at it from every angle, and then returned it to my finger.
“There’s nothing,” he confirmed. He eyed the receipt once more. “I say we go to the designer. Maybe they have a copy of this receipt.”
I nodded, prompting Jared to gather the information and return it to the safe.
Jared and I drove to the address on the receipt, and I nervously twisted the ring around my finger as we pulled to a stop beside the curb. At first glance it appeared to be a typical jewelry store, not the underground, surreptitious establishment I had expected.
The bell on the door announced our arrival and a short, pudgy, elderly man with round glasses greeted us. Jared took my hand as we walked toward the glass display cases the man stood behind.
“Good morning. I am Vincent! You like diamonds? Sapphires? Rubies? Emeralds? Semi-precious stones? I have them all,” he gushed with a thick accent.
Jared squeezed my hand and introduced himself. “This is Nina…I’m Jared.”
Vincent didn’t skip a beat. “I’d be happy to help you with anything you need.” He paused to look at our hands intertwined and smiled. “Could I interest you in our exquisite line of engagement diamonds? I designed most of these,” he said, pointing out a long row of extravagant rings. “I can design one customary, if you wish.”
Jared looked at me with a soft expression, and then reluctantly turned his attention back to Vincent. “Not yet.”
Vincent smiled at me, and I felt the blood rise to the surface of my cheeks. “Ah, well, then. Another time.”
“You are the owner?” Jared asked.
Vincent chuckled, patting his protruding belly. “I am. Thirty-six years, now.”
Jared raised my hand, resting it on the surface of the glass encasement. “Do you recognize this ring?”
Vincent leaned down to get a better look. “Yes…yes…,” he hummed, elongating the words. “It has been awhile, has it not?” he asked, looking to me.
“My father purchased this from you three years ago,” I reminded him.
Vincent lifted my hand and angled it several different ways, proudly watching it sparkle in the bright lights above.
“Your father was a man of vision,” he said, smiling in approval.
Jared slid the receipt in front of Vincent. “This paper includes an engraving fee.”
“Yes, yes. I remember,” he said, pinching his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t ask questions, you know. I just make the customer happy.”
“But…there is no engraving on the ring,” I said.
He bellowed out a cheerful laugh. “There is, kisa. But it’s hidden, you see.” Vincent opened his hand, prompting me to give him my ring.
I sighed and looked to Jared, who offered a comforting smile. He took my hand and slowly pulled the ring off of my finger. Once Jared placed it in his hand, Vincent turned the ring upside down.
“He had it marked into the pavilion of the stone. The underbelly,” he explained, “very tiny…I had to send it away to a gentleman I know with a laser. I don’t have one of those here, of course,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“The engraving order has been covered. Do you have the original receipt?” Jared asked.
“No, no. I would have total in my books, only. If I remember correctly, it was letters and numbers. Gibberish that only made sense to your father, I assume.”
It seemed to be too easy. I felt I was in the middle of a cloak and dagger movie, happening upon the perfect clues at the perfect time, watching it come together in front of my eyes.
Jared tucked my hair behind my ear with an apologetic expression. “Vincent?” His eyes were hesitant to leave mine. “Can you remove the stone from the setting?”
I jerked my ring from Vincent’s open hand. “No!”
Jared pulled me out of ear shot. “Nina, if you want to see what Jack had put on this ring — and what Grahm wanted — we have to remove it from the setting to read it. He can reset it as if it were never touched.”
I pressed my lips together in frustration. We would have to see what was etched into the stone to make progress, and there was only one way to do it.
“There’s no other way?” I asked, knowing the answer.
Jared shook his head and opened his hand. I placed my ring in his palm and chewed on my lip.
“Can you do it?” he asked, setting the ring on the glass.
Vincent’s eyes moved from Jared to me, unsure of how to proceed. “I could remove the stone, but there is no guarantee we will be able to read what is there, you see what I say?”
Jared nodded. “Remove the stone.”
Vincent seemed suddenly disinclined. “It will be a few days before I can get to it. Write down your number and I will call you when—”
“I realize you’re busy, forgive me,” Jared said, pulling out his wallet. He set a small stack of hundred dollar bills on the glass, and Vincent’s eyes widened, jerking his head back up to Jared. “That is in addition to your fee, of course,” Jared added.
“You wait here…I’ll be just a moment.” Vincent gestured for us to sit on a short couch by the door, and then hurried to the back.
We waited together on the couch. A strange calm came over me, and I sighed when Jared began lightly caressing the top of my hand.
My eyebrows pulled in and my smile faded. “Jared?”
“Yes?” he said, playing with the strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail.
“Vincent called me kisa. It doesn’t mean ‘stupid’ or anything, does it?”
Jared burst into laughter. “No, sweetheart. I would never let anyone insult you that way.”
“What does it mean?”
Jared kissed my forehead. “It’s Russian. It means kitten.”
“Oh. That’s a relief.”
The minutes ticked by and I became increasingly anxious. I began pacing, and Jared watched me walk the length of the floor. A door shut behind me, and I flipped around. Vincent cupped the remnants of my ring in his plump hand.
Jared stood up and joined me at the display case. “Did you find anything?” he asked.
Vincent flattened a piece of paper in front of us with letters and numbers scribbled across it. He handed Jared a loupe and held out his hand for Jared to take the stone from his palm. Jared looked through the loupe at the stone, but pulled it away from his eyes, shaking his head.
“I can’t see anything,” he said, holding the peridot in front of him. Jared periodically looked down to the paper and back at the gem, placing it back into Vincent’s palm.
“You could see that without the loupe, eh?” Vincent chuckled. “These old eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
Jared took the paper and handed it to me. “What he has written is what is inscribed in the stone.” He looked to Vincent, then. “I’ll need that reset immediately, please.”
Vincent nodded and returned to the back, taking the pieces of the ring with him.
“Now what?” I asked, looking down at the paper.
825 2TR2TL223TR05
“Does it mean anything to you?” Jared asked, grimacing in thought.
“Eight twenty-five is my birthday…August twenty-fifth, but other than that…no.”
Within ten minutes, Vincent had returned. I sighed as I slid it back to its rightful place on my finger, looking exactly the same as it did before.
We returned to Jared’s loft for lunch. I sat on the counter staring at the piece of paper, hoping the answer would spontaneously pop into my mind.
“It’s going to catch fire if you keep staring at it like that,” Jared teased, pushing the stir fry around in the wok.
“He put it on something he knew would be safe, the last place anyone would look, that he always knew where it would be….”
