by Nancy Basile
After glancing at Jenn, Deb said, “No. Jenn said the same thing. She’s a trouble-maker, but she wouldn’t steal anything. My guess is that Gram didn’t put it in the jewelry box. She probably put it somewhere else for ‘safe keeping.’” Deb used air quotes on “safe keeping,” then intertwined her fingers with Jenn’s. They were as sad as a kid who let go of her balloon and watched it float into the sky.
Robin tapped her pointer finger on her lips, staring out the kitchen window. “I’m sure we can think of something.” Suddenly, she grabbed her phone and held it up, as if she were a model on a game show. “Why don’t we just find another old ring?”
Jenn and Deb exchanged a wary look. “I guess we could,” Jenn said, “but it won’t have any meaning. The whole point was to wear our grandmothers’ rings.” Jenn turned puppy-dog eyes on Robin.
“I get that. But now the ring you choose will have a new meaning, a new story, about the two of you.” This was a brilliant idea. They just needed to see the situation like Robin did. “Then, when you hand it down to your children — if you have children — you can tell them the story of how a ring was lost, and you found another one, all with the help of their genius Auntie Robin.” Robin preened as if the room were applauding her.
Jenn appealed to Deb. “At this late date, I don’t see what else we could do. And I refuse to buy any old ring from a store at the mall.”
“Right! Okay, just give me a sec.” Robin touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue, then unlocked her phone. She sent a short prayer to the Wi-Fi gods and was rewarded with decent internet speed. She brought up a social media marketplace and searched for ‘antique ring.’ After a few seconds, several choices popped up that were within an hour's radius. She flipped the phone around to Jenn and Deb. “What about one of these?”
Neither of them looked very excited about their choices.
“No? All right.” She brought up a new search, but this time searched for ‘vintage ring.’ A few more choices appeared on her screen. “What about these?” She showed them her phone again.
They both shook their heads. “Robin, it’s okay.” Jenn swallowed, and Robin could see tears pooling in her eyes. “We’ll figure something out.”
“No, no.” Robin stuck out her chin. “I’m not done. There’s too much history on the river for someone not to have an antique ring that would be perfect for you guys.” She went back to her phone, but this time, she brought up a vintage shopping site. She searched for ‘antique ring,’ but filtered for local sellers. Bingo! “Wow, look at these.” She showed them at least a dozen unique rings that were understated and sophisticated.
Jenn’s jaw dropped. “And these are nearby?” Deb used her finger to scroll around.
“Yep.” If Robin had been holding a microphone, she would have dropped it. “And the prices aren’t astronomical, either.”
“Most antique rings were made with semi-precious stones.” Deb continued to scroll. “That’s why the price is so reasonable.”
“Oh my stars, I love this one.” Jenn pointed to the phone and showed Deb her choice. Deb’s face broke into a big smile, and she nodded.
“Let me see.” Robin took her phone back. Their choice was a ring with a lovely garnet surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds set in platinum. Now she was tearing up. “It’s perfect.” The three women grinned like loons.
Their mother turned from the counter, sticky dough on her fingertips. “Well, if you want it, you better go get it. Time’s a wasting.”
Robin quickly bought and paid for the ring on her phone. Jenn and Deb protested, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “Just take care of me when I’m a crazy, old cat lady.”
The three women stood. “I can pick it up while you two are at the spa,” Deb offered. She gave Jenn a peck on the cheek and turned to leave the kitchen.
Robin grinned like a cat at a fish fry. Being the hero of the moment, especially for her sister, filled Robin with joy. “I’ll let the seller know you’re coming to pick it up.” Deb gave a thumbs up, then took off.
Jenn threw her arms around Robin for a bear hug. “What would I do without you, sis?”
Robin scraped the last bits of oatmeal from her mug and licked her spoon. “Ride the rails as a hobo with your belongings tied up in a crop top?
“Ha ha.” Jenn let go of Robin and grabbed her purse. “It’s spa time, baby!”
Their mother popped a sheet of cookies into the oven and spun a timer shaped like a hen. “Please tell me you’re wearing a nice bra and panties to the spa, and not some horrid underwear with holes in them.”
