Vanessa grabs my hand and makes little cooing noises. “Vintage! An heirloom?”
“It belonged to Michael’s grandmother.”
“Alice.” She gently rubs a thumb over the stone.
It takes me a minute to recognize the name. “Right, Alice. And I love it. I mean, it’s gorgeous.” I hold my hand up to admire the sparkle, and the ring knocks against my knuckle. “But see? It’s far too big and it won’t stay on my finger. I’m afraid to wear it until I can get it resized. And even then, between you and me, I’m a little shy about wearing something so ostentatious….” I muster up a blush. “Honestly I’m a pretty understated person. It’s not like I can wear this when I’m teaching. If it were up to me, I’d just donate it and get something smaller.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She nods, all serious, as if she can relate, although I know from Instagram that there is no rock that would be too big for Vanessa Liebling.
“Anyway, I also hate just leaving it sitting there in the cottage. I guess I’m paranoid, but the cottage feels so exposed….” It seems ludicrous to suggest that robbers will be prowling the snowy lakeshore in the dark, but she frowns, as if seriously considering the possibility. I hope I haven’t just scared her into installing a better alarm system. “Anyway, I was wondering— Do you have a safe here?”
She lets go of my hand. “A safe? Yes, of course.”
“Would you mind, terribly, keeping my ring there, for safekeeping, while we’re staying here?” And I slip the ring off my finger and drop it into her palm before she has a chance to think about it. Her hand instinctively closes around it, like a baby clutching a toy. I cover her fist with mine, and give it a gentle squeeze of appreciation. “It would really make me feel better to know it’s somewhere where I don’t have to worry about it. I’ve never owned anything this nice. And I just feel…” I hesitate. “Well, I feel like I can trust you.”
Her eyes drop down to our two hands, clasped softly together around what she believes is my most precious possession. “I totally understand.” When her eyes rise to meet mine, I’m surprised to see that they are damp with tears. Here we go again. Why is she crying this time?
But then I remember the engagement ring she posted on her V-Life feed, the radiant smile on her face as she peered through her fingers at the camera. Guys: I have news. That ring is gone now; yet another line in the ledger of poor Vanessa’s personal tragedies. What happened? I wonder. Maybe it’s because I’m still playing at Ashley, or maybe it’s because some humanity inside me wants to connect with the humanity inside her despite it all; either way, I feel compelled to ask.
“You were engaged earlier this year, right?” I ask softly.
She looks startled. “How did you know that?”
“Your Instagram.”
Her mouth falls open slightly and her thoughts seem to go inward. It looks like she’s trying to summon up a speech she’s prepared, an inspirational quote that will demonstrate how resilient and introspective she is. But for some reason it won’t come. Her hand unclenches, revealing my ring in her palm; she rolls it back and forth so that it catches the light, an oddly possessive gesture for a ring that doesn’t even belong to her. “He didn’t like my lifestyle very much,” she finally says, watching the ring sparkle. Her voice has changed, flatlined. “He wants to go into politics like his mom and he decided I was a hindrance to his life goals. My ‘optics’ were bad. Unseemly for a public servant to be seen on a private jet, especially in the current environment. Comes off as shallow. So.” She shrugs. “I can’t say I blame him.”
This is not what I had expected to hear. I figured, infidelity, maybe drug problems—something sordid and contemptible. I am surprised, too, to discover that she’s got a modicum of self-awareness. Shallow? I would never have imagined that word coming out of her mouth. “He waited until you were engaged to decide this?”