“What if he can tell it’s not real?”

“Do you think they’re all jewelers? If you refuse to hand it over right away, Stalker Boy will think he’s getting the real deal once you do.”

“You think so?”

“I don’t see why not. I have a velvet jeweler’s pouch I’ll get you. That will make it look more legit and will be easier than a box.”

“Okay. One problem solved. Now, about my wardrobe…”

Halcyon blew out a breath. “I’m afraid that one is going to take a bit longer.”

“Thanks.”

“Just being honest. You’ve never needed that kind of wardrobe since Harold wasn’t exactly the type to rub elbows wearing a tuxedo. And given that I’m a good four inches taller than you and all my evening wear is made for high heels, everything I have would be granny length on you.”

“Not to mention you’re thinner than me.”

“That’s spandex. I’m a size 14, just like you.”

“You’re wearing spandex right now?”

“No, I’m wearing black jeans and shirt, and the shirt is loose enough and long enough to hide a bunch of stuff that doesn’t need to be seen.”

“If only my inherited skills applied to weight loss.”

“Tell me about it. I’d have you rubbing my fat butt every day, even if you didn’t want to. Dieting sucks.”

“I tried South Beach for a couple weeks this spring.”

“How did that go?”

“I gained two pounds.”

Halcyon shook her head. “That’s why women stop trying. I did that keto thing that everyone is raving about. Tracked everything I put in my mouth. I even skipped a cough drop when I had an allergy attack because of the sugar in it. One week later, I’d lost half a pound. The engineer was supposed to be doing it with me. He cheated with hamburgers, chips, cereal, and regular sodas and lost four pounds.”

“How is that possible?”

“I have no idea. But it’s the exact reason women quit dieting and why there’s no excuse for a guy with a roll around his waist. All they have to do is give up one beer a week and the weight falls off. Things like this, hot flashes, and pantyhose are why I’m certain God’s a man.”

“Truth,” Marina agreed. “Could we hem something of yours?”

“One of us might be able to, but it wouldn’t be me.”

Marina sighed. “Sewing isn’t exactly my gift either. Working with fine fabrics probably isn’t the time to try my hand at it again.”

“Do you have an iron?”

“Yes. You don’t?”

“The rare garment of mine that needs ironing goes straight to the dry cleaner.”

“But how do you get the wrinkles out of your sheets?”

“I don’t. Why in the world would I care about wrinkled sheets? I’m sleeping on them. You know, adding more wrinkles, especially if I have company. We really need to work on your priorities.”

“If I start sleeping on wrinkled sheets would that make you happy?”

“It would be a start. How much time do you need for hair and makeup?”