“I don’t care.”
When David shuffled into the kitchen in sweatpants, he stopped dead in the doorway.
She arrived before sunrise.
“I want it back from him,” she said.
When David shuffled into the kitchen in sweatpants, still half asleep, he stopped dead in the doorway.
Elaine looked up.
“Why did you tell us Sarah was the one who never wanted to get married?”
He stared at her, then at me, then at the papers on the table.
“Where is the ring, David?”
“What is this?”
Elaine held up the receipt. “It’s proof that I gave you your grandmother’s ring.”
His expression hardened. “This is private.”
“No,” Elaine said. “It stopped being private when you used her as your excuse.”
He turned to me. “You called my mother in the middle of the night?”
I said, “Where is the ring, David?”
When he returned, the ring was inside a cheap black jewelry box.
He gave a strained little laugh. “This is ridiculous.”
“Bring it here,” Elaine said.
He looked at her, jaw tight. “I was going to give it back.”
Elaine didn’t blink. “You had three years.”
When he returned, the ring was inside a cheap black jewelry box. Not the velvet heirloom box Elaine remembered. Just something plain and forgettable, like he had