One Heck Of A Story

One Heck Of A Story(Tom Di Roma) One Heck Of A Story

30 years ago, I lost my pre-engagement ring in the surf of Virginia Beach. Luckily, it wasn’t a tragic loss. Even though it looked really expensive, large teardrop-shaped green and white purl surrounded by what looked like real diamonds, the ring cost only five bucks in a local gift shop. At the time, both Jason and I were still in college, so, neither of us had a lot of money to spend on expensive jewelry. Eventually, Jason was able to afford a more substantial trinket for my finger.
Years passed, during which, we moved to the opposite coast, got jobs, married, and raised two kids. Then one day, while we were strolling through our town, a gleaming diamond-encrusted ring in the window of a pawnshop caught my eye.
“Stop!” I insisted, tugging Jason’s arm.
“What’s the matter?”
Pointing at the window, I said, “Do you see that?”
“What?”
Indicating a narrow, blue felt-covered box that held a display of rings, I said, “That.”
Cupping his hands around his face, my husband pressed against the window. “Well, I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed, then turned to me, his green eyes bulging slightly behind his glasses. “It can’t be, can it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see how, but if it is, the last place I’d expect it to be is in a pawn shop.”
“I’ll agree, but let’s see what they say inside.”
“Can I help you?” asked the elderly clerk behind the counter. He was old and wrinkly, but his smile seemed youthful somehow.
Jason spoke up. “You have a ring in the window?”
“Which one are you talking about?”
“The one with the teardrop-shaped green and white purl surrounded by what looks like real diamonds.”
The shopkeeper’s smile widened. “Oh, that one.” He nodded. “You interested in buying it?”
Before my husband could reply, I told him, “No, but we’re wondering where you got it?”
Stepping out from behind the counter, we watched as he went over to the box and removed the ring. Balancing it on the palm of his hand, he looked down at it with obvious affection. “There’s a story behind this one.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Thirty years ago, my 4-year old daughter, Nell, found it in the sand on Virginia Beach.”
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!” I said, staring at him, my head spinning.
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Thirty years ago, before my boyfriend became my husband, we were vacationing in Virginia Beach. That’s where I lost my pre-engagement ring. Even though it looked expensive, exactly like that ring you’re holding now, it cost only five bucks in one of the gift shops. You and your daughter must have been there at the same time we were!”
The old man’s eyebrows rose. “That’s got to be one heck of a coincidence,” he exclaimed. “Imagine you being there at the same time as Nell and I, and now, showing up here years later and asking about the ring.” He shook his head. “When I tell Nell, she’s not going to believe it.”
“Speaking of your daughter,” said Jason, “where is she now?”
“She lives upstate with her family, but I talk to her almost everyday.” Then glancing one more time at the ring, he pushed it towards me. “If you think it’s the same one you lost, you want it back?”
I shook my head. “No, you can keep it, but why do you display it in the window with the other rings?”
“Because, like you, it catches peoples’ attention. They think it’s really expensive.”
I nodded. “That’s what my husband and I thought when we first saw it.”
Before we left the shop, Jason gave Sam, the owner, his business card (My husband is the editor of our local newspaper.), which was how Sam knew where to send the photo. It’s an 8-by10 shot of my pre-engagement ring. He even went so far as to have it framed. I didn’t think he needed to do that, but because of the frame, I decided to hang it on the wall facing our dining room table.
Whenever guests come to visit, the photo makes for one heck of a story.