Page 1 of Honeycombs & Homecomings

Chapter 1

“You sure you want to do this, Jo?”

Jocelyn Ward leaned heavily against the cool glass and metal display case to keep her legs from shaking. She stared at the 4-carat oval sapphire ring with diamond insets in a platinum band on her right-hand ring finger. In the deep, sparkling blue she caught her reflection and flinched, then glanced over her shoulder. It was just her there. Not her sister. She swallowed thickly, slid the ring off and placed it on the counter with a clink against the glass.

“How much can I get for it?” Jo pulled two pieces of folded paper from her back pocket, certification from eighty-three years ago and another from ten years ago, and placed them on the counter next to the ring.

Tim pushed a lock of his unkempt blond hair behind his ear, took a deep breath and picked the ring up to examine it with a loupe.

She knew how much it was worth. The family heirloom had few secrets anymore, the story behind it near legend now, and the price was better known than the story that accompanied it.

Her heart thudded in her chest as Tim held it up to a light, staring at the deep blue stone. “It’s a beaut. I’d give you $10,000.” He put the ring on his pinky finger up to the first knuckle until it couldn’t go any higher.

“It’s been appraised at fifteen.” She pushed the papers forward.

He picked them up and examined them. “That was 10 years ago, and with this economy . . . it’s dropped in value, Doll.”

Pressure built between her brows as she thought. Tim had a reputation for being tough, but honest and fair. She had no reason to believe he was trying to cheat her. Ten thousand would be more than enough to make the payment to the bank in two days, and when the money came through for the house, she could come get the ring back. Best-case scenario.

She breathed deep. “All right, let’s do it. And I want to put a down payment on it.”

He shook his head, the deep crinkles around his eyes stressed by the tan lines. “How much do you want to put down? It has to be at least ten percent—that’d give you a week.”

She needed two, but could only afford one and a half. “I can do fifteen percent.”

“You have a deal.”

“Deal.”

He reached for her hand to shake on it, and she gave it to him, but he yanked it and her across the counter instead. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She felt her gaze pull to the ring. Dread filled her, but so too did her resolve. She made eye contact—unflinching. “Yes.”

It wasn’t like she had much choice in the matter. It was this or her company.

***

The check safely stashed in her purse, minus the fifteen hundred deposit, Jo pulled up to their sprawling family estate. Three large moving trucks sat outside the manor house, backed to the door, platforms down.

Her mother, Clara, stood outside directing movers as they loaded furniture onto the trucks, a large-brimmed hat on, a hankie in one hand, and eyes puffy and red from days of crying.

Jo parked and rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans before getting out.

“Careful with that!” Clara yelled, her messy bun, let stray bursts of bright red hair salted with pure white loose in a physical display of her inner-turmoil, as two movers clunked an old armoire into a truck. They’d wrapped it in a heavy-duty moving blanket.

Jo walked past. “It’s fine, mom,” she said. “Let them do their jobs.”

Clara raised her voice. “This furniture has been in our family—”

Jo whipped around and lowered her voice. “Mom, don’t make a scene.”

They lived in a small town, and even though they’d lost their house, they still had to live here. People didn’t always mean to gossip, but word got around in small towns, especially when the word was juicy drama.

Her mother’s eyes welled with tears, magnifying the emerald green color. She lifted the back of her hand to her mouth, sucked in a sob and rushed into the house past two more movers. So much for not making a scene. Though, it could’ve been worse.

Jo looked heavenward, silently sending a prayer for help. A cool breeze brushed past, and she tightened her cardigan about her. She turned on her heel and marched inside. Her mother had vanished. She sure could move for a sixty-three-year-old lady.

One of the men from the moving company approached her. “You finally decided to let us do our jobs?”

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