The Jeweler

by Anderson, Beck

  She waved a hand to back him off. “I’m all right. I’m okay. Nothing happened. Haven’t you ever tried to see how long you could stay under?” She felt a little defensive.

  She breathed in as deeply as she could. She released the breath, and it was as if she were unwinding the knots of stress in her back and neck. But letting go of the stress drew in a new feeling: fatigue. She wanted to curl up on the concrete right there and sleep everything away.

  She closed her eyes and let her head rest on her knees. He was talking to her, she noticed.

  “What?” Her voice was small. She felt a little better.

  Bode patted her on the arm. “I said if you’re going to sit at the bottom of the pool, at least use scuba gear.”

  “You’ve seen The Graduate?”

  “The what?”

  “Nothing.” She laughed a little. I need to sleep. I just need to sleep and everything will be fine.

  He leaned forward and looked into her face. “Do you want to lie down for a minute? We could pull a lounge chair around the side of the pump building. It’s sunny, and no one would see you there if they came to swim.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” She stood, and he put an arm around her, guiding her over to a chair.

  Her body ached. She was about to close her eyes when Bode sat down on the end of the chair.

  “Ginger?”

  “Yeah?”

  Bode looked her in the eye. He seemed older, more serious. “Was that something I need to worry about?”

  Ginger sat for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  “Was it about Brad?” He waited for an answer.

  “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay.” Bode unfolded a dry towel and covered her with it. “You sleep for a while, and then I’ll take you home. We can lock the gates. No one comes this early anyway. I’ll call Molly, and she can stay with you.”

  Ginger remembered talking to Molly briefly a day ago. “No, she’s gone. There was a concert in Salt Lake. She’s had the tickets since January.”

  Bode got up and looked around the pool enclosure. “Well, then I’ll come by and check on you, every day. Or come cook for you after work. Unless you want me to call your mom. She could come to stay with you.”

  Ginger’s heart jumped. Mom would freak out about this. “No, that’s okay. It’d be good to hang out with you.”

  “You sleep, then, and I’ll take you home in a while.” He patted her again on the arm and walked around the corner. She closed her eyes and let the fatigue take her.

  Voices awakened her. She was cold underneath the towel. The voices were all men’s. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but she was embarrassed. What if it was J.C., their boss from City Rec? She had no idea how long she’d been sleeping. She figured she’d better emerge. Bode was probably trying to cover for her, and it’d be pretty pathetic to get fired from a lifeguarding job. She stood up and tried to smooth her hair. She wrapped the towel around her waist and walked as energetically as she could around the corner.

  At the pool gate, Bode stood talking to two men. One was Fender. The other one was big. It looked like Sam, Fender’s friend.

  Rage rushed into her head like a hurricane. She pounded across the pool deck, driving her bare heels into the concrete beneath her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  All the men turned to face her, all of them looking a little scared. Fender opened his mouth to answer her, but Bode spoke first.

  “They were looking for you, but I told them you didn’t want to see anybody.”

  She pressed a finger into Fender’s chest, pushing her way past Bode. “What the hell is going on? You sold Brad an engagement ring. Was it for me?”

  He looked shocked. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

  “Where is it?” She poked him in the chest again. It felt good. She thought maybe she wanted to punch him.

  “I don’t have it anymore. I came here to tell you all about it.”

  “Did you go to the funeral?” She gritted her teeth, but she felt tears streaming from her eyes.

  “I did. I was looking for you, to tell you about the ring. That’s why I met you on the mountain, too. I wanted to tell you.” He tried to back up, but she had him cornered against the chain-link fence. The other men stood close but looked afraid to intervene.

  “You never told me. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you take all of those lessons? Why did you ask me out? How come you never told me?” She shook every time she said a word. She unleashed them, hurling them out of her body.

  Fender looked like he might cry. “I should’ve told you. I waited for the right time. But it never happened, and by then I really liked you.”

  “Did he come to see you the day he died? Did he say anything about me? Tell me!”

  His response to her raised voice was to speak so quietly he almost whispered. “He was really excited. Yes, it was the day he passed away. I’m so sorry.”

