Sleeping in Eden (36 page)

Except a door directly opposite from where Lucas stood with Angela's hand still warming the curve of his elbow. It appeared unnaturally short, as if he would have to duck to enter the dark recess behind the retail space, and it was covered with a red brocade cloth like he would have expected to see at a French opera house. From behind this curtain there was the rattling sound of a thick, smoker's cough, followed by a husky “Be with you in a sec.”

“Mr. Kane?” Lucas whispered, looking down at Angela's upturned face.

She shrugged and fixed a smile to her lips as if it was an accessory she could take on and off.

The curtain moved and an elderly man stepped from behind it, inclining his head in what appeared to be a courteous greeting, but Lucas saw the low beam of the lintel brush the mop of his thick gray hair as he passed. “Hello, hello,” he called, and though his face was deep-set with unnumbered crags, his crinkled eyes were warm and friendly. The smile he offered them was genuine, if only a bit hesitant, as if he had endured the slight of many browsers who merely glanced at his goods and left. “What can I do for you?”

Lucas took a breath to speak, but Angela gave his arm a hard squeeze and gushed, “Are you Mr. Michael Kane?”

The old man looked confused for a minute, but then he straightened the collar peeking from beneath his brown sweater and gave an almost shy nod. “That's what they call me.”

Angela let go of Lucas and rushed forward with her hand
outstretched. “Oh, it's so nice to meet you, sir. I'm a big fan of your art.”

“My art?”

“Your jewelry. You are the designer, aren't you?” She swept her hand to indicate the meager displays behind her, the same ones that she and Lucas hadn't even taken a moment to glance inside.

“Yeah, it's mine.”

“Well, I just love what you do. It's understated but exquisite, the perfect balance between—”

“She's enthusiastic,” Lucas interrupted, coming up behind Angela and forcing himself to put his hand on the small of her back. His fingers hovered over the fabric of her coat, not quite daring to press against the curve of her body. He didn't want to put himself in the middle of the situation, but he thought Angela was laying it on too thick. She might be disarmingly beautiful and irrefutably charming, but he got the impression that if she didn't cool it a little, Mr. Kane would disappear into the rabbit hole behind his diminutive store and not come back.

Lucas cleared his throat and forced a smile. “We're, uh . . . we're engaged. And I told her that she can pick out the ring.”

At this, Mr. Kane shrugged and pursed his lips apologetically. “I don't work with diamonds.”

“Oh, I don't want a diamond,” Angela assured him. “I'm familiar with your work. I've been to your website.”

Mr. Kane nodded proudly. “My grandson designed that. As for me, I don't know how to turn on a computer, much less surf the spiderweb.” He seemed as pleased with his own lack of technological skills as he was with his grandson's obvious expertise.

Angela threw back her lovely head and laughed, tickling the back of Lucas's hand with the curled tips of her glossy hair. He yanked away and tucked his fingers deep into the pockets of his coat. “So,” he began, fumbling. “How does this work?”

Mr. Kane took a few steps into the store and moved behind the display case along the wall. “I have a few samples that you may
browse through,” he told them, indicating the meager offerings beneath the glass. “But I specialize in custom-designed jewelry. Most people have an idea of what they want when they come in.”

Lucas followed Angela's lead and bent over the counter, pretending to study the pieces inside.

“I have my own on-site gemological laboratory,” Mr. Kane said, launching into a well-rehearsed speech about the finer details of his business. “And I work directly with a manufacturing facility that features a complete casting room as well as four jewelry benches. I oversee the entire process, and when the piece is cast and assembled, I personally set the gems and do the finishing.”

“Satisfaction guaranteed,” Angela quipped, looking up at him through the soft curtain of her hair. It cascaded over her shoulder and glowed like white gold in the muted light as she bowed over the glass.

Mr. Kane smiled gently and nodded. “I like my customers to be happy.”

They had only been in the store a few minutes, but Lucas could already tell that Mr. Kane was enamored with his alleged wife-to-be. It was almost impossible to discern the exact reason for her magnetism, but Lucas suspected it had something to do with her disquieting mix of forgotten innocence and beauty, her easy smile but somehow burdened eyes.

