The Sky Beneath Her(49)

As we got out of the car, Mom pulled two rumpled twenty-dollar bills from her jeans pocket. “Tula, go buy yourself something.”

A little surprised, I studied the money. “You never just give me money.”

“I am today.”

“Why?”

Her expression looked strained. “Just because, honey.”

Honey. She never called me honey. “What’re you going to do?”

“I’m meeting someone for coffee at the café.”

“Who?”

“Someone about the dive.”

“A diver?”

“He’s interested in what I’m doing. It won’t take long. Find me in the next hour.”

It wasn’t like her to give vague answers, so I assumed she might be meeting a guy she liked. Naturally inquisitive, I asked, “Is this person a sponsor or a diver?”

“No one you know. It’ll be boring, and I know how you hate the business side of what I do.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t like business either.”

A smile didn’t soften the intensity in her gaze. “Fair point. But sometimes, I must take care of it.” She laid her hand on my shoulder. “Just shop and have fun, okay?”

“Is this my birthday present?”

A blank look in her gaze came and went quickly. “It sure is.”

“My birthday is in June, Mom.”

“So, I’m a little early for once.” She’d never been great about remembering special days, but I was used to her wishing me a happy birthday a week late. She was doing something nice now, and that was what counted, right? “Okay, I’ll find you.”

“Take your time.”

I watched her vanish down the boardwalk toward the café. I was tempted to follow and see who she was meeting, but the idea of shopping was too exciting. I was rarely in a town large enough for malls or shops. Most towns where we stayed were small, and the only shopping consisted of T-shirts, beads, or sarongs.

As I wandered past the shops with sandals, trinkets, and candy, I ducked into a dress shop. I realized quickly the forty bucks would only go so far.

I took time to try on dresses, but as much as I liked them, I couldn’t afford the new seasonal prices. I moved to a jewelry shop filled with necklaces made of glass beads, shells, and random bits of metal. These weren’t like the ones I’d seen on the islands.

I was drawn to the display case filled with the better necklaces, which contained silver, nicer crystals, and a little gold. In the center of the case was a necklace made with a silver chain and a small shard of sea glass.

“Can I look at that one?” I asked.

The older woman had gray hair that brushed the shoulders of her tie-dyed T-shirt. Bangles circled her neck and wrists. “Sure.”

She unlocked the case and lifted the sea-glass necklace off the velvet base. The rectangular white, smooth glass was less than a half inch long and arrowed into a point. I unhooked the silver clasp and secured it around my neck. The glass felt cool against my skin.

“It looks great on you,” the clerk said.

I fingered the price tag, almost afraid to look. When I flipped it over and leaned toward a mirror, I noticed the paper tag was empty. “How much is this necklace?”

She leaned forward, squinted, and searched for a price. When she saw none, she shrugged. “Thirty bucks.”

“Who made this?”

“We’ve got a local guy who scans the beaches with his metal detector for coins and anything that he thinks might look good on a necklace. He also collects a lot of sea glass. It must be one of his finds.”

I smoothed my finger over the silver chain. I wasn’t a jewelry person. I’d never had luck with trinkets like these. When I’d save up the bits of tip money I’d received from divers, I’d buy the cheapest ones I could find in beach huts. Inevitability, I’d lose the necklace or bracelet on a dive or see the strand break and the beads scatter around me. But I liked this necklace, even though the cost would eat up most of my newfound wealth.

“The color looks good against your skin,” she said.

I gently tugged the chain, testing it. It held and didn’t give. Still, thirty bucks. And I had several more shops to see. The sea glass caught the light. The rumpled bills had been in my pocket barely an hour before I was smoothing them out on the counter and sliding them across to the clerk.

She made change, and as I pocketed it, she found a small pair of scissors and clipped off the tag. “You down here for spring break?”

It was early May, and the beaches were full of college kids willing to lie out in cool weather to catch a few sunrays. “No, my mom is working here this spring.” Many seasonal workers were flooding into the barrier islands.

“What does she do?”

“She’s going to dive a shipwreck. The Oceanus.”

“We have so many shipwrecks around here. Where is it?”

“Close to here.” I studied the necklace in the mirror. The glass winked in the sunlight and reflected off the case. “Less than three miles offshore.”

“Sounds pretty fun.”

A wreck dive was now mundane to me. “It’s what she’s always done.”

“You going to dive the wreck?”

“I’m in school now. Maybe on the weekend.”