  He turned and started to leave. Ginger pushed him, hard, in the back. “I want the ring.” He didn’t turn around. She shoved him this time. “I want the ring, you bastard.”

  Sam held up a hand. “It’s okay. Let him go.”

  Fender faced her. “I’m really sorry.” Sam took him by the arm, and they turned their backs on her. Bode touched her, keeping her from following.

  They left. Ginger threw her towel into the pool. Then she picked up a good number of chairs and threw them in the pool, too. It was a damn good thing the only customer was ancient Mrs. Isaacs, swimming laps on the far side of the water in her frilly green bathing cap, oblivious to the world. Rage shook Ginger’s body. This is my breaking point. I am done. Every time she paused to breathe, images flooded her mind: The sun baking down on the shoulders of a man in a black suit, walking away from a funeral. The view outside the kitchen window as she heard an unfamiliar voice on the phone tell of an accident. Fender’s lips parting as she rained hurtful words down upon him. Those shoulders, rounding in on themselves as he walked out the pool gate. She closed her eyes to all of it.

  Fender lay on the couch at Pop’s house with a wet washcloth over his eyes. The washcloth had been Pop’s idea. He can really act like an old lady sometimes. Sam sat on the opposite couch. He picked at a barrette he’d found in the cushions, making a plinking sound with the metal of its clasp.

  “It could’ve been worse.”

  Fender almost smiled at the absurdity of the whole situation. “Um, how?” He didn’t look at Sam. He just stared into the wet of the washcloth.

  “Well, you didn’t have to tell her. She already knew. That saved you some time.”

  “Could we review again how she knew?” The gods hate me. It’s becoming painfully clear. Even a Greek hero would’ve gotten the message by now.

  “Like I tried to explain, I kind of had lots of money and checks and stuff spread around the shop. This was when you were at home having your moment, and Pop and I were keeping the ship afloat.”

  “Yes, I remember. And I’m still appreciative.” Fender watched little pieces of who knows what float around in his eyes under the dark washcloth. His head hadn’t really started to pound, but he was sure it was only a matter of time. “Go on.”

  “The check from Dead Boyfriend must have gotten mixed into the other stuff I had spread all over the desk. So, it got deposited, and she must’ve gotten a call about it, and you know the rest, and now can we change the subject, please.”

  Fender pulled the washcloth off of his eyes and turned toward Sam. He still had the barrette between his thumbs. He plucked it like it was a Jew’s harp. Something odd occurred to Fender. “Hey, Sam?”

  Sam looked at him. “Yes?”

  “Why was there a girl’s barrette in between the cushions of Pop’s couch?” He chuckled and set Sam off on a spasm of giggles. It was giggles, no denying it. It didn’t matter that Sam was a big man, he giggled. Sam’s laughing made Fender laugh even more. Fender realized he was tired of being sad. He’d made his
bed, he’d even laid in it, and he was done.

  Sam’s sniggling subsided. “I’m really sorry, Fender. I know how much you liked this girl.”

  “It’s okay. I feel good that at least she knows the truth.” He replayed the scene at the pool in his mind. There was still one thing nagging at him. “Things aren’t totally done, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know. It’s going to be ugly, but it has to be done.” Fender was trying to rally the troops for battle.

  Sam flopped his body the length of the couch he had been sitting on. “It’s never over with you, Fender. Like the time in biology when you stuck little Santa hats on all the dissected rats.”

  “That was a fine moment.”

  “Yeah, but the moment never lasts, and you always have to go on to something else, something more complicated.”

  “You thought of the yarmulke idea. I just agreed it was appropriate to recognize all faiths.”

  “And it was the second time that got us caught.” Sam flicked the barrette at Fender on the other couch. “Well, I’m never one to miss watching you grovel. Maybe I should take pictures. I want to capture the look on Naomi’s face when you try to wrench that ring off her bony little finger.”

  Fender smiled. He was a man with nothing to lose. “Maybe I could trade the barrette for it. What the hell is this doing here?”

  Sam got up and walked to the kitchen. “Maybe it’s Amy Rasmussen’s. That girl was fast, even in fifth grade. You got it on with her, didn’t you? Could be hers.”

