"What did you say?" Howard asked, his tone bland.
The beefy-faced salesman leaned complacently on the glass counter and repeated himself, his tone mild. "I said, Arlin Jewelers doesn't do business with Negroes, sir. If your gal would simply step outside for a bit, I'd be happy to show you the top of our line. It's simply company policy, you see."
"I thought that's what you said. How about if I buy this place and throw you out on your fat bigoted ass?"
The salesman flushed; Wanda laid a gloved hand on Howard's arm. "Mistah Stark—" she murmured warningly.
He shot her a glance. "Miss Franklin, take a note. Get Harvey in Acquisitions over to our developers and see how much it would cost to get this corner of real estate."
"Sir! If you're threatening me, I'm going to have to call the police!" the salesman blustered, but Howard glared him into silence.
"I'm not threatening. And for the record, Miss Franklin here is a college graduate, speaks fluent French and has traveled to Europe, South America and Canada. She isn't a 'gal,' a 'girl,' or any other slur you and your damned business uses."
"Mr. Stark? Mr. Howard Stark?" the salesman, belatedly realizing his commission was slipping away changed his tone to a wheedle. "Sir, I'm so sorry . . . I didn't realize . . ."
Howard clapped his Fedora back on his head. "That's right, you didn't, pal. You may have the right to refuse service, but I've got the right to spend my sixty thousand at another store." He stalked out of Arlin Jewelers, Wanda on his heels, and it took half a block before he slowed down enough for her to catch up.
Wanda finally managed to cut in front of him, making Howard stop short on his stride. Her chin was high and her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Thank you, Mistah Stark."
He gave a shrug. "What an asshole."
"Yes, well that's life, boss," she reminded him quietly. "And kind as you are, this isn't gettin' us any closer to finding Miss Maria a ring."
"Yeah, yeah," Howard agreed. He looked to the street where Armando was pulling the limo up for them. "But honestly Wanda, I don't get it. Back when I was in the big one, I learned damned early to appreciate people for who they were on the inside."
"That's what makes you the bettah man," Wanda smiled. "Where you um, serious about-" She gave a wave towards the jewelers back at the end of the block as Howard held the car door open for her. He helped her in and followed, giving Armando the nod to drive on before replying.
"Sure. Why the hell not? We'll pick it up and donate the place to the NAACP," Howard told her. "Next place on the list?"
Wanda pulled out a steno pad from her purse. "Rubenstein and Sons, over on K Street. They do a lot of business with New York, so their diamonds stock is probably extensive."
"Good," Howard nodded. "Damn this ring shopping is hard work. I wish there was a catalog or something where I could just pick something out while at my desk."
Wanda tutted, still smirking. "That's not terribly romantic, Boss."
"It would be a lot faster."
-oo00oo-
Rubenstein and Sons was a small but elegant shop with barred windows and a door like a portcullis. Howard ushered Wanda into the dim light, breathing in the scent of velvet and wax. It was cool and quiet, and Howard felt himself relaxing in the peace. A series of glass display counters ran along the walls, and a lovely red Persian rug covered the floor.
"Good morning," came the soft greeting. "I'm Esther Rubinstein. How may I help you today?" The woman slipped through a curtained doorway and beamed at Howard and Wanda. She had a grey dress with a lace collar, and her white hair was in a coronet of braids.
"Good morning. I'm looking for . . ." Howard turned to Wanda, who pulled out her steno pad once more.
"Mistah Stark here is looking for an engagement ring consisting of a two to three carat diamond in a white gold or platinum band," Wanda dutifully read. "He's partial to a round cut, although he's willin' to look at anything you might suggest."
Esther Rubinstein nodded thoughtfully. "How lovely to have someone who knows what they want! All right, I have several selections that might do . . . please, have a seat at the table and I'll bring them out."
She disappeared behind the curtain again, leaving Howard and Wanda to step over to a wooden table of inlaid wood. Howard pulled out a chair for her. "I like this place already."
"Classy," Wanda agreed, pulling off her gloves.
