Avery closes her hand around the Meyer family ring. She can't believe it was in Evan's closet. He promised her he'd give it back to the Meyer family, but he must have lied. If he lied about something as small as the ring, what else has he lied to me about? She wonders.

The green diamond gleams in the dim light, and she feels an intense wave of guilt: there's a small chip in the surface of the diamond that wasn't there before. She drops back down to her hands and knees and looks for the missing piece, but it's impossible to find on the gray marble floor. Soon, she hears footsteps and jumps to her feet. She hides the ring in her pocket and pretends to examine the collar of a blue shirt.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Howel, I just wanted to let you know that lunch is ready," a maid says.

"I'll be right down," Avery says. "I just have to finish packing."

She rushes around the closet, choosing shirts, ties, and suits. She neatly folds them and places them in a leather suitcase and walks downstairs. The ring feels heavy in her pocket, and she can't shake the feeling that Evan will find out she has it.

She finds Evan in the bathroom. He's standing in front of the mirror, and thick white foam covers his jaw and cheeks. The electric razor loudly buzzes as he glides it over his face. She fights the urge to laugh—he looks a bit like Santa Claus.

"Do you need my help?" she asks.

"I'd be honored," he says, winking at her in the mirror.

He sits down and presses his lips together, and Avery takes the razor. She watched the salesgirl in the supermarket, but she's never shaved a man's face before. She bites her lip and lightly presses the razor to his cheek, slowly sliding it downward.

He'd be really handsome with a beard, she thinks. It'd make him look more masculine and rugged. Maybe someday I'll ask him to grow one for me. The thought makes her smile.

"What are you smiling about?" Evan asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she says, smiling even wider.

Avery continues shaving, slowly scraping the razor down his face. His skin is smooth and clean beneath the foam, and she strokes his cheek with her fingertip. Evan smiles and wipes some of the foam onto his finger. He flicked it onto her face and then grabs her wrist, painting the foam up her arm to her elbow.

"Stop fooling around," Avery says.

She pulls her arm away, but he reaches for her hair. She jerked backward, and the razor slips in her hand, cutting his cheek. Blood drips from the cut and turns the white foam a strange pink. Tears well up in her eyes, and she swallows hard.

"See, now I've cut you," Avery says, fighting back the tears.

"It's okay," Evan says. He wraps his arm around her waist and gently strokes her back. "You look like you're in more pain than I am."

"I'm not," she snaps. "I'm just upset because you won't sit still. If you keep moving, I might cut your whole chin off."

She wipes her eyes and looks at the small cut on his cheek. Why am I so nervous today? She wonders. Everything is making me jumpy—first, I broke the ring and now this. Is it because he's leaving?

"What do I do now?" she asks Evan.

"Keep shaving," he says.

"Aren't you afraid I might make it worse?" she asks.

"No, it's fine, just don't shave that part again," he says.

Evan gently places his large palm over the back of her hand. He moves his arm, guiding the razor over his face. When he finishes, he lifts her hand from his face, kisses her wrist, and lets her go. She grabs a white towel and wipes the foam from his face, careful not to rub the small cut.

"Please don't go anywhere while I'm gone," Evan says. "Stay safe at home if you can. If you have to go somewhere, take bodyguards."

"Okay," Avery agrees.

He stands and traces the outline of her lips with his pinky. He smiles crookedly, tugs a shirt on, and takes her hand to lead her to the dining room. He pulls out a chair and immediately sits down, pulling her onto his lap. She snuggles into his arms and lets him feed her the Caesar salad. She finishes eating, but she still feels a horrible emptiness inside when she thinks about the next five days.

When they finish eating, he walks with her to the front door. Robert holds Evan's suitcase, and the Howel family helicopter waits on the front lawn to take them to the family's hangar. The gorse flower on the side of the helicopter glitters in the sun.

The blades begin to spin, and Avery's dress whips around her knees. She throws her hands down to her thighs to hold it in place, and Evan smiles. He leans in and kisses her lightly on the lips, climbs into the helicopter, and shuts the door. Avery stands on the lawn and watches the helicopter turn into a speck in the cloudless, blue sky. Standing alone on the lawn, she feels small and abandoned.

"Mrs. Howel, Ms. Johnson is here to see you," a servant says.

Sophie is waiting for her in the front parlor. The French windows are wide open, and the fresh spring air blows into the room. Sophie leaps to her feet and gives Avery a warm hug, and Avery feels overwhelmingly grateful for her mother's friend. They sit on the sofa, and Avery calls for tea.

"I'm so sorry," Avery says. "I've been trying to get in touch with Bryan, but I haven't been able to reach him."

"It's okay—I know he's a free spirit," Sophie says with a small sigh. "If he really is my son, I've already waited more than twenty years to know him. I suppose I can wait a little longer. Besides, I'm hoping you'll hear from him soon. Until then, I have to stay in town for some unexpected business."

Avery nods and pours two cups of rosehip tea. She wraps her fingers around her mug and inhaled the sweet steam before blowing gently on the hot liquid. She takes a sip and looks at Sophie.

"I have two questions for you, Sophie, but they're a bit delicate," she says. "Can we keep this conversation between us?"

"Of course," Sophie says

"You must know everyone worth knowing in the jewelry industry," Avery says.

"I do," Sophie agrees.

Avery puts her tea down and reaches into her pocket. She passes Sophie the Meyer family ring and watches as Sophie examines it. First, Sophie holds it to the light, checking the clarity of the diamond. Then she pulls a small jeweler's magnifying glass from her pocket and looks at the band and the setting. She runs her finger over the chip and frowns.

"It's an exquisite ring," Sophie says. "The color and the cut of the diamond is truly unique. It's such a shame it's damaged."

"That's what I wanted to ask you about," Avery says. "Do you know someone who could fix it?"

"I'm not sure," Sophie says. "This kind of chip is tremendously difficult to repair. There are only a handful of jewelers in the world who would dare to try."

Avery feels a new wave of guilt. The ring is a priceless Meyer family heirloom, and I've ruined it, she thinks. How can I ever return it to them like this? I should never have taken it from Charles in the first place.

"Don't look so upset, dear," Sophie says. "I know of one specialist who may be able to help, but she has an odd temper."

She digs through her purse and passes Avery a business card. The paper feels thick and smooth in Avery's hands, but the card is quite simple. It only says F.S. and an address. Avery slides the card into her pocket, and thanks, Sophie.

"She keeps a low profile, but everyone in the field knows of her," Sophie says. "She's a bit of a hermit, and few people have ever seen her. Honestly, I'm not sure if it would help or hurt your chances with her if you mentioned my name. Now, you said there were two things you wanted to ask me—what was the other?"