The Icing on the Cake (6 page)

“Is everyone ready to eat?” Mom asked, bringing me back to reality.

Everyone nodded, uttered various forms of “I’m starving,” and followed Mom to the dining room where I proceeded to drown my sorrows in twice baked potatoes and Mom’s famous raspberry cheesecake.

Okay, I know that diamonds probably shouldn’t be a girl’s
best
friend because that would be entirely too materialistic. But maybe they could be a girl’s
really good
friend. I mean, that would be okay, right?

“Of course that would be okay.” The diamonds honestly seemed to be whispering those words to me as Miles and I walked into John Wilfred at ten o’clock Saturday morning.

The place was a world of luxury. Deep-green plush carpeting. Golden light that cast a warm glow on everything. Gourmet chocolates and bottles of mineral water arranged beautifully on a large mahogany table. Spotless glass display cases filled with diamonds and other precious jewels. It was all just so incredible.

“Where shall we start?” Miles asked me after a moment.

I was torn. Did I want to start with the jewelry or the chocolates? Yes, I know I was technically there to shop for Carrie, but I might as well enjoy myself while I was at it, right?

Miles and I were promptly greeted by a short, dark-haired man in a black suit.

“How are you two today?” the man asked as he shook both of our hands firmly.

“Very well, thank you,” Miles replied.

I smiled politely and tried to stop my eyes from wandering to the display of diamond jewelry to the left.

“I’m Bryce,” the man introduced himself.

Miles and I both told Bryce our names.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Bryce asked.

“Yes indeed,” Miles said. “We are searching for an engagement ring.”

A bright smile formed on Bryce’s face. “You’ve come to the right place. Why don’t you come this way and we can take a look at the catalogue to get a good feel for what we’re looking for.” Bryce gestured toward the back of the store.

“All right then,” Miles said. He turned toward me to see if I was going to follow.

“I’ll just wait here,” I said.
And check out these rocks.

Miles nodded, and he and Bryce took off toward the back of the shop.

I immediately dashed over to the diamond display case. I bent forward, closely examining delicate rings and necklaces, earrings shaped like squares and tear drops, and tennis bracelets that no sensible woman would ever wear while playing tennis.

Absorbed in the world of sparkly beauty, I was unaware of a saleswoman approaching me until I saw a reflection of her knee-length black skirt and slender legs in the glass.

“Hello,” the woman said in a milky-smooth voice.

“Hi,” I responded, looking up from the display case. The woman had dark curly hair and an ivory complexion.

“Lisa Toriani.” The woman held out her hand for me to shake.

“Annabelle Pleasanton,” I said, shaking Lisa’s hand a little too loosely.

“Would you like to start trying some rings on while your fiancé is in the back?” Lisa asked me.

I let out a small chuckle. “Oh, no, he’s not my . . .” I let my voice trail off.

Yes, I should have finished the sentence with, “He’s not my fiancé. He’s going to propose to my best friend, and I’m here to help pick out her ring.” But instead, my good sense left me and I thought,
I wonder what it would it feel like to be ring shopping for my own ring rather than my best friend’s ring?
And before I knew what was happening, the word “sure” was coming out of my mouth.

“Do you prefer a platinum or gold setting?” Lisa asked me.

“Platinum,” I answered. I knew full well that Carrie wanted gold.

“Our platinum is in this case right here.” Lisa’s calf muscles flexed as she moved behind the display case I had been examining. “What type of cut would you like?” she asked as she unlocked the case.

“Definitely princess,” I answered, though I knew Carrie wanted a round.

Lisa slid the display case door open, and immediately my left ring finger started to itch.

“Most of our display rings are a size six. Will that be all right?” Lisa asked me.

“Oh sure, that’s fine,” I replied even though I wear a size seven. S
ix, seven; there can’t be that big of a difference. I want to try on some of these rings!

“So where shall we start?” Lisa asked.

I took my time gazing at the rings, which ranged from nice-looking pebble to heart-stopping rock.

Then I saw it. A princess cut, heart-stopping rock set in a thick band made of the shiniest platinum. I felt my breath get caught in my lungs.

“That one,” I said breathlessly as I pointed to the ring.

Lisa removed the ring from the case and handed it to me.

I began to slide the ring onto my finger slowly, carefully. As I did this I pictured my dream man on his knees in front of me. I pictured that it wasn’t me slipping the ring onto my finger, but him. And the weirdest part is the dream man I was picturing looked an awful lot like Isaac. But before I could get the ring all the way on and imagine myself exclaiming “Yes!” and kissing my dream man, the thing got stuck on my knuckle.

I forced a smile at Lisa as I tried to jam the ring onto my finger. Finally it moved. But the wonderful moment of at last having the ring on my hand was overshadowed by the fact that my finger began to go numb. And it kind of started to turn blue. Lisa looked at the ring and told me how gorgeous it looked on me. But all I could think about was what would happen if I lost my finger.

I was thinking about how much my life would change if I were left-ring-finger-less when I heard Miles’s voice, and it sounded close. “There she is,” he was saying.

I looked up and my eyes grew wide with panic. My pretend fiancé was heading toward me.

“Hi, Miles,” I squeaked when he reached my side.

“I believe I know where we should start,” Miles said to me. Luckily for me he was too focused on finding the perfect ring to notice how flustered I was.

Bryce the salesman pointed to the right. “Our high quality gold is this way,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said.

“Bryce,” Lisa said to the salesman in a women-know-best tone, “she has already indicated a preference for platinum.”