Esther Rubinstein returned a few moments later bearing a tray that held four small boxes. She set the tray down and settled herself into the empty chair, looking from one face to the other. "All right. The first thing I must ask is ring size. Do you know what size your beloved wears?"
Howard looked at Esther Rubinstein. "Small. Petite. Little."
The jeweler laughed. "Spoken like a man."
Howard looked at Wanda.
"Miss Carbonell wears a size five and a half," Wanda told him.
"Thank you, Miss Franklin," Howard rolled his eyes, feeling his face flush a little. Esther Rubinstein was smiling as she opened one of the boxes.
"We here at Rubinstein and Sons can resize any of these of course. Now this is a ring that meets your specifications: white gold, eighteen carat, with a round two and a quarter carat white diamond in a Tiffany mount. It's a lovely piece."
It was; even Howard nodded, but for all its charms the ring didn't move him. Sensing that, Esther opened another box, revealing a second ring. "This one is a bit more ornate, with two half-carat chips on either side of the center stone . . ."
Gradually Esther opened all the boxes, but none of the rings seemed quite right, and Howard laughed inwardly at his own stubborn reluctance. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to be engaged; no, he was more than ready for this commitment to Maria. It was wanting the symbol of that commitment to be . . . perfect.
He sighed after the last box and shook his head. "Ma'am, they're all lovely, really, but none of them are quite . . . right. Maria, well . . . she's unique. I never thought I'd find anyone like her and now that I have, I want the ring to be everything she is."
Wanda gave him a slightly astonished look, but Esther nodded sagely. "Well said, Mr. Stark. Because you are taking the time to find this ring yourself, I have one in particular to show you. It's not round," Esther told him, "but there are qualities to it that are as you say, unique."
She came back a few moments later, not with a box, but with a small velvet pouch. With care, Esther opened it into Howard's hand, and a small ring tumbled into his palm. He held it up, and at that precise moment, a shaft of sunlight hit the stone, sending out a rainbow of color against the tabletop, dazzling them all.
"Wow," Howard breathed, impressed. Esther nodded, her gaze caught between wonder and acknowledgement.
"Indeed. If I didn't know better, I would believe this particular stone has . . . a personality," she murmured.
"It's beautiful," Wanda added. "Square, though."
"Asscher is the cut," Esther told her. "Not common for a diamond, unless you count the Hope. This stone is a two carat one from South America, and was cut in Antwerp nearly fifty-five years ago. We acquired it just after the Second World War and I've shown it to only three potential customers in all that time."
Howard shifted his gaze to her. "Really?"
"Really. This ring isn't cut for fire; it's cut for luster," Esther replied quietly. "For a love that is greater than what shows on the surface. Call me sentimental, but this is one of the few rings that I feel is more than just stone and metal." She shrugged, a little embarrassed, but Howard nodded, his gaze turning back to the sparkle of sunlight against the diamond.
"Yes," he told her. "It's the one."
Esther smiled again. "Somehow, I thought it would be."
-oo00oo-
Maria tried to relax, but from the look in Howard's eyes, she suspected this dinner was more than it appeared to be. They were at their usual table at Pesci di Antonio's—the one on the back balcony—and she'd watched her beloved polish off an order of veal Parmesan with rare appetite. The first stars were starting to show in the night sky, and a hint of coolness signaled the ending of summer. She was glad she'd brought a sweater.
"How's the scampi?" Howard interrupted her thoughts, waving a fork towards her plate.
"Good," Maria replied cautiously. He'd talked her into trying it and although seafood wasn't her first choice when eating here, the shrimp were delicious, buttery and hot.
"May I?" he asked, shooting her a look like a puppy begging for a scrap. It never failed to amuse her that a man so worldly and confident could pull a soulful face like that, and Maria chuckled.
"Help yourself." She pushed her plate towards him, and Howard deftly speared a shrimp.
"Not bad," he told her after swallowing. "I like scallops better."
"Me too," Maria nodded.
