A Ring and a Promise

“True.” Abby had been itching to make changes for ages although there’d been no opportunity to do much with Winifred out sick. “But I’m up to my ears right now. Especially with the contest. I can’t fit another thing into the day.”

“It doesn’t have to take a lot of your time. Maybe you could tell me what you envision and I could come up with something. I’ve already done a survey of our client base. Age, income, all those variables that go into a wedding. I needed the info for the national campaign I’m supposed to get rolling.”

“I see.” This sounded like it would entail a lot of contact with Donovan, something Abby wanted to avoid.

“The thing is,” he paused to turn a corner. “In all our departments, we miss a large demographic. People think of us only as a bridal store or as wedding planners.”

“And Woodwards has more to offer than that.” She nodded, intrigued in spite of herself. “It’s true of jewelry, too. Who would you target first?”

“Middle-aged to seniors, baby boomers, folks with disposable income who want to celebrate their past or look ahead to the future.”

“Actually, the ring I’m working on now is for someone in exactly that group.” Abby wasn’t sure how much to tell him and whatever she did say had to be held in strictest confidence.

“Senior or baby boomer?”

“Senior. He’s a wealthy man who has spent his life making money and now he realizes that the only joy it brings is in sharing it with someone he really cares about. That’s what I want to show in my ring.” She huffed a sigh of frustration. “That’s what I thought I was showing until Ariane drew that gardenia.”

“Grandmother loves gardenias,” Donovan murmured.

Abby remained silent. He pulled into the parking lot, parked the car and studied her.

“You already knew that.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t bring herself to break a confidence.

“She’s a senior. So is Art. He definitely has a lot of money. Look at his car.”

Abby looked at Donovan instead. Saw understanding dawn.

“You’re saying Art is going to give my grandmother a diamond ring?”

“I’m not saying anything at all.”

“You don’t have to.” Donovan laid one arm on the steering wheel, his shock obvious. “But—they’ve just met!”

“Correction. You just met him. Winifred has known him for quite a while in very intense circumstances. That makes a difference.”

“Does the family know?”

“Of course not. This is Art’s secret. He wants to do it his way. I have no intention of spoiling that.” She gathered her purse, undid her seatbelt. “And neither can you,” she warned, glaring at him.

“But—marriage?” Donovan gaped. “She’s been a widow for—”

“Too long. Art makes her happy.” Abby avoided his stare. “Anyway, no one said anything about marriage to me. I was commissioned to make a gift and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Come on. A ring with a three-carat diamond?”

“Would be a very nice gift. It doesn’t have to automatically mean marriage.” She climbed out of his car and shut the door, suddenly irritated by his comments. “But what if it does? Surely that’s up to them to decide? Why should you object, except that you’ll have to find your own place to live?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

“Isn’t this exactly what we’ve been talking about? Figuring out the needs and wants of those who could be Woodwards’ new clients?”

Abby studied him for a moment, then walked swiftly into Woodwards. She went directly to her office and dealt with each and every matter that came up. At five o’clock she shut her door, pulled out Ariane’s sketch and went to work, forming a delicate but strong platinum gardenia that would shelter but also enhance the dazzling diamond she’d chosen. By nine-thirty Abby had a prototype that amazed even her. She dialed a number.

“Are you busy?”

“You have something?”

“A preliminary.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Ten minutes later, Art buzzed the back door.

“I hope you like it,” Abby murmured as she led him to her office. She slid a cloth off her work and showed him.

His reaction was everything she could have wanted.

“God surely does know how to direct a fellow to the right person for the job. And he certainly gave you a talent, Abby.” He bent, studied the ring from every angle.

Abby waited, nerves on tenterhooks.

This wasn’t God’s doing, she wanted to yell. This is me in spite of God. God hadn’t been part of her life since Donovan walked out on her and their dream. At least, she’d thought it was theirs.

“Finish it.” Art straightened, pulled out his checkbook and wrote in a sum that made her eyes pop. “This is your commission. Use it however you want.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you very much.”

“Don’t thank me, Abby.” He tilted on his heels, his face shadowed. “God has blessed you with a glorious gift that deserves to be displayed. But can I give you some advice?”

“Of course.” She held herself very still, waiting for the changes she was certain he’d ask for.

“There are a couple of verses in the Bible—I think I was meant to pass them on to you.”

“I see.” Why didn’t God give her the verses himself?

Art pulled a piece of paper from the stack on her printer and began writing in a big, ranging scrawl.

Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but be a new and different person with a freshness in all you do and think—Matt 10:29–31.

“That’s the NCV translation,” he added as he handed the paper to her.

A freshness in all you do and think. So God approved the contest?

“Thank you.” Abby stuffed the paper into a pocket. “Art, you realize you won’t be able to give this ring to Winifred if I enter it in the contest?” She had to be certain he understood he couldn’t pop it on her finger right away.

“Time’s not right for us yet,” Art agreed quietly. “But it is right for you. Get that thing finished and on the way to New York. Then get started on the next one.”