  “I guess that beats the theory that Pop’s playing with dolls.” Fender followed Sam into the kitchen to make a sandwich. Naomi. The name chilled his blood. Oh well. He had to get that ring.

  Chapter Twenty

  “LET’S HOPE ALL OF MY YEARS as a borderline juvenile delinquent will pay off for me now.” Fender paced the floor of the jewelry shop. It had been a week since the incident at the pool, and he still felt terrible. Retrieving Brad’s ring from Naomi was the only thing to do to apologize to Ginger. Here he was now with Sam, trying to come up with a plan.

  Sam sat in a chair he’d pulled out from the back office. “I don’t see any other way to get it back than to lie, cheat, or steal. You’ve already tried the honesty thing with Ginger, and look where it got you. You owe it to yourself—lie like a rug on the floor. That’s my advice.”

  I’m such a loser. How do I even function in this world? But Fender was feeling better. It now seemed okay if he never got to be with her. Just loving her was kind of different. It didn’t give him hope about himself—hell, no. But maybe there was something redeeming. He could still think of her face and feel better inside.

  He shook himself out of it. “Okay. Unless you have a plan, Sam, I say we just go to Jimmy and Naomi’s and wing it. Maybe I’ll think of something on the way there.”

  “Toss me the key to the display case. I think you should take another ring.”

  “What I really want to do is just pry the ring off the little she-devil’s finger. But that isn’t a bad idea, taking another ring. Grab one.” He tossed Sam his keys.

  Sam opened the engagement ring case. “Which one? Some of these are really spendy.”

  “At this point, I couldn’t care less. If it was just about Naomi, I’d say something loud and obnoxious. Naomi’s like a magpie. We could distract her with something big and shiny.” Fender flipped through his receipt book, looking for Jimmy’s current address.

  Sam looked into the case. “Perhaps I should just wad up a big ball of tinfoil. I can wave it around in front of her while you grab the ring.”

  Fender came to the case. “But since I am trying to make things right and restore balance to the universe in the name of love, this is the one that’s probably the closest in value.” He plucked a ring from the tray. “And I will state for the record that I’m giving Naomi a nice swap because Ginger would want it that way—for no other reason.” He paused for a moment and then handed it to Sam, who stuck it in a little red velvet box for safe-keeping. “We’re ready.”

  Fender locked the shop, and they drove up into the foothills, following the GPS toward Jimmy’s house. The homes grew larger and more decadent as they climbed. The views grew more expansive, and the houses more recently built. The yards of the homes were largely barren, homeowners trying to cultivate green grass on arid hills. A few of the lots had tiny, spindly excuses for trees. The neighborhood was a scar carved out of the side of a foothill.

  “Let me guess, Naomi made Jimmy move up here after they got married?” Sam sat in the passenger seat, chewing on sunflower seeds, shells and all. Fender wouldn’t let him smoke in the car, and he had to do something to keep himself occupied.

  “Yeah, I’d bet.” They pulled up outside a tan beast of a house. “This is it.” From the street, the three-car garage dominated the front.

  “I guess having money doesn’t guarantee having taste.” Sam spat a huge wad of sunflower shells into the gutter.

  “You’re disgusting.” Fender punched him in the shoulder.

  “Thank you.” Sam picked a shell out of his front teeth as the two came to the front door.

  “Follow my lead. Let’s hope something comes to me. You have the other one?”

  Sam patted his front right pocket. “You bet. Go get ’em, tiger. I got your back.”

  Fender rang the doorbell. There was immediately a flurry of frenzied, high-pitched barking. Of course. Naomi has yippy dogs. Why am I not surprised? He heard the click of heels on the entryway floor. He took a deep breath and tried to brace himself.

  “Hush up, girls! Let’s see who it is.” Naomi opened the door with a wide white grin that quickly dropped into a scowl. “It’s you. I’ll go get Jimmy.” She shut the door in Fender’s face, and he heard her scream up the stairs. “Jimmy! It’s that jeweler! Come see what he wants!” He heard the click of her heels again as she left the front door. He looked at Sam, who shrugged.

