Willow opened her eyes and stared at her bedroom ceiling. As usual, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t kick in straight away. But then she remembered. She always remembered. She rolled over and felt the tears well in her eyes, not even bothering to wipe them away as they tumbled down her cheeks.
Every morning, she allowed herself thirty minutes of feeling unbearably sad. Once that time was up, she didn’t dwell on it anymore for the rest of the day. It was a shit situation. There was nothing she could do about it. Life, as they say, went on.
***
The house was empty by the time she padded downstairs to the kitchen to make a late breakfast. She was glad that she hadn’t gone back to work when the school term had started a few weeks ago. She wasn’t quite ready to be there yet. The school had been great – very understanding – and organised a substitute teacher for the first few weeks of term. She had desperately wanted to take half a year off – travel, explore, take her mind off Robert – but she couldn’t do that. She needed the money too badly. Her parents had lent her some in order to cover the rent, but she was thirty-four, for goodness sake; too old to still be borrowing from her folks.
There was nothing inspiring in the fridge, so she decided to hit up the local grocery store for breakfast supplies.
That, as it turned out, was not a good idea. She had forgotten what the date was. 14th February. Fucking valentines day.
Willow hated valentines day at the best of times, but since her boyfriend had been killed in a very unfortunate accident not that long ago, her loathing for it was off the charts. She gritted her teeth as she stalked past long stem red roses, boxes of chocolates, and cheap looking stuffed animals that lined the entrance of the store. Thoughts of breakfast had disappeared and she knew there was only one thing that could make today bearable – a non-stop, epic, unadulterated baking frenzy. Willow bought candied fruit, dried fruit, preserved fruit, icing sugar, brown sugar, white sugar, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, soft cheese, hard cheese, almonds, pecans, cashews and anything else that could potentially be mixed with flour and cooked in the oven – she couldn’t really afford any of it, but damn the expense, this was an emergency! By the end of the the day she wanted cakes of all shapes and sizes on every available surface of her house, flour over every item of clothing she was wearing, and egg sticking to her hair.
The cashier – a young man, giddily in love with the girl from the Deli section – had a huge smile on his face when Willow approached with her laden trolley.
“Happy Val…”
“Don’t even think about it!” Willow held up her hand and looked at the boy sternly.
His face fell and he quickly rung up her purchases.
***
It was only a short four block stroll home, but Willow was struggling with the shopping bags, having to stop every couple of metres to rearrange them.
“Do you want a lift?”
She turned to see a silver Mercedes glide up next to her and stop. The door swung open and Robert’s sister Marion stepped out.
“I’m fine,” said Willow, trying to remain calm. Robert’s sisters had been anything but friendly to her, accusing her – in not so many words – of being a money grabbing whore. They had barely spoken two words to her at the funeral.
“I was on my way to see you anyway,” said Marion, picking up some of the bags by Willow’s feet. “It’s no problem.”
Before Willow could protest again, the bags – and her – were loaded into the car.
***
“I brought these for you, from our garden,” Marion said once they were in Willow’s kitchen. She handed over a bag of fragrant lemons. “As an… apology of sorts.”
Willow didn’t say anything, but accepted the bag.
“I really am very sorry for the way we treated you,” Marion said. “It was the shock and… oh, just everything that was going on was too much. I’m so ashamed and I hope you can forgive me.”
Willow looked at her. Marion seemed as though she were genuine enough.
“Do you mind if I bake?” Willow said finally.
***
They didn’t talk at all while Willow carefully made an almond meal and ricotta lemon cake. It was only after the kitchen was filled with wonderful, warm smells of baking vanilla, honey and citrus that Marion finally broke the silence.
“I have something else for you.” Marion reached into her handbag and pulled out a small turquoise box, placing it on the counter in front of Willow. “Robert had it on him when he died,” she said softly. “It was for you.”
Willow’s heart began to pound. She knew what came in boxes that size and colour. She shook her head. “Take it away. I don’t want it.”
“But it’s yours,” Marion said, confused. “He bought it for you.”
“I don’t care.” Willow’s voice was raised and she was starting to feel slightly manic. “This is hard enough as it is. I don’t want to know that… I just don’t want to know.”
“You don’t have to keep it,” Marion said. “I know that Robert would have wanted you to do something with it. You could sell it and use the money for something that you’ve always wanted to do. Here…” she rummaged around in her bag. “This is the name of the store that he got it from. I’ve spoken to them and they are happy to buy it back – not for the full price, of course, but…”
Willow just sat there shaking her head. Marion sighed. Any doubts she had about Willow’s genuine intentions towards her brother had totally disappeared. I mean, who turns down an antique Tiffany ring?
“I told Sam this was found on Robert’s body,” Marion said. “He knew already. He knew that Robert was going to…propose. He was the one who insisted that you – and no-one else – should decide what happens to it.”
Willow felt tears running down her cheeks again. Dammit! She didn’t want to feel like this anymore.
“Please Willow,” Marion said gently. “Accept it. It’s what Robert would have wanted.”
Marion picked up her bag and walked out the front door, leaving Willow alone with the box.
***
Once seven cakes had been made and were cooling on the table, Willow finally felt calm enough to to open the box.
Inside was the most ludicrously large diamond she had ever seen, surrounded by other ludicrously large diamonds and sapphires, set beautifully into a platinum band. It looked antique – art deco probably – but not old; someone had obviously taken very good care of it. She slipped it on her finger without realising what she was doing. It fitted perfectly and looked… well, perfect. It was the perfect Willow ring.
***
She allowed herself one night of wearing the ring before she took it to the jewellery store Marion had suggested. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, but she knew that if she kept it she would never be able to get on with her life. It was a hard choice, but it was the right one.
The store was one of those ones that had more security guards than people. They had to buzz her in and out.
“Ah yes,” the jeweler said, giving Willow a sad look. “The Art Deco Tiffany ring. Would you like to browse while we make the arrangements?”
Willow shook her head and went to have a coffee while she waited for them to do the evaluation and draw up a cheque. She suspected the ring was worth a bit – thousands probably. Maybe she could take some more time off work, after all?
***
She was handed an envelope when she came back to the store.
“Do you want to make sure the details are correct?” the jeweler asked when she made no move to open the envelope.
Willow shook her head again.
It wasn’t until she was sitting in the botanical gardens, the sunshine on her back, with a bottle of Robert’s favourite champagne that she let her attention be drawn to the envelope. She carefully opened the flap and looked at the figure written on the paper inside. Placing it back in her bag, she silently poured herself a large glass of champagne.
***