Chapter 23: Fixed to Fit

We got back to Phyllis's house at dusk, and nobody could stop talking.

My mother and Phyllis had spent the drive home comparing church bulletins.

Carol sat in the passenger seat with her cane across her knees, humming.

By seven the two older women were at the kitchen table with a pot of tea, laughing at things I could not hear.

Giles took my hand and walked me out to the back porch.

The yard was dark.

A porch light threw a yellow square on the boards, and the air smelled like cut leaves.

"I have something for you," he said.

"I thought you might."

"I picked it up Thursday. I wanted to give it to you when nobody could come through the door."

"Dean's not coming through any door, Giles."

"I'm taking no chances."

He reached into his coat and took out a small black box.

Inside was his father's gold band, bright from the polish.

It was the same ring, plain and worn, but it sat in the box at half its old size.

"I had it cut down," he said. "A jeweler on Newbury Street. It'll fit your finger and not slide off."

I took it out and turned it to the light.

Inside the band were two lines of engraving.

The first line had been there for thirty years, in a small formal script, and I didn't read it, because it belonged to Giles's mother.

The second line was new, and the letters were still sharp.

Look up.

I put my hand over my mouth.

"Your grandmother wrote it," Giles said. "My mother told me about the note. I asked her for the words."

"I hoped it was all right."

"It's perfect."

"You looked at your plate for five years," he said gently. "I wanted you to see the rest of the room."

"I'm looking at you."

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Priced Me at a Penny, So I Married Another from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.