Page 4 of Chasing Sunsets

She smiles shyly, and a blush creeps up her neck.

I tear off the receipt and place it inside the envelope with the money. Then, I write my name and phone number on the front before handing it to her. She takes it and glances at my name, and her eyes meet mine.

“Just in case you need to contact me,” I say.

She nods and replies, “Thank you, Anson Leggett,” before tucking the envelope into her bag and leaving the store.

I watch as she climbs onto a yellow bicycle and rides away down the road. I probably won’t see her again, but, damn, I really hope I do.

Mom returns an hour later. “I picked up lunch,” she says as she places a brown paper sack on the desk. “Tacos from The Salty Hammock.”

“My favorite,” I say as I dig in.

“How did things go while I was gone? Did you sell anything?” she asks, heading toward her office.

“A lady came in and bought one of the silver charm anklets,” I reply. “Oh, and I owe you a thousand dollars.”

“You what?” she exclaims.

“I owe you a thousand dollars. I needed to buy something that was fifteen hundred and didn’t have enough cash on me. I took it from the safe.”

“Anson Michael Leggett,” she shouts as she returns to the front of the shop.

“No need to pull out my full name, Mom. I’m going to walk over to the bank as soon as I finish this taco and get the cash,” I assure her.

“That’s not the point.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again, but it was for someone in need. They thought this was a pawnshop and just needed a little help,” I explain.

“You could have told them that we weren’t a pawnshop and sent them to one,” she points out.

“The closest one I could think of is in Wilmington, and she was on a bicycle.”

“She. How did I know it was a she?” she says.

“I barely noticed.”

“I doubt that. Fine. What did she have that conned you out of fifteen hundred dollars?”

“She said it was a ruby,” I say as I reach inside the drawer to retrieve the ring and hand it to her. “It’s probably not real.”

She blinks as she looks down at the exotic piece and sighs.

“It’s pretty, but it’s most likely synthetic or imitation, not a natural ruby,” she says as she takes it between her fingers and holds it up to the light. “Wait,” she says, then turns and goes to retrieve her loupe. She brings the magnifier to her right eye and turns the dial as she examines the stone. “Anson, I believe this is a Burmese ruby,” she says. “It has the distinct pigeon blood-red color and visible silk inclusions.”

“Is that a good thing?” I ask.

She takes the loupe from her eye and glances back at me. “It’s a very good thing. It’s a high-quality stone that is very expensive. And this setting is stunning. She should have never sold it for that price.”

“She tried to sell it and a tennis bracelet for a thousand. I made her keep the bracelet and take the fifteen hundred,” I tell her.

“What do you plan to do with it?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Hold on to it for now, I guess.”

“You could sell it to me. I’ll give you five hundred, and we’ll call it even,” she offers.

I shake my head and laugh. “No way. Give me that,” I say as I walk over and snatch it from her. “I can’t believe my own mother is trying to hustle me.”

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