  The door swung open again, and Jimmy stood in the foyer, dressed in a shiny navy blue jogging suit and expensive Italian loafers. He looked a little haggard. “Fender! What’s up? Come in, come in. Let me show you the house.” He waved Sam and Fender in with one hand, like the host he clearly felt he should be. He held a Miller Light can in the other.

  “How are you, Jimmy?” Fender tried to smooth the nerves out of his voice.

  “I’m good. Can’t complain. Where’d Naomi go? She’ll want to say hello. She loves that ring we bought the last time we were in. I think she might like it more than the yellow thing I got for the engagement.”

  “Actually, that ring you bought last time is why we’re here. Does Naomi have it on right now?” Please let me think of something now. Please oh please before this man kicks my ass in the front hall of his home.

  “Sure she does. I’ll call her. What’s this about?” Jimmy eyed Fender suspiciously.

  Hiding from them behind the display cases probably didn’t instill a lot of confidence, Fender thought. “Well, I’d like to talk to both of you about it, actually. And I’d like to see the ring.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Sam let this slip.

  Fender rolled his eyes. Sam had been bugging him all day to remind him what it looked like. Fender shot him a look as Naomi came back into the front hall. She stuck out her bottom lip in an effort to look unhappy. Fender laid on the saccharine. “Hello, Naomi. It’s so good to see you again. How’ve you been?”

  She ignored him, sidling up alongside Jimmy and wrapping her arms around his gut. “What does he want, sugar? My show’s about to come on, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  Jimmy patted her on the shoulder. “She loves that Divorce Court. I don’t know why, but she does.”

  Sam coughed hard.

  Don’t look at him. He might make you laugh, and you’ll blow the whole thing. Fender looked at the ring. Naomi wore it on her right ring finger. It was really large. He thought back to how Old Lady Harriman had ordered it. And forgotten about it, no matter h
ow many times he called her. Then Brad bought it. And, well…It struck him. He bit his tongue to keep from smiling. He had her. He was going to get the ring back.

  “Well, I was very concerned about the two of you. Have you been healthy? Happy? No unfortunate accidents?”

  Sam looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He must have caught the new twinkle in Fender’s eye because he smiled and stared at the ground.

  Jimmy straightened up a little. “We’ve been all right. What does this have to do with the ring?”

  “Perhaps we’d better sit in the living room. I think it’d be better if you were both sitting down.”

  At Fender’s tone of voice, a look of dumb panic bloomed in Naomi’s eyes. She pulled Jimmy into the living room, and they plunked down on a huge yellow sofa. Fender almost lost his train of thought as he took in the living room’s decor. There were two of the poofy sofas, and flanking them were zebra-upholstered wingbacks. The walls were hung with large bearskins, dyed purple. In the corner stood an African mask at least seven feet tall. Sam also stood in the corner, poking his fingers in the mask’s mouth. Fender cleared his throat, and Sam stuck his hands in his pockets.

  Jimmy leaned forward on the couch. “Get to the point, Fender. What about the ring?”

  Fender took a deep, loud intake of air, and then he let them have it. “Have you ever heard of the Hope Diamond?”

  Naomi gasped. “Oh, it’s horrible!” Then she looked puzzled. “What is it?”

  This woman is as dumb as a box of rocks. But all the better for this to work. “The Hope Diamond was a beautiful blue diamond that was cursed. Everyone who purchased the diamond died before they had another birthday. It’s in the Smithsonian now. No one can own it, it’s so deadly.”

  Naomi dropped her right hand and looked at her yellow engagement ring on her left. “Is my yellow ring cursed? Are the colors bad luck? Oh, Jimmy!”

  Wait a second, this train’s headed down the wrong track. Detour! “No, Naomi. The curse of the Hope Diamond wasn’t about the color. It was about the first person who owned it. The person…” He paused. He couldn’t remember the old tale. Pop had told it to him as a kind of sick and twisted bedtime story so many times he’d had it memorized, but now he couldn’t remember. There was an uncomfortable silence. Sam looked at him, nodding his head for him to continue. Then it came back to him. “The person who discovered it in India took it off of an ancient idol. It had been placed on the statue’s forehead, as sort of a third eye.”