"Gil, I don't know why you need me to . . ."

"Listen, Cath, I can't ask one of the boys to do this. I need your woman's instinct."

"Ok, ok. So why am I here and you're there? Why not just do this together?"

"Not enough time, Catherine. Come on, concentrate. Do you have your list?"

"Yeah." She took the phone away from her ear for a moment and scanned the piece of paper he'd given her before they split up. She looked up at the item on the store counter in front of her, the first one listed. "Are you sure this is the kind you want? It's really . . . big. Isn't it going to be expensive?"

"Only the best for Sara. Now come on, what kind did she say she wanted?"

"I don't know! I certainly didn't have the conversation with her, you did. You're supposed to know this stuff before you go shopping."

"Well it's not like I could just say, 'Tonight's the night, Sara, tell me what you want'! That would make things a little obvious. Hold on for a second." He picked up the thing he'd been studying for the past ten minutes and turned it around in his hand, eyeing it appraisingly. "Well this one certainly sparkles. I don't know, though, it might be a little too much . . ."

"That's what I've been telling you. Are you sure this is the kind she wants? You don't want to spend thousands of dollars on it and then see that she's not happy." What did she care, Catherine wondered. This was Grissom's show, not hers. She was just making secondary purchases to complete the setup.

"Are they all this weird-shaped?"

"It's the nature of the beast, Gil. You'll never find one that's perfect. Well, unless you're willing to spend something like three years' salary."

Grissom sighed. This hadn't seemed like such a hard plan when he's concocted it during the night. "Cath?"

"Yeah, hold on a sec, I'm paying." She looked at the sales slip and almost dropped the phone. "Jesus! Eleven-hundred just for this stuff, and it's not even the main event?"

"I told you I'd write you a check tonight, Catherine. It's my money you're spending, so there's no reason for you to be shocked about it."

"But still . . . it's a little much, even if you do want the best."

"If you were in Sara's position, wouldn't you want the most perfect of everything, no matter how much it costs? I mean, I know Eddie wasn't exactly generous, but you can't tell me you wouldn't have wanted something that showed how much thought he'd put into it."

"Well no, Gil, I'm not saying she won't appreciate it. I'm just saying that maybe if you want to keep your house for her to live in, you might want to lower the budget a little." She slung the bag containing her purchases into the backseat of her car and climbed in.

Marking off what she'd just bought, she scanned the list until she reached the next unchecked item. "You've got to be kidding me. Ca' d'Oro? Do you know how much their stuff . . . oh, never mind. Your money, like you said, but this is a complete extravagance. You don't need to get her one of these to go with it."

"I have savings, Catherine. Just follow the instructions."

She read his writing more carefully. "This is a custom order? Gil, you're completely nuts. This can't get done for tonight, and if it can they're going to charge you an arm and a leg. I mean, inscribed rose gold? Ruby? When was the last time you bought real jewelry?"

"Obviously a long time ago, Cath. I don't go around ordering this stuff every time I get a date."

"Hah, like that's often, anyway." She hopped out of the car and headed for the entrance of the Venetian's Grand Canal Shoppes.

"Not fair, Catherine. As I was saying, I have the money for it, and there's nothing and no one in my life I'd rather spend it on."

"Well gee, if you're that desperate to get rid of your money, I'd be happy to accept something like this, even as weird as it is. Okay, hold on again."

She turned to the jeweler and handed him the note Grissom had written. "It's for a friend," she explained to the man. "He's out of his mind, but he's willing to pay for the luxury. Custom order, he wrote explicit instructions on here. I think there's even a sketch." Catching the jeweler's startled look when he scanned the note, she nodded. "Yeah, I know. Exactly. But he's determined, so . . . can you do it?"

"Yes, ma'am, but as I heard you say a few minutes ago, it will, indeed, cost an arm and a leg. Possibly two legs, I'd have to check with my boss." He gave her a small smile.

Catherine shrugged and spoke into the phone. "Two legs ok, Gil?"

"Very funny, Catherine. Just put in the order."

"Whatever you say, boss."

She turned back to the jeweler and nodded. "Yeah, he's serious about this. Billing address is on the back of the note," she told him, pointing to it. "He's good for the money, I can promise you that."

"Ok, Gris. He said you can pick it up at six o'clock. Have I mentioned in the past few minutes that you're insane?"

"Yes. Now hold on," he told her tiredly, and turned back to the dealer on his end, who was watching with fascination as Grissom authorized exorbitant purchases over the phone. "So how much can I expect to pay for a high-quality one?"

"Well if this is going to be something you put on prominent display, you'd want to buy an investment-quality one. If, on the other hand, it's intended to please the person you're giving it to and not necessarily anyone else, a slightly lower-quality specimen can be just as good." He waved a hand toward his wares. "For investment-quality, we're talking at least five thousand. High-quality, between fifteen hundred and two thousand. The selection of investment-quality is limited, as you can see, but there's more choice if you decide you don't need to spend that much."

Grissom chewed his lip thoughtfully. This was an important decision; he hoped to pick for Sara exactly what she'd pick for herself if he were to bring her here. He knew that perfection wasn't as important to her as having one that matched her personality. "She doesn't need or want investment-quality. This is for life, not to make a profit off of."

"Ok, Dr. Grissom. Well, do you have any favorites from over here in the high-quality area?"

"Yes . . ." Grissom said slowly. Taking a deep breath, he pointed. "I want that one."