“Does anything strike your fancy?” Mr. Kane asked, still watching her as he opened the sliding door of the cabinet with a tiny gold key. The movement was instinctive, as if he had done it many, many times.

“They're all very pretty,” Angela told him, straightening up. “But I did actually have something in mind.” She unzipped her purse and pulled out a cream-colored box from deep inside. Easing off the cardboard lid, she fished around in a shallow bed of cotton until she emerged triumphant with a delicate ring between her thumb and forefinger.

“I know all your designs are original,” she said, “but I just love this.”

Mr. Kane squinted at the ring in her hand and she offered it to him without pause. Lucas held his breath as the older man studied it, wondering if he'd recognize the piece, if he knew its rightful owner. He both dreaded and anticipated the implications of that possibility. Was she close? Would he be able to give them a name for their mysterious Woman? And, either way: Where would they go from here?

A full minute unraveled as Mr. Kane studied the ring from every angle. He tsked at the broken stone and tried to use the filed point of his fingernail to dislodge some stubborn dirt, but in the end he gave up and a certain satisfaction settled itself over his features. “It is pretty, isn't it? Even so abused.”

“Beautiful.”

“But I didn't make it for you,” he said.

Lucas's heart stumbled in his chest.

“I would have remembered if I made it for you,” Mr. Kane continued, unaware of Lucas's silent reaction. “May I ask where you got it?”

Though Lucas wanted to ignore the jeweler's question and demand to know who had commissioned the piece, he swallowed his questions and served up a portion of the story that he and Angela had agreed upon in the car. “We found it.”

“We were hiking in the Black Hills when I saw something glitter in the dirt just off the path.” Angela gave the tale flesh, crinkling her nose at the false memory of finding such a treasure in the dust.

“She liked the design, so she googled your initials and voilà. Here we are.” Lucas waited, skin prickling as he prayed that Mr. Kane would buy their fabricated story. But the old man didn't seem suspicious. He merely smiled blandly and handed the ring back to Angela.

“Well,” he said, “no two pieces are the same. I can't duplicate this one.”

“I don't want you to,” Angela assured him. She held out the ring and indicated different points along the gold band. “I want a small topaz here, princess cut, and one leaf on either side of
the stone. Oh, and I'd love it if you could make the band look like a branch. Can you do that?”

“Certainly,” Mr. Kane said, apparently warming to the idea of a new project. He leaned forward, eager to look more closely at her proposed alterations. “And what about your fiancé?” The old man met Lucas's eye and winked conspiratorially. “Are you happy with her creation, sir?”

Lucas tried not to look painfully uncomfortable. “Whatever will make her happy,” he murmured, sounding like a fool.

But Mr. Kane didn't notice or didn't care. Though his store was situated in prime retail territory, Lucas doubted the old-fashioned jeweler entertained much business as of late. Maybe his styles were considered out-of-date. Maybe people preferred buying tennis bracelets from sparkly emporiums with gentlemen in well-pressed Italian suits. Whatever the reason for his noticeable lack of current success, Lucas did not like Angela's taking advantage of Mr. Kane's situation by stringing him along in the hope of a lucrative sale.

He was just about to call Angela off, to make some excuse about their present inability to commit to a commission, when she reached into her purse again and took out a sleek leather pocketbook. She snapped it open and counted out a few denominations, then laid them on the counter in front of Mr. Kane. Five crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills fanned across the glass. “How about we consider this a down payment?” she purred. Pulling a homemade business card from another compartment in her wallet, she placed it on top of the money. “This is my information. Call me if you need anything and we'll settle the account when the ring is finished. You do ship, don't you?”

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Kane said, obviously flustered by her decisiveness and the money on the counter.

“Is it adequate?” Angela demurred, intentionally misreading his hesitation. She reached into her wallet again, but Mr. Kane shook his head firmly.

“It's fine,” he said. “Perfect, in fact. The topaz . . . ?”

