Sweet Pain (Amatucci Family #3) - Sadie Jacks Page 0,114
the full forty acres wired. Well, one of the benefits to having more money than I could safely spend in a lifetime was paying out the nose for high-tech—and low-tech—security.
The debacle at the penthouse had made me see the error of my ways in depending solely on electronics and things that required electrical power. We would need to get some expert opinions on how to make this property harder to infiltrate. I wasn’t willing to have Willow in danger.
I grabbed her hand. “So, how about we go get your ring sized.” I tried to keep the pressure and demand out of my voice. But since asking her to marry me and having to see her carry the box around, her finger still bare, was killing me.
I’d honestly thought to never get married. But now that I was, I wanted everyone to know it. Know that she was mine. That she’d picked me and not anyone else. I wondered if I could buy a floating sign that said RYKER PENN’S. DO NOT TOUCH. And have it flash over her head when any asshole got too close.
She probably wouldn’t go for it, so my next best option was the ring Grams had given me.
“Finally!” she said. “I want it on my finger. Yesterday. I just want to be able to keep my finger.”
I chuckled. “Me, too, cupcake.” I drove us back into town. Even the drive from our most likely new home to the city really wasn’t bad. Very scenic with the rolling hills and lush colors of fall that stretched far and wide.
Eventually, I pulled up at the jeweler’s. I’d called this morning while Scott had been talking to the home owners. The jeweler was expecting us.
I got out of the car, went around to Willow’s side. As she slid from the passenger seat, I took her hand. The aging jeweler was waiting for us at the door. “Mr. Penn, so happy to hear from you,” she said. “Come in, come in.” She waved us in as she backed up. “How’s Alda these days?”
“Still feisty as ever on her good days,” I replied as Willow handed me the ring box. “This is the ring she told you about. We need it resized for my fiancée’s finger.”
The aptly named jeweler, Ms. Opal Goldie, shoved her glasses up her long beak of a nose as she took the box with her gnarled and scarred hands. She opened it. Whistled. “I knew that rascal had a Deco, but I had no idea it was a Cartier.”
I blinked. I hadn’t known it was a Cartier diamond either. Not that it mattered to me a whole lot. Willow loved it, Grams had given it to me. That was all the provenance I needed.
Ms. Goldie turned to Willow. “You’re a lucky lady, missy. Let’s see your heart finger.” She stuck out her hand.
Willow smiled, held out her left hand.
Ms. Goldie slid her own fingers down the length of Willow’s. “I’d say a seven, but we’ll get a tester just to double check. My eyes and touch aren’t what they used to be, cursed time.”
Willow looked up at me, a smile on her face. She waited until the acerbic jeweler left to fetch her ring sizers. “How do you know her? She’s fabulous.”
My lips ticked up. “Grams. She brought me here every time she needed to get one of her broaches cleaned. Said a man needed a jeweler he could trust. Grams never went to anyone else. Mr. Goldie—Opals’ father—opened this shop in the City in the thirties. They moved up here when his health started failing. Opal took over the store when she was eighteen.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “Eighteen and running a jewelry store in the fifties in New York?” She shook her head, awe in her voice.
“That’s right, missy,” Ms. Goldie said as she came back. “Those good for nothing brothers of mine couldn’t be bothered to run it. They ran off to find their millions in the life and zest of the City. And every single one of them came back, humbled and groveling. But Daddy’d given it to me, he had. And they got turned out if they couldn’t earn their keep.”
She snatched up Willow’s hand, shoved a ring down the length of it. She nodded. She cawed like a crow. “I’ve still got it, I tell ya.” She shook her ring sizer at Willow. “You’re a seven. This ring is a five. I can get it sized for you. Are you expecting babies in