But now I’m curious. “How did they know how to do that? That’s rich men’s business.”
“The man I work for helped them. Seems stocks are selling real low right now, so they bought some, then sold some. I asked where the profit is, and they were proud to tell me they’d invested it all.”
“Ah, stop now!”
“Something big is coming, they told me. I’m thinking I might invest.”
“I wouldn’t, if I had any to spare.”
“Why not? There’s money to be made in stocks. Better than hiding it under your bed.”
I glance at him, but he hasn’t any idea where my money box is. How could he? I suppose it’s maybe a regular place. I should get more creative or my brothers will find it.
“I’m sure there is,” I say, “but nothing is as secure as holding on to your own money.”
“Unless you’re robbed.”
“Then you’re not being careful enough.”
I moan, tasting another bite of my supper. Faith, rich people haven’t a clue, eating this way every night. How can they enjoy it when it’s handed to them all the time? The plate alone is worth twice my weekly salary.
Damien gives me a nudge with his elbow. “Someday, you and me, we’ll be able to buy our own suppers at the fanciest restaurants.”
My heart flutters at the thought. ’Tis not the talk of fancy restaurants. ’Tis the talk of “you and me.”
“Is that right?”
“?’Tis indeed.” He swallows a bite of chicken, and I resist the urge to dab a little white sauce off his lip. “I’ve been saving, Rosie. For when we set off.”
This is new, this certainty. I need him to say more out loud. “For what, exactly?”
“Our own home.” He waits a beat. “Our children.”
Before I can voice my surprise, he takes a little box from his pocket. “This is the dessert I was talking about. Open it.”
I lift the top of the box and gasp. “What’s this? Where’d you get it?”
His finger and thumb pinch the fine silver chain of the necklace within and draw it out of the box. He dangles the treasure so we can see the little silver locket hanging from it. ’Tis the most beautiful thing in the world, but I have an awful feeling in my stomach.
I fold my hands over his, containing the necklace in his palm, not mine. “No, Damien. You must stop stealing. This is lovely. Truly, it is. But I’ll be happy for the rest of my life if I have nothing and you aren’t hauled to jail.”
He uncurls my fingers and presents the gift again. “I paid for this,” he says proudly. “With my own money.”
“You never did.”
Very gently, he turns the locket over in his palm. “See there?”
I squint, wondering what on earth—then I see it and my heart stops.RR & DWhas been engraved on the silver. Rosie Ryan and Damien Walsh. I stare at him in amazement.
“Is it all right?” he asks shyly. “Do you mind that I did that with the letters and all? I wanted it special-like for you. So you’d know that I mean it.”
I’m having trouble finding words. “?’Tis the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His face splits with a grin, and I realize he’s been worried. Did he think I’d not love it? That it’s not the most beautiful, meaningful gift I could ever imagine? He moves behind me and fastens the tiny clasp at the back of my neck, and my fingers fly to my chest, getting used to the little heart hanging there. When I blink, happy tears rush down my cheeks.
He frowns a bit, seeing that. He isn’t sure if my tears are happy or sad, and his worry makes them fall faster. “Out with it, Rosie. Is it not to your liking?”
Granny would fall over in her rocker if she knew what I did next. I’ll never tell her.