Howard scooted his chair around, fumbling a little. "Here's one you might like."
The delicate box was glazed pink porcelain, and embedded on the lid was a familiar seashell; Maria drew in a breath, recognizing it. She glanced up at Howard, who locked gazes with her, dark eyes serious and yearning. "Go on," he managed, his voice a little shaky.
Maria fumbled a bit, but managed to open the hinged lid, and sitting inside on indigo velvet, a ring glittered at her.
Hot. She felt hot. And cold. A rush of goose bumps rippled down her arms and for a long moment, Maria couldn't breathe.
"Shit. You don't like it," Howard sighed.
That was too much, and Maria felt the insane swell of giggles pushing up along her throat. She deliberately set the box down and slipped out of her seat, kissing Howard as forcefully as possible, pushing him back into his chair hard.
It was a good kiss, as sweet and glorious and possessive as she knew how to give, and even though Howard's mustache scraped her skin, Maria didn't stop kissing him until they both needed air.
"My mistake," Howard panted, "I guess you do like it."
"I love it, and you, Mister Stark," Maria chuffed, catching her breath. "And the box. All of them, perfect."
Howard grinned, and pulled her lightly into his lap. "Can't vouch for the middle one, but the other two are good, future Missus Stark." He reached over for the box, took out the ring and slipped it onto her finger. "Niiiiice."
Maria admired it, holding out her hand in dramatic fashion. "Thank you. I'll have to get sunglasses so I don't blind myself."
"I'll give you a basketful and you can pass them out," Howard teased, and added, "it's two carats if anyone's crass enough to ask."
Maria blushed. "I feel like I have Fort Knox on my finger!"
Howard squeezed her for a moment, pressing his lips just under her ear, and whispering softly. "Don't think about the cost; think about the meaning, Maria. It's an investment in us. You and me, heading into the future together—unbreakable."
Maria cried at that, clinging to him, and knew he understood, because Howard held her soothingly, and kissed her temple as they sat under the stars.
-oo00oo-
Three weeks later, Maria was ready to elope.
She and Howard had chosen December 1st for the date, figuring that four months was plenty of time to set events into motion. Lucia happily agreed to be matron of honor, and Randi was more than delighted to be a bridesmaid. Howard had asked Stane to be best man, and an old friend, Nathanial Reed, as a groomsman.
All the other details-the location, the reception, the dresses and flowers and catering—were in the works but the problem lay with Sophia Carbonell, and her all-obsessive drive for perfection. It wasn't enough to have the ceremony at Holy Trinity Catholic church, no, her mother wanted the National Cathedral, with nothing less than a bishop presiding. Sophia also wanted a horse-drawn carriage, a jazz ensemble at the reception, three photographers and gold edged invitations for the three hundred guests she insisted where the bare minimum for such an affair.
Maria found herself torn between wanting to please her mother, and this only chance for the Carbonell wedding of her dreams, and sweet, sweet simplicity. Lucia commiserated with her, Randi comforted her, and Howard stood by, amused at the hyperbole.
"I have the easy part," He admitted. "I show up in a tux with a ring—done."
"Don't rub it in," Maria groused. "I'm this close to picking up the phone and booking us to Las Vegas as it is."
"You do that, and the only way your mother will forgive you is if you get pregnant right away," he told her. "Speaking of which, what's your view on the whole baby issue?"
Maria shot him a sidelong look, her smile soft. "I'm . . . open to negotiation."
Howard smirked back. "Good. I'll probably let you take the lead on this project, seeing how I don't have a lot of hand-on experience with infants. I hear they're noisy, and prone to leaking waste."
"That reminds me—when is your bachelor party?" Maria countered sweetly, making him laugh.
"No clue—probably sometime before Thanksgiving. Stane's in charge of that."
"That's what worries me."
Howard smiled at her. "Obie's fine—it's Loni we'll have to watch out for."
"Loni," Maria sighed. "Because I didn't have enough to worry about already."
"Obie will keep her in line," Howard promised, adding, "He'd better."