Had he shouted at me? I'd been so far out of it, I had no memory of that. But I also had no memory of Jack carrying me out of the diner or even the drive home.
"Don't worry about it," I said finally, motioning him to follow me inside. "It's … understandable. You didn't change your mind?"
"What? Oh. No. No! I don't want to know what you saw. Ever," he said hastily, the words tumbling out with jagged haste.
"No worries. I've practically almost forgotten it already," I lied. I never, ever forgot what I saw or heard in my visions. But nobody had to know that.
Cletus blew out a breath and jammed his hands in his pockets, relief skittering behind his eyes. "Good. I mean, that's great for you. Probably those visions aren't all that reliable, anyway."
"Absolutely. What can I do for you? Looking for one of those ferrets after all?"
He glanced at the greatly diminished stock of taxidermied weasels and halfheartedly grinned.
"No, actually. I was hoping I could pawn something. An old ring I've had forever. I found it in a shop a lot like this one once, years ago, when I thought a relationship might turn serious." He gave me that fake smile again. "It didn't work out, obviously."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said automatically, but I felt a weird chill on the back of my neck. It didn't make sense, but I really didn't like this man. I thought about what Prism and Ollie had said but then pushed it out of my mind.
Cletus was here as a customer, and I was a business owner.
Simple enough.
"Pawn it? Or are you looking to sell? We do both, you know," I said, walking behind the counter to pull out the square of black velvet and jeweler's loupe.
"Oh, really?" He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but I could see the nerves he was trying to conceal in the tension he held in his shoulders. Some people got nervous dealing with pawnshops, especially if they were there because of serious money problems, but I never judged anybody for needing a short-term cash infusion.
First, it would have been vastly hypocritical in my business.
Second, I tried not to judge people.
I wasn't always successful, but Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby had brought me up to be a good person. I did my best, like most people. Which is why I felt guilty about my knee-jerk reaction to Cletus McKee.
"Actually, I'd be glad to sell it." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small jeweler's box that I could immediately see had some age to it. The outside was embroidered cloth instead of the velvet coating of most modern boxes. Also, there were worn spots on the corners, where the fabric was threadbare. Finally, the box closed with a tiny carved wooden clasp.
If the ring went with the box, I might not be able to afford it.
When he opened the lid, I sighed and pointed to the velvet. "Please put it here."
Before I even picked up my loupe, though, I had to be honest. "Cletus, this is a beautiful ring. And I'll examine it, but at first glance it appears to be an Art Deco diamond in a platinum setting. I don't mean to pry, but can you tell me how much you paid for it?"
He shrugged. "I don't really remember. It was just one of those things, you know?"
No, I didn't know. I gave him a single incredulous look, and then I examined the ring. Sure enough, it was platinum, and the diamond was absolutely real. Not just real, but stunning and nearly flawless.
"This is Art Deco for sure," I told Cletus. "The jewelers of the time often set stones in platinum because of its strength and malleability. Also, it was trendy. Jewelers liked to create intricate designs like this braided band to serve as a glorious setting for gemstones."
"Huh," he said.
I looked up to see his eyes glazing over, which unfortunately sometimes happened when I evaluated a piece. I liked to give my findings to the customer as I discovered them, to walk themthrough the process, so there would be less indignation when I finally came up with a price to offer.
But this? This waswayout of my league.
"Cletus, I'm sorry, but I can't buy this."
"Why not?" His eyes narrowed, and his smile vanished, which made me think the real McKee had shown up.
"Because I can't afford it," I said honestly. "This ring would probably run nearly $200,000 in a fine jewelry shop. I'm just a small business. I don't have anywhere near that kind of money to pay out for one ring."
A wave of dark red flushed his cheeks, but he clamped his lips against whatever response he'd been about to make and just stared at me, considering. Finally, he smiled again and shrugged.
