  “We can go back and ask…”

  “No, I’m being paranoid. I was mugged once coming out of a jewelry store, so I tend to be a bit ridiculous. We’re far enough away and no one is following us.”

  “And you’d know this how?”

  He shrugged and turned into the garage, punching the up button on the elevator. “I’ve gotten cautious as well.”

  By now, Cara’s former notions had returned unbidden. She didn’t want to know what he was doing if it was supposed to be a surprise, but not asking would be ridiculous. He knew she knew he purchased something, and taking her with him to the other jeweler’s meant he didn’t intend to hide it from her. She needed to get a grip and ask.

  “So what’d you buy and why are you having it reset?”

  “Oh, man,” Jonathan began, coming alive in a way she’d never imagined. For a man who spoke little—though often said much without words—he had no hesitation on this topic. “I was glancing at what they had. Honestly, I didn’t expect to see much. And there it was—this amazing ring with three of the best looking diamonds I’ve seen in a long time. They’re gorgeous! I hate the setting, but I want those stones, so I’m having it reset.”

  “Why?”

  Jonathan, in the throes of a new acquisition, didn’t seem to notice Cara’s confusion. He had obviously never considered that shopping in a jewelry store with a woman you’ve shown blatant interest in might possibly be construed as anything but normal. The fact that he bought a large and expensive diamond ring while shopping with said woman didn’t register a need to explain his purpose in purchasing.

  “It’s a good investment. Those stones in the right setting will be worth double or triple what I paid. As it is, I think the stones alone are worth more than I paid. Hadley will tell me though.”

  They drove in their customary silence, Cara in thought about what he could possibly mean. Traffic clogged the streets, making a ten-minute drive take nearly twice that long, but Jonathan acted as if he didn’t notice. Cara watched stores, businesses, and even a small residential area crawl by as she sat gazing out the window lost in thought.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can just run it in if you’d rather—”

  “I want to see what you’re doing, if it’s okay. Sounds fascinating.”

  They strolled into The Vault and waited in a showroom for someone to greet them. Now Cara understood Jonathan’s disdain for a place like Memories. They’d entered a place quite unlike the average jewelry store—forget that, unlike the average upscale jewelry store. No one in her family would ever enter this kind of place, and the woman who strolled toward them had a look on her face that offered proof of exactly why.

  “May we help you?” Her expression clearly added, “Out the door.”

  “Would you please tell Hadley that Jonathan Lyman is here to see him?”

  “I’m afraid he doesn’t accept visitors without an appointment.” Again, the woman’s face distinctly insisted that they didn’t belong there, and she wanted them gone.

  “He’ll accept me.” Cara’s jaw nearly dropped at the cool way Jonathan dismissed the woman’s snobbery with a clear air of superiority.

  “Just a moment. Perhaps my manager can explain.”

  She disappeared once more, leaving Cara flushed with embarrassment and anger. “Come on, Jonathan, let’s go. This is mortifying.”

  “I’m not leaving now, but if you’re uncomfortable, perhaps Starbucks on the corner…”

  Before she could reply, a man wearing a battered golfer’s cap, a shirt with sleeves rolled above the elbows, baggy slacks held up by suspenders, covered by an apron hurried through the door. “Jonathan! I overheard Celine talking to Mark. He’ll take care of her—”

  “I hope so. She was incredibly rude and made my friend feel very unwelcome.”

  “Mark’ll handle it. Come in, I want to see what you’ve brought me.”

  Taking Cara’s arm, Jonathan gently steered her behind the door and into Hadley’s office. Cara wanted to sink into the floor at the poisonous look the saleswoman threw her through the glass walls of Mark’s office. “Now how’d you know I had something for you?”

  “Do you ever stop by to chat about the Warriors or your golf score?”

  “Oh, you wound me, Hadley.” To Cara, he smiled and asked for the box. “I went in to Memories in the Row to pick up a prize and found this.” He pushed the box across the table and waited.

  “Nice packaging.”

