Page 1 of No Rings Attached
Chapter One
DREW
Asingle bead of sweat traced a path down my neck. This old truck’s broken AC had me muttering expletives for the umpteenth time today. I wiped away the moisture with the back of my wrist, cursing this random hot spell the first week of November. Today’s unexpected detour, courtesy of my darling Glamma, had come at the worst time.
I sped up, and the last light of the pinkish-purple skyline appeared in my rearview mirror. A faint breeze blew through the open window, ruffling my hair, but doing little to cool me off.
Rhode Island’s fall weather was something else. One day was perfect and the next felt like the fiery pits of hell. And when it wasn’t either of those, it was raining.
It wasn’t the first time today I suspected this errand was a ruse to get me out of the office. Lately, I’d noticed a pattern. Glamma would ask me for an ‘important’ favor after I worked a series of twelve-to-fifteen-hour days. I tapped along to the song on the ancient AM/FM radio while mentally listing all the things I needed to do at the office tomorrow.
We were on the verge of a multi-million-dollar deal to grow our family’s high-end jewelry store. A century after opening, we were finally expanding across the U.S. with new branches. The production of our luxury costume jewelry would continue to be made in-house, but I also had thoughts about how we could improve that side of the business, too.
Next time I’d tell Glammano.
The running internal dialogue at the back of my mind snickered, knowing full well I’d never follow through. I knew better.
We all did.
My cell phone rang, pulling my attention briefly away from the road to the flashing screen on the seat beside me. An involuntary sigh escaped my lips.
Glamma.
I wouldn’t get any peace until I answered. Reluctantly, I activated its speakerphone. Not for the first time I wished I’d been driving my Mercedes, not this barely running hunk of metal. At least then I could hear her through the vehicle’s speakers.
“Hello, Grandmother,” I answered. My lips twisted into a smirk knowing it would irk her the tiniest bit that I didn’t call her by her preferred moniker.
She snort-laughed into the phone. “Hello,grandson.”Even though I was mostly teasing her with the formal title, she knew I wasn’t happy about being pulled away from work. “Are you almost home?”
I rolled my eyes. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see me. “I just passed the sign entering Ruby River.” My ancestors had been the first to settle our picturesque small town. The name was based on an old legend about the river that ran straight through the center of it.
“Good. That table was a favorite of your grandfather’s and I know the perfect place for it.”
A rumble of frustration escaped me. “Interesting. I thought the set of lamps you sent me to get two weeks ago had been his favorite.” We had a storage facility a few towns over that kept any family heirlooms we couldn’t use in my grandmother’s house. This time, though, I’d had to travel to the southernmost part of the state to my uncle’s house.
Not one to miss a beat, my grandmother responded. “They both are.”
“An old battered coffee table that Uncle Phil had in his attic was important to Grandad?” I didn’t bother to hide my skepticism.
“It’s an heirloom. I’m getting it restored.” As matriarch of the Kingsley family, Glamma got what she wanted. Always. Her fierce, unwavering personality and the wealth she gained after marrying my grandfather in her early twenties helped push whatever agenda she had.
She was also the type of person to never let money define her. And over the years, she and her friends had taken on shaping this town and managing its residents. Glamma thought she had a ‘knowing’about things. She fancied herself a love guru and played into the town’s lore about the magic of the river.
“And youneededit today?” Glamma was consistently two steps ahead of most of us. Her long-range plans were divulged to her friends. If she wanted me to know more about why I needed to be on this errand, she’d have told me.
“Gladys had an immediate opening at the shop for a restoration project.” Her quick, overly cheerful response, while plausible, led me to believe she wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“And Gladys couldn’t pick it up inhertruck?” Gladys, one of Glamma’s friends, owned the town’s antique shop just off Main Street and wasn’t as busy as my grandmother was making it out to be.
“Were you planning on dropping it off tonight? Tomorrow’s my day at Curl Up and Dye.” Her clear avoidance of my question was all the confirmation I needed.
Glamma’s marriage into the Kingsley family didn’t stop her from running her salon. I’d always wondered if it was a way to keep her independence. Or so she could get her fill of town gossip. Her favorite pastime had always been sticking her nose in everyone else’s business while insisting it was for the good of the town and its’ residents.
“If you want—Holy shit!” I slammed my foot down on the brake and swerved.
“Drew!” My grandmother’s shrill voice barely registered.
“Fuck, don’t lock up,” I muttered as the brakes engaged and the old hunk of junk I was driving rocked to a sudden stop. I cringed as the table I’d secured in the truck’s bed rammed into the back window.
