The Ring

Shopping at the market area during the fall time was always a favorite of mine. The hustle and bustle of people in the streets, the aroma of hot apple cider wafting through the air, and the bright coppery colors of fall clothing in store windows. I arrived at the market place and parked my car, then strolled across the streets and gazed at the people as they walked by. I shopped at my favorite stores, and one of them was an old-fashioned candy shop on a not-so-busy street corner. I left the store munching on a snack-sized chocolate fudge sample when something caught my eye. I looked up to see a store I’d never seen before and it captured my curiosity.

I finished the fudge and threw away the wrapper, before crossing the street to the unfamiliar shop. I went in to be greeted by the crystal chiming of a doorbell above my head. To my right was a counter and a plump petite woman in her late 60’s stood behind it.

“Hello dear, do you need help finding anything today?” the woman asked me as I walked in.

“No, I’m just looking,” I answered with a soft smile.

“You’re awfully beautiful,” the woman said suddenly.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling slightly bugged out. When I headed further into the store, I noticed ancient books lined shelves, while historical artifacts stood immobile in dusty cases. I could sense the woman’s eyes watching as I looked, sending a chill down my back. I soon entered a smaller room and eyed a glass case with rings placed in velvet holders. They sparkled brilliantly despite the lack of bright lighting within the room. I scanned each piece of jewelry when I fixed my sight on one of the rings. It had a dark blue stone with little specks of gold set in a silver shank. I didn’t see a price for the ring like the others did. No little white tag, nothing.

The woman at the counter had wandered into the room and I turned to her.

“How much for this ring with the blue stone?” I asked, pointing. The woman stepped forward and peered into the glass.

“Ah, this one never received a price. It belonged to my granddaughter who I lost last year in a car accident. I just can’t bear to look at the ring anymore,” the woman answered woefully.

“Here, I’ll pay for it,” I said, grabbing my wallet and pulling out sixty dollars.

“Oh, no child. Tell you what, I’ll give you the ring for free,” she said.

“No, I can’t. It’d feel like stealing to me,” I answered in a soft tone.

“You just look so much like my granddaughter, so please take it,” the woman said. I thought for a moment and gave in.

“Alright,” I said and put my money away. The woman went behind the counter and slid the glass door away and picked up the ring. She handed it to me and I slipped it on my ring finger. It fit snug against my finger. I smiled and looked at her. “Thank you,” I said.

“No need to thank me, it’s yours now,” she answered. I checked the time and saw it was getting late.

“I better head off. Thank you for the ring,” I said and waved goodbye. I walked away still feeling the woman’s eyes watching once more as I left. As I headed out of the store, a warmth covered my ring finger. I looked down to realize the blue stone in the ring was glowing.