  “It’s actually a nicer store than I’d anticipated. A lot of run-of-the-mill junk, a few good pieces, and then that.”

  As Hadley pulled the ring from the box, the man nodded eagerly. “I see what you mean. May I ask—”

  “Eight.”

  Cara asked to see the ring. She’d given up trying to understand his errand and chose just to go along for the ride. However, she hadn’t expected the ring to be as truly ugly as it was. Jonathan laughed at the way she tried not to comment on it.

  “It’s okay, Cara. I don’t like it either.”

  “It’s truly hideous! You paid eight hundred for that?”

  “Thousand, Cara—and I feel like I robbed them.”

  “You did. As is, I wouldn’t have sold it for less than ten in another store—twelve here,” Hadley interjected. “Do you want a ring…” He eyed Cara curiously.

  “Doesn’t matter. I just want a better setting—platinum, I think, and I want to give them their best stage.” Once more, Jonathan became oblivious to Cara’s presence, which amused her highly.

  “Well, I ask because I can see…” As he spoke, Hadley sketched a pendant that Cara could see would be breathtaking. “What do you think?”

  “What would be the final value do you think?”

  “Twenty. Easily. Maybe twenty-two.”

  “What would the work cost me?” Jonathan, despite his obvious affection for the sloppy looking man, remained all business.”

  “Five.”

  “I’ll take it. Shall I pay—”

  “I’ll invoice when I send it. Same address?” Again, he looked at Cara curiously.

  This time, Jonathan noticed and his ears grew red. “Oh, Hadley, Cara, I’m sorry. May I introduce Cara Laas? Cara, this is my dear friend, Hadley.”

  “Hadley what?” She asked, smiling at him.

  “I don’t know.” Jonathan looked at the wrinkled old man curiously. “I never thought to ask.”

  “Folks just call me Hadley. I don’t remember if it’s first, last, or middle,” he insisted. “I don’t think I’d answer to anything else.”

  “I’ve known Hadley since I was in elementary school. Aunt Grace shops in here from time to time, and she brought me once. After that, I came whenever I could.”

  “He was the perfect visitor. He’d come into my workroom, sit on a stool, and watch. He’d sit there for hours without saying a word and then, bam! Out of nowhere he’d ask one of the most intelligent questions anyone could ask. I tried to get him to become a designer/gemologist but no, he insisted on going into Grace’s company.”

  “Uncle Weston could ensure I’d be able to afford to own, not just play with your rocks, Hadley. It was a no-brainer for me.” Jonathan glanced sideways at Cara and then asked his next question. “I have a few pieces I’m sure I’ll be parting with. Can I send pictures and get your opinion on sales versus reset?”

  “Happy to do it, boy.” Ignoring him, Hadley looked at Cara. “So, what’s your favorite stone, Cara?”

  She thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t remember what it’s called but it’s—”

  The moment she said, “I don’t know” the gentleman hurried from the room. “What did I say?”

  “He’s getting his collection. He has a perfect cut of every stone that he keeps in the vault. He likes to use it when helping people design a piece.”

  Hadley returned before she could ask more. “Okay, little lady, let’s talk gems.” He rolled out a jeweler’s roll with dozens of little pockets. Fro
m each pocket, using his specialized tweezers, he pulled a stone and placed it on a tray. “If you know it’s not your favorite, tell me and I’ll put it back.”

  For what seemed like forever, he pulled stone after stone from their little pockets, held them under the table light, turning to show each beautiful facet, and then laid them in the tray or returned them to the pocket at her word. Purple garnets, blue diamonds, orange diamonds, green sapphires, and emeralds came and went, leaving only a clear white diamond and an aquamarine that Hadley confessed wasn’t top quality but he adored the color.

  “That’s it. Aquamarine. I love diamonds, of course; what woman doesn’t? But that aquamarine—it looks like that gorgeous bracelet at Memories.”

  “That was a beautiful design. I could see the stones were decent quality—I wouldn’t buy them, but they weren’t inferior.”

  “Where is this Memories anyway?” Hadley looked intrigued.