“She has?” Miles asked confusedly.

“Um, yeah, maybe,” I stammered. “What do you think about this ring?” I held my hand out like it was completely normal for the single friend to try on the rings.

Miles looked at the ring for no more than a second. “No,” he said briskly.

Lisa shot me a look that said I’m-so-sorry-you-have-such-a-horrible-f iance-who-won’t-buy-you-the-ring-of-your-dreams.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said to Miles, wrinkling my nose at the ring. “Why don’t you go look at the gold collection. I’ll be right over.”

Miles nodded a perplexed yet complying nod, and he and Bryce went to the right to look at the gold jewelry.

“Well,” I said to Lisa, “I guess that’s that.” With a sad look on my face, I tried to remove the ring from my finger. But it wasn’t budging.

Forcing an everything-is-all right look onto my face, I leaned down and pretended to examine the other jewelry in the display case. As I did this, I hid my hand and yanked on the ring a few more times. The thing would not come off.

My mind began to race with ideas for how to get the ring off my finger. I went over the options in my mind.

With my left hand resting on the top of the glass case and my eyes still searching the case to keep up the pretense that I was perusing the jewels, I reached into my bag with my right hand. I clutched the slippery hand lotion after only a moment. Then, so my hand would not be in Lisa’s line of vision as I attempted the ring-removal, I asked her to grab a ring from the very corner of the display case.

As soon as Lisa went in for the ring-retrieval, I squirted an ample amount of the lotion onto my left ring-finger. I pulled on the ring as hard as I could, and it went flying onto the floor. I swiftly bent down to pick up the ring and met Lisa’s eyes through the glass. She was looking at me as if I had absolutely no class and did not belong in a place like John Wilfred.

“My lotion is a little slippery,” I explained sheepishly as I straightened myself up. I handed Lisa the ring and noticed that the lotion had made a coating on the band. I avoided making eye contact with Lisa. “I think I’ll go look at the gold collection now,” I said.

I walked quickly toward Miles and Bryce, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Lisa cleaning the slimy lotion off the ring with a cloth and jewelry cleaner.

When I reached Miles, he was holding up a delicate gold ring with a round-cut diamond that looked like it was floating in the air. It was so Carrie.

“This is the ring,” Miles said to Bryce, his polished voice filled with emotion.

“It sure is,” I agreed as I approached.

Miles looked up at me and smiled the biggest smile I have ever seen.

O
ne of my job perks—actually, come to think of it, pretty much my only job perk—is a free gym membership.

Most of my coworkers use their gym memberships enthusiastically for the month of January and then quit. But not me. Since I am physically unable to pass up a bargain, I am at the gym, using my free membership, five times a week. Okay, more like three times a week.

The crazy thing is—and don’t tell Carrie I said this, because she has been trying to convince me of this for years—working out makes me feel great. I mean, now I can walk up long flights of stairs without huffing. And one time, when I saw this lady at the grocery store trying to pry two shopping carts apart from each other, I offered to help and just pulled those babies right apart.

So, after saying good-bye to a very content Miles in the John Wilfred parking lot, I headed to the gym for a little pre-dinner-with-Isaac workout.

After checking in with the extremely muscular guy at the front desk and changing into my workout wear, I headed to the cardio room where I saw that my favorite treadmill was free. And by favorite treadmill I mean the one from which I can hear the radio the best.

I hopped onto the treadmill, set the speed to 5 mph, and began jogging comfortably. As I jogged to the sound of an eighties pop song, I found myself thinking about Isaac. I probably should have stopped the thoughts, since they were potentially dangerous, but I just couldn’t.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that smile. Those hazel eyes. And I couldn’t get out of my head the fact that even though I barely knew the guy, when I was with him I felt, I don’t know, something.

A bit of sweat began to form on my forehead, and I dabbed at it with my fuzzy blue towel. I was in the middle of dabbing when I saw a woman I recognized enter the cardio room. A woman named Rona Bircheck.

Male heads turned as Rona sashayed into the room, her workout clothes clinging to her toned figure. Her shiny auburn hair was tied back in a perfectly smooth knot, and her green eyes were peering in my direction.

I quickly began rubbing my face with my towel, hoping this would conceal me from Rona’s view, but unfortunately, she had already spotted me. She swung her hips as she walked toward me.

I think it’s imperative that I tell you a little about Rona. Rona moved to the Monterey Bay area from Alpine, Utah, around the end of my senior year in high school. Rona was LDS, and Carrie and I were happy to finally have another LDS girl to hang out with. We quickly welcomed her into our circle of friends.

Being the end of our senior year, the prom was on everyone’s minds. Especially mine. I had been asked by Alex Michaels, the guy I had been crushing on for months, and I couldn’t wait. I think I looked at my dress, a black sequined beauty with cap sleeves—which I got on clearance at the mall—about fifty times a day. And I tried it on at least ten.

Well, Rona decided that she wanted Alex Michaels to be her boyfriend, and she didn’t wait until after the big dance to make it happen. I ended up spending prom night playing croquet with my parents in our backyard. Ever since then, things have been kind of . . . tense between us.

“Hi, Annabelle,” Rona said in her breathy voice as she approached me.

I stopped the treadmill and stepped off. “Hi, Rona.”

“So, I hear Carrie is getting married,” Rona said. Although Rona ruined my last year of high school, she’s never done anything rotten to Carrie, so she and Carrie are still pretty good friends. In fact, Carrie thinks Rona is wonderful.