A Ring and a Promise. Lois Richer

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      “Nothing’s changed there,” she admitted grimly. “My mother still hopes I’ll have some kind of awakening and realize I really want to be a scientist.”

      “Is she why you’ve entered this contest?”

      The astuteness of his comment proved that Donovan had lost none of the perspicacity that had always rendered him capable of sizing up a situation in seconds. But Abby didn’t want him looking too closely into her motives.

      “I’m doing this for me,” she told him firmly. “Because I need to stretch myself, to do more unusual designs, ones Weddings by Woodwards has no market for.”

      “And if winning means your mother finally accepts your capability, so much the better, right?” He nodded as if he understood. “I suppose it’s the only way she’ll be convinced now.”

      A simple uplift of one eyebrow breathed life into his entire face. Abby slammed the door on her memories. The past was dead. Her goal was the future.

      “Have you got a stone chosen for this piece? You’re surely not doing paste?”

      “The fellow who commissioned it is buying the diamond from Woodwards.”

      “So you’re looking at what, three carats?” he guessed. “Nice.” He tilted his head to one side.

      Then Donovan pulled a dark blue box from his jacket pocket.

      “I saw this in Greece. It reminded me of that essay we did together in our senior year, the one on classical Greece.”

      She didn’t want to talk about their past.

      Donovan snapped the latch exposing a gorgeous bracelet crafted in the Byzantine style.

      Abby lost her breath when he slid the web of gold onto her wrist. No sooner had he closed the clasp than she brought the bracelet closer to study it.

      “The detail of the granulation is incredible. It looks like it was spun into shape.” She twisted her arm left, then right, to examine each bend and fold, admiring the painstaking craftsmanship.

      Then reality returned.

      “I can’t take this, Donovan. It’s too expensive. Besides, you don’t owe me anything.” She tried to slip it off, but he grasped her hand and held it between his.

      “I’m not trying to repay you, Abby. Why would I?” He lifted one eyebrow. “I bought it years ago because I knew you would appreciate it.”

      And then what—he’d forgotten he had it?

      Or he now wanted to be rid of all reminders of the past?

      “You can’t return a gift, Abby.”

      “But this—”

      “Is yours.” He watched her tip her wrist toward the light, as if he understood how little she wanted to give back this bracelet. And he probably did.

      Donovan hadn’t changed. He was still like a chameleon, spinning dreams and fantasy so well that everyone fell under his spell. But the man himself was impossible to pin down. Only now, seeing him again after so long, did Abby recognize that he’d abandoned the charisma he’d used to skate over life.

      “Thank you.” Abby undid the clasp and set the bracelet back in its box.

      “Abby, about that proposal.”

      “I’m not going to talk about it, Donovan. It’s over. I’m over it. I’ve moved on. So should you.”

      “You sound so hard. I don’t remember that about you.”

      She stared straight at him.

      “Time and circumstances do that to you, Donovan.”

      He returned her look without flinching.

      “Maybe you should tell me what you think happened that night, Abby,” he said, a quiet tension threading his voice. “What did your mother say?”

      “What’s the point of rehashing that period of our lives? It’s over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Abby turned her back, pretending to concentrate on her ring.

      A few minutes later, she heard the door close.

      Her legs weakened and she had to sit down for a minute to regain her equanimity.

      So Donovan was back.

      “So you avoid him. Keep yourself busy and away from him. He’s probably here for only a month or two, anyway. Donovan never sticks to anything anyway.” At least not the Donovan she remembered.

      For his first week at work, Donovan stuck to his office, familiarizing himself with everything about Weddings by Woodwards. Wednesday night he stayed late, poring over the ad campaigns the company had used in the past.

      Puzzled by something he read, Donovan was doing a survey of the sales floor when he saw a light shining in a back room. He checked it out and then wished he’d stayed upstairs.

      Abby was hunched over a table, her face determined as she twisted one of the ring’s claws tighter.

      “It must be tough to find the spare time to do what you love.”

      “That’s life.” Abby ignored him.

      “Tell me more about this contest.” He poked his finger at the fake stone.

      “It’s for jewelry designers across America who want to reach a broader audience with new designs.”

      “Meaning the chichi moneyed set?” he pressed on, determined to get rid of the tension between them.

      “Meaning people who know jewelry,” Abby substituted. “The kind of people I want to know better. In New York.”

      Donovan detested the snappish self-righteous tone in her voice. He was the good guy here. Five years ago, he’d given her the chance to pursue her dreams.

      “You never let anything stand in the way of your goals, do you, Abby?”

      “What does that mean?” she demanded, her forehead pleated in a fierce frown. “Do you?”

      Donovan sighed. What was he doing—trying to make her admit he’d been right to leave?

      “Grandmother says your designs are hot at Woodwards.”

      “Sales have been going well.” She set the ring down before facing him. “Why are you back, Donovan? Are you suddenly interested in the family’s wedding planning business?”

      Do not take offense, he ordered himself.

      “It was time.”

      “Why now?”

      “Grandmother СКАЧАТЬ