  They talked for a few minutes before Jonathan stood and excused them. “I promised her a day of fun, and here I am conducting business. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no! I’m having a wonderful time. I learned more about gems than I’d ever imagined. They’re absolutely breathtaking, Hadley, and thanks for the education. I now can speak of inclusions and dispersions and sound like I know what I’m talking about.”

  Cara waited until they were seated in Jonathan’s car before she spoke. Covering his hand with hers, Cara said, “Wait. What just happened in there? You bought a ring, which is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, I might add, and then pay nearly what you paid for it—too much in my opinion—to have it reset. Why?”

  “Investment. Part of my retirement portfolio is invested in jewels. If the market crashes, gold, jewels, and things like that will still have some value on the market. There is always someone who wants precious stones and metals, so it’s a good diversification, especially since it’s a passion of mine.”

  She blinked. “You invest in jewelry.”

  “I could just do stones and metals, but jewelry is prettier and more interesting. Also, thanks to poor settings and cuttings, you can really get good bargains on stones. Like today’s. I feel almost guilty about that.”

  “You feel guilty why? I can’t tell if what I think I was hearing is what I heard or not. I’m in finance. I’m not stupid, but you guys were almost talking a different language.”

  “I bought three diamonds for eight thousand dollars. Those diamonds happened to be set in a very lousy piece of white gold and in an inferior and ugly setting. Hadley will take that gold, sell it for scrap, giving me credit toward the platinum he’s going to use in the new setting, and then he’ll recut the diamonds, polish, etcetera, and set them into his new design.”

  She stared at him. “Okay…”

  “Okay, simple terms. I bought twelve thousand dollars in diamonds for eight thousand dollars. An inferior cut and setting made them appear, to a careless eye, to be less valuable than they were. So, walking out the door, my profit was already four thousand dollars, less taxes. However, by spending that initial profit plus another thousand, I’ll double the profit on them instead of just half it. Does that make sense?”

  “He said twenty two thousand when all is done?” Cara couldn’t figure how thirteen thousand increased to twenty-two was doubling his profit.

  “Yes, the right setting can increase the value of raw stones, and Hadley’s designs are highly sought after.”

  “But you are essentially spending thirteen thousand, minus taxes, for twenty-two thousand.”

  “You’re right, it’s not doubling in actual value, but because of the collectability of Hadley’s work, I know I can easily get four to six thousand more for it than Hadley’s appraisal. He considers it unethical to add in the increase his following would bring since it directly affects him.”

  “So, you just spent thirteen thousand dollars, but if you go to sell it next year, you’d have a clear profit of another thirteen thousand?”

  “At least, yes.”

  She had to ask. “And will you sell it?”

  “If I get the right offer, definitely. Jewelry has little sentimental value for me. It’s an investment, like art or horses.”

  “I’ve never heard of that. How interesting.” She wanted to ask. Oh, how she wanted to ask just how much jewelry he owned, but she didn’t.

  Jonathan saw her hesitation and added, “I have an extensive collection. I try to keep one third of my salary for investments, and one third of my investments are in jewelry.”

  “Wow.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What should I wear? Casual, dressy, somewhere in between?” Cara called down the hallway as she hurried to change for their date. She coughed and went for a drink of water. The rasp in her throat had been gone all day, but calling out seemed to aggravate it again.

  “Maybe middle. Not RMC worthy but not grungy jeans.”

  She skittled back down the hall, hurried upstairs, and closed her door behind her. Jonathan sank into the corner of her couch, his hand thrown back over his eyes and his body completely relaxed. Minutes later, as he felt the couch sink in beside him; he opened them in eager anticipation of what she’d be wearing this time.

  Cara grinned. “Baseball t-shirt and cut off sweats maybe?”

  “Um…” He wasn’t sure what to say. She looked adorable, but it wasn’t exactly appropriate for the restaurant he’d chosen.

  “I don’t want to go out.”

  “You don’t?” Jonathan’s eyes roamed her features, trying to see if she didn’t want to go out as in leave or if she didn’t want to go out with him.

