Chapter 9: The Real Ring

I went down in Maddox's shirt and my overalls, with gold still in my hair.

He came down behind me and stopped on the third stair, close enough to hear and far enough not to loom.

I opened the street door.

It was nine-thirty, and the ceramics class on the second floor had just let out.

Six people with clay on their aprons stood in the lobby, putting on coats, pretending not to look.

Kendrick stood on the mat with the blue box in his hand.

He took in my face, the shirt, the man on the stairs behind me.

His own face did something small and ugly, and then smoothed over.

"That's his shirt."

"It's warm."

"Ellory." He drew a breath. "I need two minutes. Please."

"Say it here."

"Here?"

"You like an audience," I said. "I'm saving you a trip."

A woman with a clay-streaked braid stopped buttoning her coat.

Kendrick looked at them, then at me, and I watched him decide.

He was a man who made the right gesture when he was cornered.

He went down on one knee on the lobby tile, and he opened the box.

Inside was a ring I knew.

It was a thin gold band with a small old sapphire, and it had belonged to his grandmother.

He had shown it to me once, three years ago, and said, "Someday."

"This is the real one," he said, and his voice cracked in the right place.

"I got it out of the safe this afternoon. I was a fool, Ellory."

"It's been four days."

"It's been the longest four days of my life."

He looked up at me, wet-eyed.

"She's not what I thought. She's cold. She takes calls in the hall."

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