Bound With Pearls by Sidney Bristol

a glimpse of what went into creating jewelry and that was the end of my college days. I took an intensive jewelry-making course and apprenticed to a few different people before starting to work for a small, upscale designer. I cut my teeth in New York, living off ramen and tuna.”
    “That’s amazing. I got a marketing degree because it was safe. People are always going to want to sell stuff. Sometimes I wish I’d gone for something else.”
    “Do you enjoy your job?”
    “Sure. It’s creative and complicated, but nothing like what you do.”
    “It’s not that glamorous. Starting out was tough.”
    “Yeah?”
    He shrugged. “It took me away from my family, which was really hard. I was too busy between my day job and designing my stuff on the side to stay as connected with them as I should have. Spent some time living out of my car because I was too proud to tell Mom and Dad.”
    “Why didn’t you tell them?” Her brow creased and a frown marred the delicate beauty of her face.
    He wasn’t ready to explain his family dynamic to her. That was too personal, too messy for a first date. But he could tell her part of the truth. “My parents really supported me in the early years. They paid for my school, my first apartment and supplemented my income until I could pay for it on my own. I did all right for about a year, year and a half, but I got screwed over by the guy I was working for and lost pretty much everything. They’d given me so much, I didn’t want to ask them for anything else, you know?”
    “Yeah, I get that.”
    “What about you?”
    “Me? I had a scholarship to Georgia State, went there until Mom got sick and moved back home, finished doing distance and online courses. Not nearly as exciting.”
    What kind of strength did it take for a young woman to give up her life to take care of her family?
    “Can I ask what happened to your mom?”
    “Cancer. Mom always made sure we went to the doctor once a year, but never went herself until it was too late.”
    Her gaze dropped to the tea light in the middle of the table. When he didn’t reply, she continued.
    “It was mid-spring semester and Mom asked if I’d come home on the weekend. I didn’t really want to. I’d started seeing a guy I was really into and he had tickets for some group we were both crazy about then. Can’t even remember who now. She told Lucy and me that weekend. She and Dad had known since before Christmas. They even started selling off things we wouldn’t notice to pay for stuff. It was crazy. One minute she was there, the next she was gone.”
    Shit. He hadn’t wanted to make her cry. He grasped her elbow with his free hand and squeezed. She glanced up at him through her lashes.
    “Sorry, that’s kind of depressing.”
    “No, it’s part of who you are.” Shit, and he hadn’t wanted to talk about his family because it was too personal? He was an ass.
    “Anyways.” She wiped at her eyes with the linen napkin. “So why did you move to Atlanta? Isn’t New York where everyone goes for stuff like that? Or L.A.?”
    He cleared his throat. “Exactly. The market in New York and L.A. is glutted with too much product. Atlanta is a strong up-and-coming area with a lot to offer.”
    She nodded. “Yeah, the marketing firm I used to work for was always keeping tabs on smaller businesses, waiting for them to get big enough to use us.”
    He leaned forward, surprised by the parallels between their jobs. “In a way it’s being the big fish in the small bowl, but it’s steadily growing, despite the recession.”
    “That’s still really awesome. So where do you want to sell your stuff?” She appeared to have shaken off the sad memories.
    “Right now it’s mostly boutiques and other designers. I’m hoping that with this winter collection I will be able to get space in a bigger, name-brand store. Some might turn their noses up at it, but you have to be in a place where people will see you so they can buy your product.”
    She