“Mom.” Robin growled. Jenn just laughed.
Robin dropped her spoon and mug into the sink and grabbed her bag. They both gave their mother a peck on the cheek, then headed out.
Once they were seated in Robin’s car, waiting for the AC to kick in, Jenn blew air through her lips. “I’ll be so happy when the big day is finally here and everything just goes smoothly. Waiting and worrying is getting to me.”
Robin clapped her hand on Jenn’s shoulder. “Then it’s a good thing we’re headed to the spa.” She tuned the radio to the Pittsburgh pop station and the sisters headed for the casino.
Chapter 12
The outline of a gold miner, traced in neon pink lights, pickaxe and all, waved a welcome to Robin and Jenn as they entered the grounds of the casino. Mountain Gold Casino had changed considerably since Robin left River Sutton. There was now a concert dome in the back parking lot. Beautiful beds of manicured shrubs and brightly colored flowers surrounded the racetrack instead of stretches of mud. And the hotel sported fresh paint in ombre shades that were reminiscent of the desert. As for the casino itself, it was twice as large as it was ten years ago, with neon pots of gold dotted along the roofline.
“Pull up to the front door where there’s valet parking.” Jenn pointed to the center doorway, bedecked in scads of yellow-gold fairy lights.
“Valet parking? Wow. Look at you, River Sutton.”
Jenn pulled a face, then hopped out when Robin’s car stopped. A young man in a black and gold vest took Robin’s keys, and her Subie, off to parts unknown.
The parking lot was jam-packed. The owners of all those cars were inside the casino, chain-smoking and dueling with one-armed bandits, waiting for a big pay-off that would most likely never come. They’d be better off staying home, watching TV, and chucking their change into a jar. But who had that kind of patience and restraint?
As they approached, the doors whooshed open, welcoming them into the chilled air of the lobby. Following Jenn down a long corridor, Robin gawked at everything, taking in the cheesy prospector and desert aesthetic. The corridor ended at a high counter bearing a large, red and orange sign that read “Sunset Day Spa.”
Behind the counter, a woman wearing enough makeup for at least two rodeo clowns smiled wide enough to show all her teeth, and explained their schedule. “You’ve registered for the Mountain Mud Scrub and the Nugget Nails mani-pedi.”
A faint “yeehaw” sounded from the direction of the casino, followed by a torrent of cascading musical notes. Rodeo clown-woman gasped. “Somebody just got lucky!” Her shoulders shot up to her ears, and she scrunched her face in delight. “Are you two heading to the casino after your treatments?” Robin glanced at Jenn, who shook her head. Thank the stars.
“Imagine running into Professor Robin at the casino.” The skin on the back of Robin’s neck crawled up to her scalp. Would she never live down that nickname? She glanced at Jenn, whose eyes said “uh oh.”
Jenn found her voice first. “Hi, Bruce! Wow, I haven't seen you in forever.”
An icy finger trailed down Robin’s spine. Bruce Clark. Jodi’s husband. She turned to face Bruce, only to look up, and up. No wonder he’d been such a sports star in high school; he was probably six feet, four inches.
She cleared her throat. “Hi, Bruce. Long time, no see.”
His dark eyes bore into her. “Not so long for my wife, though.”
“O
h, did Jodi tell you I stopped to say ‘hi?’” Robin plastered a smile on her face, determined to get to the other side of this conversation using as much cheerfulness as she needed.
“She did.” He crossed his arms, thick as Robin’s legs. “She’d been crying. But when I asked her what happened, she said you were harassing her about the high school reunion.” He raised one eyebrow.
Her brain short-circuited. She was a terrible liar, and having to follow someone else’s lead in a lie was even more difficult. Her eyes fluttered while she struggled to think of something credible to say. “I, um, yes. The reunion committee asked me to ask Jodi to help with the reunion.” Bruce glowered. “But, to be honest, after she told me she didn’t have any time to volunteer, I started thinking the same way. So, really, she did me a favor, because I bowed out, too.”
