Swan's Way by Becky Lee Weyrich Page B

what Channing had said, she pointed to a fiery opal, guessing that it must be the least expensive of the lot. And it was a lovely stone, all brilliant colors and deep gleaming fire.
    Channing frowned. “Aren’t opals supposed to bring bad luck?”
    “Oh, Channing, you can’t believe that? Why, it’s a beautiful stone! Look how the colors shift and change in the light. I love it!”
    He took a closer look, then gave Ginna one of his slow, lazy, bone-melting smiles. “You’re right, darling. The opal matches your eyes—all glowing pastels and silver and gold.”
    “You’ve made a fine selection, Miss Swan,” Tiffany said. “This stone has rare fire and warmth.” He nodded solemnly. “And Mr. McNeal is right, it does match your lovely eyes. Now, what about the setting?”
    Happy with his fiancée’s choice, yet disappointed that she would never wear one of the flawless diamonds he had hoped to place on her finger, Channing insisted that the opal be set in platinum surrounded by a halo of diamonds.
    “Perfect!” Tiffany agreed. “We will have it ready for you in a week’s time.”
    Channing’s face fell. “But Miss Swan will be gone by then. I wanted her to have something to wear, to show off to everyone when she gets home.”
    “It’s all right, Channing. I don’t mind waiting. You can give me the ring when I come back up for your graduation in May.”
    “Well, I promised you something and you will have something! That silver locket there, Mr. Tiffany. Could we take a closer look at it?”
    The jeweler hesitated before he reached for the box on the shelf behind him. “I’ve only just fashioned this one. It’s a new style I designed myself.”
    “Won’t you let me buy it for Virginia, sir?”
    Holding the tiny silver heart, Tiffany looked from Channing to Virginia. Her face—Ginna’s face—was absolutely glowing. Neither of the men could know that she recognized the locket. She had been wearing one like it when she was found as a baby. What had become of it, she had no idea.
    “I’ll want her name engraved on its face,” Channing said.
    Tiffany frowned, measuring the miniscule space with a keen eye. “I’m sorry, Mr. McNeal, but I don’t think we can do that The surface inside the flower edging is quite small. Perhaps Miss Swan’s initials would do?”
    “Would there be room to write Ginna?” she asked softly.
    “Five letters?” Tiffany was gazing at the heart mentally engraving the piece. At last he nodded. “Yes! The letters will be small, but I’m sure I can do that. Ginna it shall be.”
    When they left the elegant store a short time later, Ginna was wearing the token of love Channing had chosen for her. She had no idea how or why it would happen, but over a century from now, when she was abandoned by her natural mother, she would again be wearing this heart this token of unselfish and undying love.
    “Thank you, Channing,” she whispered, squeezing his arm. “I love my locket and my ring.”
    He didn’t reply. Suddenly, Channing McNeal seemed a million miles away.
    The minute Virginia suggested to Tiffany that he might engrave “Ginna” on the locket, some small door to Neal Frazier’s memory opened to Channing McNeal. He knew that name, but how? No one had ever called Virginia by a nickname. Yet it seemed so familiar to him. As he tried to force himself to remember, bad feelings came over him. Feelings of guilt and hopelessness. Once the heart was engraved, he dismissed all this, attributing the sensations to the stuffiness of Mr. Tiffany’s office and to the fact that they had yet to eat their noon meal.
    Quickly, he paid cash for the locket—a mere trinket actually—then left instructions on where the ring should be sent. He promised to send a bank draught promptly to cover its cost. After thanking Mr. Tiffany and saying goodbye, he ushered Virginia out of the store. The flash of silver at her slender neck, as the sun struck her locket, brought a smile back to his