Chapter 1
Penny
This day could not be more perfect. The sun is high and bright in the blue sky, it’s just on the warm side of chilly, there’s not a hint of wind in the air, and the hike to the hillside photo spot was easy to the point of being more of a stroll than a workout.
I sit down carefully on a flat rock and take a sip from my favorite water bottle, noting the vinyl stickers from various towns and concerts I’ve been to, plus my favorite one, an ostrich on ice skates that says, “She is beauty, she is grace, she will not fall on her face.” My bestie-slash-roommate, Talia, bought that one for me as a joke when I first made the Ice Hawkettes, our local NHL hockey cheer team, because on the ice is the only place I’m not likely to fall. Slippery, slidey, hazardous? I’m as solid as can be. Flat, smooth, even ground with full focus and attention, and sensible shoes? This girl’s going down. It’s happened too many times to argue to the contrary.
Thankfully, I stayed vertical today on the way up the hill, though it remains to be seen if my unusually good luck will stick with me for the return trip down.
Trying my best to be discreet, I catch glimpses of the group around me. It’s not an organized hike, but this is one of the most popular trails in the area and spring is known to be the best season for scenic outlooks, so there’s at least a dozen other people here with me, if you countthe mom with the toddler strapped to her in some sort of backpack situation as two people. Damn, lady, your legs must be pumped as fuck, and I say that in full jealousy despite being someone who spends hours dancing and skating every week.
But mostly I’m trying to watch Lance, my client in the navy-blue pullover to my right. He looks a bit sweaty, more than you’d expect with the cool air, and he keeps nervously touching his pocket like he’s afraid he might’ve lost his wallet on the trail.
Actually ... I pat my fanny pack, making sure I feel the chunkiness of my keys, because it’d be just my luck to have dropped them somewhere over the last two miles.
Lance glances around, and I catch his eye, giving him a supportive smile.You can do it,the smile says. But I don’t think he understands the message, because he frowns and jerks his gaze back out over the horizon. I watch with bated breath as he lowers himself to kneeling and clears his throat.
Suddenly, everyone realizes exactly what’s happening, and there’s a chorus of gasps and “aww”s. A kid asks, “What’s going on?” A quick look shows that the mom has clapped her hand over her older child’s mouth and is telling him “shh” meaningfully while simultaneously bouncing herself to keep the toddler on her back quiet. She’s a superwoman, I decide, and then return my attention to Lance so I don’t miss the Big Moment.
“Elaina Marie Wilcox, you are the love of my life. You give meaning to the sunrise and the sunset, and every moment in between. You make me see beauty in a world that desperately tries to highlight the ugliness. You bring happiness to my life, and I want to do the same for you with every day that I’m given ... as your husband, your soulmate, and your best friend. Will you give me that honor and be my wife? Will you marry me?” He holds up a ring, offering it with hope-filled eyes.
You could hear a pin drop. Not even a bird caw breaks the sanctity of the moment.
Which is precisely when I unceremoniously slide off my rocky perch and land on the hard dirt with an unladylike grunt. Another round ofgasps sounds out, but these are in horror as a dozen pairs of eyes find me—yes, including the baby, plus Lance and his still-to-answer fiancée.
Shit!
Thankfully, that’s an internal thought, not an out-loud one, but even so, my grimace from the impact is enough to make a few people step toward me to offer assistance.
“Sorry! I’m okay! Carry on,” I tell Lance, waving a hand to let him and everyone else know I’m fine, though my ass really hurts despite the fair amount of cushion I’ve got back there. I also suddenly realize that I’m dangerously close to the edge of the sloped hill, and knowing my luck, there’s a very real chance the dirt might give way and send me careening down to my death, or at least a broken bone or twelve.
Lance clears his throat again and pulls on Elaina’s hand to get her attention once more, and finally ...finallyshe starts nodding wildly.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”
I join in the applause that breaks out, holding my water bottle against my chest so I don’t lose it and create even more of a distraction than I already have.
It’s a special moment like the dozens of others I’ve been a part of but alsonota part of. Because Lance isn’t proposing to me. I’m not his soulmate. I’m not anyone’sthat. I’m here as the artist who designed the custom engagement ring he’s slipped onto Elaina’s finger. Usually, I ship out the rings I design and wait hopefully for an email back with the proposal story and a picture of the ring on the betrothed’s finger. This time, I was lucky enough to live locally, and Lance invited me to play voyeur because Elaina is a fan of my work.
Carefully, so I don’t disturb the newly engaged couple more than I have, I rise to my feet with the aid of an older gentleman who offers me a grip on his walking stick. Yeah, someone who needs assistance with the carefully maintained and graded path up the hill is helping me—a young, strong, healthy athlete who performs at every local NHL hockey game—to her feet.
Why is my life like this?
I don’t know. I’ve learned not to question it anymore, because beyond death and taxes being sure things, with me, it’s nearly guaranteed that if there’s a way to fall, I will. A way to make a fool of myself, it’llhappen. And of course, a way to look like a complete weirdo, that’ll be me somehow accidentally volunteering as tribute.
As I tell the older gentleman thank you, Elaina, the soon-to-be bride, starts squealing excitedly. “Oh. Em. Gee!” She actually says the letters as she stares at her finger. “Is this a ...?” She lifts wide eyes to Lance, looking so happy I can virtually feel the bliss coming off her like rays of sunshine.
Lance nods. “It is. And even better ...” He guides his newly bejeweled fiancée my way. “This is Penny Lee.”
Eyes locked on me, she whispers out of the side of her mouth toward Lance, “LikeThe Penny? The Ring Girl?”
Lance told me that Elaina is a fan, but I’m still surprised when, after a short second as realization dawns, she throws her arms around me and hugs me tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeats, the exclamation running together as one long word.
When she releases me, I laughingly hold my hand out. “I’m Penny Lee, of PLDesigns. Congratulations.”
Elaina doesn’t so much shake my hand as she wildly jerks it up and down. “I love your work so much. It’s so beautiful.” She pulls her hand back, her eyes dropping to her new custom ring, designed and made bymoi. “It’s so beautiful,” she repeats.
This is why I love what I do. The look on Elaina’s face right now.
