Chapter 22: The Blue Plate

Susie's POV

The Blue Plate was a narrow diner on Halsted with a red counter and a pie case.

The bell on the door had been ringing the same note since before I was born.

Opal sat in the back booth with her coat folded beside her.

There was a slice of cherry pie in front of her, and no menu.

"Sit," she said. "I ordered you the same. Dessert first. Always."

"I'm a dental hygienist," I said, sliding into the booth. "I'm legally required to disapprove."

"Disapprove with your mouth full."

The waitress who brought my pie called Opal "Mrs. P" and set the plate down like it was a medal.

I took a bite.

It was the best pie I had ever eaten in my life, and I wasn't sure I could swallow.

"You've had it since Saturday," Opal said. "The box."

"I didn't open it."

"I know. That's why I put it in your coat instead of your hand."

Opal tapped the table.

"People open a box when it's in their hand."

I took it out of my bag and put it on the red tabletop between us.

It sat there, small and dark and soft at the corners.

"I told you," Opal said. "A gift's only a gift if you can say no."

"So I can say no."

"You can say no to the whole thing. I'll take it back to the vault."

She shrugged.

"Nobody here will say a word about it."

I looked at the box.

I thought about my right hand, bare for two weeks.

I had touched the empty spot on my finger a hundred times without noticing.

"I don't want to wear it," I said.

"All right."

"It's not mine to wear. It's a fifty-thousand-dollar stone on a woman who takes the bus."

"Sixty-one."

"It's sixty-one thousand dollars, and I would be scared of it every day."

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