Jameson looked at Grayson. Neither one of them actually wanted to say it.
“We need your daughter’s wedding ring,” I told her evenly. “So that we can trade it for your son-in-law’s.”
Nan harrumphed. “Zara always was a strange, quiet little thing.”
“I feel a story coming on.” Xander rubbed his hands together. “Nan tells the best stories.”
Nan swiped at him with her cane. “Don’t you try to butter me up, Alexander Hawthorne.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Xander asked innocently.
Nan scowled, but she couldn’t resist a captive audience. “Zara was a shy, bookish child. Not like my Alice, who loved attention. I remember when Alice was pregnant with Zara, how giddy she was at the thought of having a little girl of her own to spoil.” Nan shook her head. “But Zara never took much to spoiling. It drove my Alice up the wall. I used to tell her that the girl was just sensitive, that all she needed was some toughening up. I told her Skye was the one to worry about. That child came out of the womb tap-dancing.”
I thought about the picture of Toby, Zara, and Skye. They’d looked so happy—before Toby had found out about the secrets and lies, before Skye had gotten pregnant with Nash, before Zara had gone from quiet and bookish to the cold, hypercontrolled force she was now.
“About that ring,” Jameson said, turning on the charm. “The old man left Zara the same bequest in multiple wills: his wedding ring, may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother. That ring is a clue.”
“Not much of one. Steadfastly?” Nan grunted. “Wholly? Leaving his own daughter nothing but a damned wedding ring? Tobias never was as subtle as he liked to think.”
It took me a second to understand what she was implying. He left Zara his wedding ring and a message about being steadfast in love to make a point.
“Constantine is Zara’s second husband.” Grayson didn’t miss much. “Twenty years ago, when Toby disappeared, Zara was married to someone else.”
“She was having an affair.” Xander didn’t phrase that as a question.
Nan turned back toward the window and stared out at the estate. “I’ll give you Alice’s ring,” she said abruptly. She began walking slowly toward the doorway, and I saw Eli standing just outside. “When you give it to her, you tell Zara that she’ll get no judgment from me. She’s toughened up just fine, and we all do what we have to do to survive.”
CHAPTER 52
Alice Hawthorne’s wedding ring wasn’t what I’d pictured. The diamond, singular, was small. The bands, which had been soldered together, were thin and made of gold. I’d been expecting platinum and a stone the size of my knuckle, but this wasn’t ostentatious.
It looked like it had cost a few hundred dollars at most.
“You should take it to her.” Jameson looked from the ring to my face. “Alone, Heiress. Zara clearly sees this as an issue between her and you.”
I saw something inside the band then. 8-3-75. A date, I thought. August third, nineteen seventy-five. Their wedding date?
“Avery?” Grayson must have seen something on my face. “Is everything okay?”
I took my phone out and snapped a picture of the inside of the ring. “Time to make a trade.”
“Nan just… gave it to you?” Zara somehow managed not to choke on those words. “Legally. She transferred its ownership to you.”
I got the feeling that this could go south very quickly, so I reiterated why I was here. “Nan gave me this ring to trade you for your father’s ring.”
Zara’s eyes closed. I wondered what she was thinking, what she was remembering. Finally, Zara reached for a delicate chain around her neck and pulled a thick silver band out from underneath her lacy dress-shirt. She closed her fist over it, then opened her eyes. “My father’s ring,” she agreed hoarsely, “in exchange for my mother’s.”
Her hands shook as she undid the clasp on the chain. I handed her Alice Hawthorne’s ring, and she handed me the old man’s. Unable to resist the impulse, I turned the ring in my hand, looking for an inscription, and there it was—another date. 9-7-48.
“His date of birth?” I asked, taking a stab in the dark.
Zara didn’t have to glance down at the ring to know what I was talking about. This was the only thing her father had left her. I had no doubt she’d been over it with a fine-tooth comb.
“No,” Zara said stiffly.