  “We’ve been all over the place this week and it’s been great, but…”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize but, of course, you’ve had to get up and go to work, and I get to sleep in and play with kids in between our dates—”

  “As I was saying,” she winked, “I want to find the cheesiest movie on TV, order pizza and carbsticks, and just veg and be with you.”

  “You don’t want me to go?”

  “Nope. You do have to take off your shoes though. You can’t veg with shoes on.” Cara reached for the phone. “What do you like on your pizza?”

  “Everything but pineapple and anchovies, but—”

  She waved her hand at him and punched the number from her speed dial. “I’d like to make an order for delivery, please. Yes.” He listened as she gave her address, telephone number, and then his eyes widened as she ordered the pizza. “I’d like a pizza with pineapple and Canadian bacon…” she winked at him, “on one half and the works on the other. No anchovies or pineapple with the works. Right. One order of double cheesy breadsticks and a two liter bottle of root beer.”

  As she pocketed her phone, Cara laughed. “You really didn’t think I’d order what you expressly said you didn’t want, did you?”

  “Well…”

  She grabbed the remote, flipped the channel to the guide, and scrolled through the options until she froze the screen. “Look! Better Off Dead is on in twelve minutes! That’s a perfect stupid movie. I was hoping for Ferris Bueller but—”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Don’t you love to veg to a really stupid movie where if you don’t follow it, who cares?”

  “I’ve never done it.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to do it either. It sounded tedious at best, but she’d been a sport about his side trip to Hadley’s, and he could endure an hour and a half of idiocy as a thank-you.

  Tossing him a pillow, Cara curled up on her end of the overstuffed floral couch and rested her head against the arm. “Wake me up when it starts. Don’t let me miss the opening. It’s my favorite.”

  When would he stop being surprised by her absolute ease with him? He knew she had chameleon properties, but he wondered if she was as thoroughly adaptable to all circumstances or if somehow she felt the odd connection too. The saleswoman at The Vault had prompted the only true display of discomfort that he’d seen from her—aside from
comparing herself with Lily. Why would Cara care about what a ridiculously insecure woman did to prove her superiority? It didn’t make sense.

  “I was caught off guard, and I refuse to do business with places that employ people who are so rude and thoughtless.”

  “How—”

  “I’ve been waiting to answer the question I knew you’d have. I just didn’t feel it until now.” She laughed at the incredulous look on his face. “Okay, so I took a gamble. I knew you’d be confused about me being bothered by something so trivial, but you hadn’t had a chance for it to hit you yet. I just realized you finally could think about it so…”

  “That’s even more amazing than sensing it.”

  “I’m good.”

  All around them, Cara’s clocks ticked the last few minutes until the hour. Second hands made their steady rhythmic clicks as they circled the face of the clock while minute hands slid slowly, minute after minute, toward the top, until familiar Westminster chimes heralded the hour. All the way down the hall, he could hear the cuckoo of Cara’s favorite little clock

  Cara didn’t move. He watched for a moment and then nudged her knee with his toe. “It’s six o’clock.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “You said to wake you up. The movie is about to start.” He clicked the remote and waited for sound to attack them from the speakers, but silence reigned.

  “I keep it on mute. Hit the button. I hate having the sound blast you.”

  “I didn’t think you were awake. I was hoping for the alarm clock effect.”

  She grinned and twisted to get more comfortable as the opening music began. “No way. I was just waiting to see if you’d wake me up or not.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Some guys wouldn’t. Especially if the movie didn’t interest them and they could get away without turning it on.”

  There truly was little else that Jonathan could think about that interested him less at that particular moment than watching a stupid teen movie from the eighties. However, he hadn’t banked on the difference between simply watching a movie, and watching a movie with Cara. She laughed, mocked, threw imaginary popcorn, and swooned over John Cusack as her idea of the perfect teen heartthrob. Jonathan didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned, but he soon decided that she’d given him one of the most relaxing and enjoyable evenings of his life. By the time Lane had his first race against the Asians, Jonathan had become engrossed.