“Yes, love. This is Fifth Avenue, honey, one of the most expensive streets in the world, along with Rodeo Drive in L.A. and Rue St. Honore in Paris. I’m giving youcarte blancheto go into any store and buy anything you wish.” He winks at me. “Every girl’s dream, I think.”
“I don’t even know where to start, Logan. I’ve not done much shopping.”
He tugs on my hand. “Well then, let’s start simple—with a woman’s best friend.”
With that cryptic remark, he leads me into a jewelry store—Tiffany and Company—which makes more sense of the comment: diamonds. I spend a few minutes just perusing, and I’m overwhelmed.
“I don’t know, Logan. They’re all beautiful, but... maybe this sounds bizarre, but I don’t even know what I should like.”
He laughs. “That is pretty weird, Is. But it shouldn’t be too hard; just look at the stuff, and if something grabs your eye, point it out and I’ll buy it.”
“Just like that?”
“If you like it, yeah, just like that.”
So I look again, this time just letting my gaze flit and float from piece to piece. I’m starting to wonder if there’s somethingwrong with me, because nothing catches my eye. But then... I see a necklace in the shape of a key.
I point it out, and an elderly woman behind the counter drapes it over a black felt stand for me to examine. My heart is pounding, for some odd reason.
And then, when I touch it, I understand why.
The moment my finger touches the diamond-encrusted key—
I am little girl. In my mother’s room. The sea crashes somewhere in the distance. I shouldn’t be in here, but I just want to look at Mama’s box. It is a hand-carved thing of polished reddish-brown wood, and it has all of Mama’s keepsakes and jewelry in it, which I want to look at. There is a little brass lock in the front, keeping it closed.
I tug on the lid, but it is locked.
“You want to see inside,mija?” Mama’s voice comes from behind me.
I startle, spin. “I just wanted to look, Mama. I wasn’t going to—”
She lifts the box in both hands, holding it reverently. Sits on the bed, pats a spot beside her. “Come, sit.” She smiles down at me. “This is a very special box, Isabel. You know why?”
I nod. “Because it has your jewelry in it.”
Mama shakes her head negative. “No,mija, although that is true. Even if the box were empty, it would be special. And if someone were to tell me I had to choose between the box and all the gold and silver and diamonds and pearls in the world, I would choose the box.”
I am confused now. I touch the lid, carefully. It just seems like a wooden box, not even a very well-made one.
Mama laughs. “Would you like to hear the story?” I nod, of course. “Your papa made this box, many years before you were born. Now your papa, he is the best goldsmith in all of Spain, as you and I both know. But he is not so good with wood. But still,he made this box, and he made it just for me. It was the only gift he ever gave me, until after we got married, but that was fine with me. You see, I don’t know if you know this or not, but when I was young, there were a lot of young men who wanted to marry me. I told them all no, which made my parents upset, but they were all so dull. Rich and handsome, perhaps, but boring and stupid. And then I met your father. He wasn’t rich, and he was—well, handsome to me, but not like the other boys. His hair was always in his eyes, and he didn’t play football like the other boys. But I liked him. He was apprenticed to a goldsmith, which meant he worked very hard all day, every day. We spent a lot of time together, all of his time he could spare from work, and from sleep. I grew to love him, but of course I couldn’t tell him that. I had to wait for him, because back then, that’s how it was done. I was waiting, Isabel, for so long. And you know, I knew he loved me too. He was silly with it, like boys get. And you know, men get even sillier than boys, when they’re in love. But don’t tell your father I said that. I was waiting, and waiting. And one day, when I was very impatient because I hadn’t seen my sweet Luis in almost a week, he finally showed up in my parents’ courtyard, holding this box.
I was excited, thinking he’d come to propose, or to give me a very fancy gift.
But no, it was only the box. A simple, not very well-made box. I was confused. But your father told me that, even though he loved me, he couldn’t ask me to marry him, even though he wanted to. He had to finish his apprenticeship first, and then he had to find enough work to support us. My father respected that, and of course he liked it because he hoped I’d find another, wealthier boy to marry in the meantime.
“Luis told me the box was a promise. A promise that he would marry me, one day. Of course, I took the box. Yes, I toldhim, I would wait for him. I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t open. It was locked.”
Mama reaches into the front of her shirt and pulls out a brass key on a red ribbon, lifts it off her neck, and hands it to me; it is still warm from her skin.
“Luis told me that he had already made the ring he would propose to me with, and that it was in the box. He’d saved and saved all of his money, rather than taking me on fancy expensive dates or buying me presents, so he could buy the diamond and pay his goldsmith master for the gold, so he could design and build the ring. Again, I tried to open the box, but of course, it was still locked. And that was when Luis showed me the key. ‘When I ask you to marry me, Camila, I will ask you by giving you this key. And if you accept the key, you are not only accepting the key to this box and the ring inside, but the key to my heart.’”
I stare at the key for a long, long time. “So this is the key? To open the box?”
Mama nods. “Yes.” She turns the box on her lap so it faces me. “Go on,mija. Open it.”
I insert the key, twist; the lock disengages with a tiny quietsnick. Mama lifts open the lid, and I gasp. Inside, lying in little felt trays, are gold rings, gold necklaces, gold bracelets, gold earrings. Each piece is unique, and ornate, and beautiful. Handmade by my own papa.
“Each of the things in the box your father made me, and gave to me on the anniversary of the day he asked me to marry him. He got down on one knee and held up the key to me, holding it in both hands like he was a knight and I was his queen.”
