The Bracelet by Mary Jane Clark Page B

dismissively as she took off her gloves and pulled a stick of gum from the pocket of her ski jacket. As Zara’s perfectly polished red nails unwrapped the pink paper from the gum, Piper noticed that she was wearing Terri’s heirloom onyx ring. She had “borrowed” it to wear to a formal dinner last spring. Borrowed but never returned.
    Piper closed her eyes and held her breath. Let it go. Let it go .
    â€œWait. I need to get my glasses out,” said Poppy, patting at his jacket pocket. When he could finally focus on the image, he raved about the appearance of the multilayered cake. “That’s really great, Piper,” he said. “You’ve inherited your mother’s baking talent and her good looks.”
    â€œOsmosis, I guess.” Piper shrugged. “When you grow up around something, you pick it up along the way. I can’t remember a time when my mother wasn’t baking and decorating cakes.”
    Poppy took his breakfast and sat at the bistro table near the front window. He ate the roll slowly and sipped the steaming coffee. He kept glancing over at the doorway to the kitchen.
    He’s waiting for my mother to come out again, thought Piper as she busied herself with straightening the pastry rings in precise lines. She wanted to appear occupied. Anything to avoid having to make conversation with her sister-in-law. But Zara was busy snapping her gum and prattling on about how tired she was.
    â€œI just find the holidays so exhausting, don’t you, Piper? All the running around and buying presents, and afterward you just have to run around some more returning things you don’t like. I love to shop but it can get ridiculous.”
    â€œHow old are you, Zara?” Piper asked without pausing to wait for an answer. “We’re way too young to be tired. Maybe you should see a doctor or take some vitamins or something.”
    Before Zara could respond, Terri came out of the kitchen. “Okay. The cornbread is in the oven. It will be ready in about half an hour.”
    â€œYum,” said Zara. “All right, just enough time for a manicure. I’m going to drive over and see if they can squeeze me in.”
    â€œBut your nails look perfect,” protested Piper.
    Zara shrugged. “Christmas is over. I’m sick of this color. I want something else.”
    Of course you do , thought Piper. No point in saving ten or fifteen bucks by waiting until you actually need another manicure.
    â€œAnd, Piper, I might not be able to find a parking spot out front when I come back. If I can’t, I’ll call you. You wouldn’t mind running the cornbread out to me in the car, would you?”
    â€œNow, why would I mind that?” Piper asked sarcastically.
    â€œGreat,” said Zara. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
    Take your time, thought Piper.
    As Zara walked toward the front door, Piper noticed that the old man was placing something on the bistro table. It was red and square. A box of some kind. Zara saw it too and paused when Poppy motioned to Terri to come over.
    â€œI have something I want to give you,” he said.
    â€œFor me?” Terri asked as she took a seat across from the man.
    â€œYes,” said Poppy. He pushed the velvet-covered box toward her. “Open it, please.”
    â€œOh, Poppy. What did you do?” Terri asked with alarm. “I didn’t get you a Christmas gift.”
    â€œDon’t consider it a Christmas present then,” said Poppy. “It’s just a gift of appreciation.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor all the kindness you’ve shown me,” said Poppy.
    Terri started to protest.
    â€œPlease, don’t argue with me,” Poppy interrupted. “Just open it.”
    He sat back in his chair, watching with a satisfied smile on his face as Terri opened the hinged box. Her mouth dropped open as she reached in and pulled out a wide bracelet of thick gold