{"id":902,"date":"2012-02-14T06:00:23","date_gmt":"2012-02-14T14:00:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/?p=902"},"modified":"2013-10-01T12:41:58","modified_gmt":"2013-10-01T19:41:58","slug":"season-5-episode-5","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/?p=902","title":{"rendered":"Season 5: Episode 5"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Willow opened her eyes and stared at her bedroom ceiling. As usual, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach didn\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n

Every morning, she allowed herself thirty minutes of feeling unbearably sad. Once that time was up, she didn\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The house was empty by the time she padded downstairs to the kitchen to make a late breakfast. She was glad that she hadn\u2019t gone back to work when the school term had started a few weeks ago. She wasn\u2019t 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\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n

There was nothing inspiring in the fridge, so she decided to hit up the local grocery store for breakfast supplies.<\/p>\n

That, as it turned out, was not a good idea. She had forgotten what the date was. 14th February. Fucking valentines day.<\/p>\n

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\u00a0 – she couldn\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cHappy Val\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t even think about it!\u201d Willow held up her hand and looked at the boy sternly.<\/p>\n

His face fell and he quickly rung up her purchases.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want a lift?\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned to see a silver Mercedes glide up next to her and stop. The door swung open and Robert\u2019s sister Marion stepped out.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d said Willow, trying to remain calm. Robert\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was on my way to see you anyway,\u201d said Marion, picking up some of the bags by Willow\u2019s feet. \u201cIt\u2019s no problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before Willow could protest again, the bags – and her – were loaded into the car.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u201cI brought these for you, from our garden,\u201d Marion said once they were in Willow\u2019s kitchen. She handed over a bag of fragrant lemons. \u201cAs an\u2026 apology of sorts.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willow didn\u2019t say anything, but accepted the bag.<\/p>\n

\u201cI really am very sorry for the way we treated you,\u201d Marion said. \u201cIt was the shock and\u2026 oh, just everything that was going on was too much. I\u2019m so ashamed and I hope you can forgive me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willow looked at her. Marion seemed as though she were genuine enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you mind if I bake?\u201d Willow said finally.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

They didn\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have something else for you.\u201d Marion reached into her handbag and pulled out a small turquoise box, placing it on the counter in front of Willow. \u201cRobert had it on him when he died,\u201d she said softly. \u201cIt was for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willow\u2019s heart began to pound. She knew what came in boxes that size and colour. She shook her head. \u201cTake it away. I don\u2019t want it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s yours,\u201d Marion said, confused. \u201cHe bought it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d Willow\u2019s voice was raised and she was starting to feel slightly manic. \u201cThis is hard enough as it is. I don\u2019t want to know that\u2026 I just don\u2019t want to know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to keep it,\u201d Marion said. \u201cI know that Robert would have wanted you to do something with it. You could sell it and use the money for something that you\u2019ve always wanted to do. Here\u2026\u201d she rummaged around in her bag. \u201cThis is the name of the store that he got it from. I\u2019ve spoken to them and they are happy to buy it back – not for the full price, of course, but\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Willow just sat there shaking her head. Marion sighed. Any doubts she had about Willow\u2019s genuine intentions towards her brother had totally disappeared. I mean, who turns down an antique Tiffany ring?<\/p>\n

\u201cI told Sam this was found on Robert\u2019s body,\u201d Marion said. \u201cHe knew already. He knew that Robert was going to\u2026propose. He was the one who insisted that you – and no-one else – should decide what happens to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willow felt tears running down her cheeks again. Dammit! She didn\u2019t want to feel like this anymore.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease Willow,\u201d Marion said gently. \u201cAccept it. It\u2019s what Robert would have wanted.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marion picked up her bag and walked out the front door, leaving Willow alone with the box.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Once seven cakes had been made and were cooling on the table, Willow finally felt calm enough to to open the box.<\/p>\n

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\u2026 well, perfect. It was the perfect Willow ring.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

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\u2019d 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.<\/p>\n

The store was one of those ones that had more security guards than people. They had to buzz her in and out.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh yes,\u201d the jeweler said, giving Willow a sad look. \u201cThe Art Deco Tiffany ring. Would you like to browse while we make the arrangements?\u201d<\/p>\n

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?<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

She was handed an envelope when she came back to the store.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want to make sure the details are correct?\u201d the jeweler asked when she made no move to open the envelope.<\/p>\n

Willow shook her head again.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t until she was sitting in the botanical gardens, the sunshine on her back, with a bottle of Robert\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Willow opened her eyes and stared at her bedroom ceiling. As usual, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach didn\u2019t 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 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_s2mail":"yes"},"categories":[202],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/902"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=902"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/902\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1294,"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/902\/revisions\/1294"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=902"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=902"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ravenoustales.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=902"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}