Page 92 of The Wedding Ranch
“I’m stuffed,” she said, placing her napkin on the table. “That was a five-star meal.”
“I’m glad you liked it. I’ll pack up some leftovers for you. I always cook too much. I can’t seem to remedy that.”
“My lucky day.” She pushed her chair back. “I’ll help you clean up.”
“No. Let me do it, please? Make yourself at home.”
“You don’t mind?”
“No. It won’t take me but a few minutes. I’ve got a system. Then we’ll eat cobbler on the patio.”
“Okay, but no cobbler for Mister. I put my foot down on sweets.”
“Fine. You’re the boss.” He cleaned up and dished dessert into two small oval dishes. He used a melon scooper to put ice cream on each and then drizzled a thin line of dark chocolate across the top.
He walked out of the kitchen with the dessert, looking for Lorri. He saw her in the study standing at Valerie’s secretary, a piece her mom had found at an auction in Virginia. Lorri’s hand shook as she lifted the picture of Valerie and Ronnie Dwayne.
The silver frame had been a wedding present. Ornate and heavy. The black and white photo had been taken in the hayfield the summer before the wreck. He could still hear their laughter when he looked at it.
He wondered what she heard.
He watched her trembling fingers move from the pictureto the article that had run in the local paper. He wished he’d thought to put it away. His insides screamed for her to move away from it.
She did and he breathed a sigh.
Lorri must’ve heard him exhale. Her hands retreated to her sides.
With a forced smile she said, “You collect butterflies,” nodding toward the collection displayed in the glass shadow box hanging on the wall. “That’s how you knew that yellow one was a lisa that day when we were riding.”
“I don’t. My sister, Diane, used to collect them. She’s always loved them. I learned from her.” He walked over to a shelf. “Me? I collected rocks.”
“Rocks?”
“Mm-hmm. Still do sort of. When I was young, I could entertain myself all day long sifting through the gravel they brought for the driveway. It was a private road back then. I just knew I was going to find rubies and emeralds. As I got older, I learned about the gemstones that could be found here in North Carolina. I have a ton of them. This isn’t even half of them.” He pulled out small square drawers, one at a time. “Emeralds, jasper, rubies—”
“That’s not a ruby. Rubies are red.” She raised her hand, flaunting the ruby and diamond band on her right hand. “I know. They’re my birthstone.”
“It might not look like much in its raw form, but I assure you those are rubies. Come here.” He led her to his desk on the other side of the long room. He’d made it from a jeweler’s display case, using big chunky wooden legs from a table thathad seen better days, and the glass case as the top. Beneath that glass were all kinds of gems, some polished, others just piles of dusty rock, rough stones and cut ones, gold and silver clasps and catches. Projects in process lay sprawled in a collage. On top, his tools lay scattered on the leather mat.
He reached into the case and withdrew a single bluish-gray feather. “I found this while I was working one day. From the color and length, I think it might be from a blue heron. I’m not sure, but I thought it would make a pretty hat feather.” He handed it to her.
Her eyes lit. He’d attached tiny red gemstones somehow to the thick sturdy vein running down the center of the feather. “Are those rubies?”
“They are.”
“This is really neat. Where did you get the idea?”
“It just came to me one day. A way to put two things from nature together. I’ve always worn feathers in my cowboy hats, and this seemed like a nice way for a lady to do the same by making it prettier with the stones I’d collected.”
“You should sell these.”
“I just do it for fun. My sister has one. I made Reece a white one with pink quartz down the center. It turned out real nice. She says she gets compliments from customers all the time.”
“I’m sure she does. I’d love to see that one. Not that I wear hats, but I bet this would make a beautiful lapel pin or pendant on a long necklace.”
He lifted his hat from a hook on the wall and placed it on her head. He stepped back. “You look great in a hat.”
“Really?” She self-consciously reached up for it.