“A half carat should do it,” Angela smiled, discerning his question before he asked it.

Mr. Kane tapped his fingers against the display case in what Lucas surmised to be quick calculation. He picked up the five hundred dollars and smiled doubtfully. “This should be just under one-third?”

It was apparent that he didn't want to startle her with the estimated amount, but Angela smiled and stuck her hand out to seal the deal. “I can't wait to see it,” she said.

Lucas was incredulous, but the money was legit and so was her card. Mr. Kane was holding it carefully, reading the fine print, and Lucas scanned the address upside down. Angela Webb, San Luis Obispo. She had just bought a ring from Michael Kane Designs. He almost leaned down to breathe a question in her ear, but Angela wasn't done yet.

“I'm so happy to be working with you, Mr. Kane,” she said.

“Please, call me Mike.”

“Mike,” she amended. “But there is one small thing I would like you to do for me.”

“Anything.” He grinned.

Angela held up the ruined ring and gave her features a doleful cast. “I'd like to find the rightful owner of this ring. I'm sure she's beside herself that it's gone. Do you know who you made it for?”

Mike looked hesitant. “I don't remember who commissioned it.”

“But you told me that you kept records.”

Stunned by her boldness, Lucas watched Mike's expression shift slightly. The older man seemed to be wrestling with himself, but either he was giddy from his recent sale or he was smitten with Angela, because he shook his head indulgently and wagged a finger at her like she was a naughty child.

“You're the one who called me.”

Angela tipped her chin in acknowledgment.

“You're early. I didn't expect you for another hour.”

“We were eager to meet you,” Angela hummed, still working him.

“Well, I don't normally share my records. They're my own personal scrapbook. I like to keep track, you know.”

“But you will share, just this once,” Angela coaxed him. “It would mean so much to me to be able to return this ring.”

He balked. “The ring may have changed hands, or the contact information might be obsolete. What if they threw the ring away on purpose? Maybe they don't want it anymore.”

Angela laughed. “We both know that's not true.” She gave the jeweler's forearm a gentle squeeze, but Lucas could see that her gesture was unnecessary. He had already made up his mind.

“Give me a minute,” Mike sighed. “I'll see what I can find.”

When he had disappeared behind the curtain, money and business card clutched firmly in his hand, Lucas spun on Angela and gave her a hard look.

“What?” she whispered, smirking.

“You just bought a fifteen-hundred-dollar ring if his estimation is right. I hope you don't expect me to fork over the difference, honey.”

“I'm buying it for myself, sweetheart. Jim wasn't rich, but he left me all he had. I see this as a gift to myself. A present in precelebration of proving my father's innocence. After all, he's getting the records!”

Lucas couldn't stop the wide smile that broke across his face. He knew that she was wrong about her father's innocence, but he didn't care. They were actually going to learn something! A name, an address, maybe more.

Mike came back only a few minutes later, clutching a three-ring binder that was bursting at the seams. It was spread open in his arms with approximately half of the slick pages on one side and half on the other. Lucas wondered what gave the sheets their wan glow, but as Mike approached, he realized that the binder was filled with plastic page protectors, each seeming to house just a simple leaf of paper.

With an air of unmistakable pride, Mike said, “The ring is my design. Someone bought it off the rack, so to speak.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most people come with a design in mind, but this one is all mine. In addition to custom designs, I make my own pieces and sell them in the store.”

Lucas and Angela leaned in, studying the pencil sketch that had been affixed with scotch tape to a piece of white paper. The lines were confident, the shading perfectly subtle. In addition to being a master jeweler, Mr. Kane was an artist. In just a glance Lucas could tell that it was indeed the ring he had found with the Woman. “Who bought it?” he demanded, surprising himself. “There's no information here.”

“Patience, patience,” Mike warned. “I keep details on the back.” He flipped the page over with a flick of his wrist.

Lucas could see a yellow invoice in the pocket behind the picture. He craned his neck to catch a name, a telephone number, anything, but before he could make sense of the scrawled writing, Mike slapped a palm on the sheet.