Page 3 of Chasing Sunsets

“Eight hundred, then,” she says, her voice rising slightly.

“Um, that’s a great price, but I still can’t,” I reply, picking up the bracelet and returning it to the box.

“How about five hundred?” she asks defeatedly.

I glance up to see her eyes filling with unshed tears as I close the box and hand it back to her.

She takes it, but instead of leaving, she reaches back into her purse and pulls out a ring. “What about this?” she asks, opening her palm to reveal a gorgeous vintage ring. “It’s a five-carat ruby in an antique yellow-gold Victorian setting with four diamond accents, but two diamonds are missing. It belonged to my grandmother,” she explains, a sniffle escaping her.

I take the ring from her hand. “This is magnificent,” I say. “Why would you want to sell it?”

“I don’t want to sell it, but I’m in a bind, and I need the money. It’s real and worth way more than a thousand dollars. You can check it,” she adds hopefully.

“I’m sure it is, but we don’t—” I start to say, but she cuts me off again.

“A thousand for both—the ring and the bracelet,” she offers. “Please.”

I bring my eyes back to hers and see her desperation. “I can’t take them both,” I say, and her face falls. “I’ll take the ring, but I insist you take fifteen hundred dollars,” I tell her.

“Deal!” she practically screams.

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” I say.

I walk over to the desk, drop the ring into the top drawer, and grab my wallet. After retrieving the five hundred dollars I earned in tips from yesterday’s charter, I place it in an envelope. I then make my way to Mom’s office, where I open the safe. I count out one thousand dollars and add it to my cash. Finally, I return to the counter with a receipt book and begin to fill it out.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Tabitha Harmony,” she replies.

“Phone number?” I inquire.

“I don’t have one,” she responds.

I look at her, puzzled. “You don’t have a phone?”

She shakes her head. “Not one that I use anymore,” she says cryptically.

“O-okay,” I murmur. “Do you have an address?” I ask next.

“Why do you need that?” she questions.

I shrug. “Just in case we need to contact you about the ring.”

“I’m staying at The Sandspur Campground at The Point,” she tells me.

“I know that place. Are you here on vacation?”

“Just passing through,” she replies.

“That’s a shame,” I say quietly.

“Excuse me?”

I look back at her. “I said, that’s a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” she asks, looking confused.

“That you’re just passing through.”

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