“Uh huh.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “That might be true, but here’s what I think.” Robin tried to step back from him, but the counter was right up on her behind. “I think it’s more than a coincidence that my wife was crying the same day everyone found out Roy got killed. And I think it’s more than a coincidence that you — the woman who was there when he died — had something to say to my wife.”
Robin’s mouth was bone dry. She scraped out, “That does seem odd, I’ll admit. But it is just a coincidence.”
Bruce uncrossed his arms, but stayed silent, staring at Robin. She held his gaze, refusing to give into the quakes and quivers in her belly that were telling her to run. He inhaled and swelled his barrel chest. He pointed his finger at Robin. “Stay away from my wife. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.” Then he moved past them and strode toward the gaming floor.
When Robin turned back to Jenn, her sister’s face was stiff and pale. “I think you should do what the man says.”
“So do I.” Robin caught a glare from the rodeo clown-woman. Like she needed anymore shade today.
Jenn gently touched her shoulder and smiled at the woman behind the counter. “I think we’re ready for our appointments.”
With a sniff, rodeo clown-woman led them to the locker room, where they changed into plush, cream-colored robes and disposable slippers. Then she took them to a room painted with an adobe faux finish, with two steel platforms in the middle that resembled autopsy tables except for their vinyl cushions. Drains were set into the floor beneath the beds. Robin smelled pine, underlaid with the smell of dank clay, and heard soft, instrumental country classics.
While two aestheticians soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed them, Jenn gave Robin what for. “I knew going to see Jodi was a bad idea. I told you not to butt in.”
Robin let Jenn’s voice wash over her while she tried to enjoy the masseuse’s rubdown. “You know I couldn’t ignore Roy’s last wish. And it’s not like I planned to see her again.” She needed to change the subject. “I didn’t hear the menu for the country club. What did you and Deb decide?”
Jenn gracefully took up the conversational baton and ran with it, chattering about the menu, the bar, the centerpieces, and tons of other wedding stuff.
After nearly an hour, Robin’s skin was raw and goose bumps were cropping up wherever a towel didn’t cover her. Then the clinicians announced it was time for their next treatment. Feeling like tenderized poultry, they followed a spa attendant to the nail salon, where they sat in side-by-side chairs, their feet resting in steaming, churning water.
Robin’s feet stung, and her soles itched. She used the toes of one foot to scratch the bottom of the other.
Jenn pulled her phone from her robe pocket and brought up photos of wedding things to show Robin. “What do you think of these bouquets?”
Robin swiped through a couple of photos. “They’re beautiful. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” She handed the phone back. “And I love my bridesmaid dress.”
“I chose it for you, sweet sister. I knew you’d look amazing in it.” Jenn leaned across the arms of their chairs and raised her hand against her mouth to whisper, “And Chris won’t know what hit him when he sees you.”
Heat spread across Robin’s cheeks. “Yeah, right. I’m sure he’s bringing someone as his plus one, right?”
“Not that I know of.” Jenn winked, actually winked. “He RSVP’d for just one.”
The heat in Robin’s cheeks spread to her entire face. Robin smoothed a hand over her forehead. Girl Scouts could have roasted s’mores over her skin. The nail technician pulled her feet out of the hot bath. Her feet were on fire, too.
“Uh oh.” Her nail tech held up her hands and stared at Robin’s feet.
“What ‘uh oh?’” Robin’s eyes traveled from the nail tech, to her feet, to her legs. Tiny red dots blanketed her skin, which was growing brighter by the nanosecond. “What the…?”
Jenn’s jaw dropped when she saw what was happening. “Robin, are you okay?”
“I feel really hot. And a little itchy.” She reached into her voluminous sleeve to scratch her arm. “Oh, my lands.” Her hands looked like a Georges Seurat painting. She spun her head toward Jenn. “What does my face look like?”
“Um.” Jenn’s popping eyes and pale face said it all. “I think you’re having an allergic reaction.”
Now her skin was blazing hot. She could have used a fire hose about now. “What do you think it is? The Mountain Mud? Did they dig a bunch of clay out of the nearest hillside?”
Jenn pointed at Robin’s nail tech. “Get some Benadryl. Stat!” Then Jenn swung her finger in her own nail tech’s direction. “Drain her footbath and start washing her feet, legs, whatever you can, with regular soap and water.” She faced Robin again. “Oh, my stars, Robin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were allergic to anything.”
Even her palms were itchy. “Neither did I.” Her nail tech appeared with a pink pill and a glass of water. Robin downed both and thanked her. She closed her fists, squeezing until her knuckles were white to keep from scratching her skin straight off. “I think I should forget the Nugget Nails and just go shower.”
Jenn’s face crumpled. “I’m really, really sorry. I’ll go too.” She pulled her feet from her own foot bath, but Robin stayed her with her hand.
“Hey, you’re the bride. Finish your nails. I can wait in the locker room.” Robin tried to slip out of her chair gracefully, but her fiery, stumpy legs wouldn’t cooperate. She wiggled her butt off the seat, slid onto the floor, and stumbled toward the locker room. “I just hope these spots go away right quick. Oh, and Jenn?” Her sister sat up, eager as a puppy. Robin rubbed her neck with the back of her hand. “You’re going to have to drive home. Benadryl knocks me out like a light.”
Chapter 13
The next morning, when Robin woke up, she recognized the pink cabbage roses straightaway. She was wide awake, even without the help of a venti cup of coffee. When was the last time that happened? Maybe she should take Benadryl more often.
Her family was just sitting down to breakfast when she waltzed into the kitchen. “Good morning!”
“Hey, there, sleepyhead.” Her father winked at her, then tucked into his scrambled eggs.
Jenn wrinkled her nose. “Feel better?”
“I feel like a new woman.” Robin sat down, buttered two pieces of toast, then smeared on raspberry jam. She poured herself a steaming cup of tea, stirring in sugar and honey. “I haven’t slept that well in ages.”
“Your sister told us what happened.” Her mother sipped her tea, eyes leveled at Robin over the rim of her cup. “You probably ate too much dairy. You always were sensitive to milk.”
“I didn’t have too much dairy.” Robin pointed her spoon at Jenn. “Jenn had as much dairy as I did, and nothing happened to her.”
“But your sister is so much, well, healthier than you are. It probably built up in your system. Goodness knows what you eat in Cleveland.” Her mother's eyes dropped to her plate, but she didn’t actually eat. She just scooted eggs around with her fork.
“I eat—” She stopped. She refused to rise to her
mother’s bait. This was Jenn’s time, her wedding, and Robin would not cause a fuss.
“Anyway,” Jenn intervened, “you didn’t miss much last night. Deb and I went through family photos, then our own photos, for the slide show at the reception.”
Robin chewed her buttered toast. “What’s on the docket today?”
“Just finishing up little things.” Jenn pulled her phone from her purse and checked her calendar. “After we eat, we’re going over to Deb’s parents’ house to make the favors.”
“Who’s going?” Robin plopped a dollop of raspberry jam to what was left of her toast. Her opinion was that toast was just a vehicle for butter and jam.
“Me, you, mom, and Deb.” Jenn pointed at each person when she said their name. She threw a thumb over her shoulder to indicate Deb.
“Me?” Robin washed her toast down with a sip of tea. “You know I’m not crafty. I’m all thumbs.”
“This favor is easy to make.” Jenn spoke to Robin as if she were a toddler. “We’re just putting some chocolates on pieces of tulle, then tying them with a bow.”
“Easy for you. Nightmare for me.” Robin’s phone vibrated. She was surprised to receive a text that wasn’t on Wi-Fi. She read the message, then leaned toward Jenn across the table. “Saved by the text. That’s Chris.”
Jenn gasped. “And what does he want?”
“He wants me to come into the station. He needs help digging something up on the internet.”
“That’s great, honey.” Her father sounded like she’d just qualified for the Kentucky Derby. Neither of her parents understood what she did for a living, which was fine. It was cute that helping Chris tickled him because it gave him an inkling about her job.
“While you’re there,” her mother directed, “please remind him that the wedding reception is formal. I don’t want him showing up in a flannel shirt and jeans.”
“Mother.” Jenn scowled. “He would never do that.”
Their mother shrugged. “Just making sure.”
