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There had, at one point in her life, been a time when Andy Sachs was nearly completely certain she was going to marry Nate, her college boyfriend. Like most women who are sure they’re dating The One, she knew her ring size, and she knew what she wanted in an engagement ring. When she and Nate had broken up, what she’d learned about diamonds had stayed with her.
So though Andy wasn’t, by an means, an expert in diamonds, she knew that the ring she was looking at was 1) definitely under a carat, and 2) old—or, as an appraiser would probably prefer to say, “vintage.” What she didn’t know was why it was in Miranda’s jewelry box. It certainly hadn’t been there the week before, which was the last time Andy had gone searching for a pair of studs to wear, and it wasn’t at all Miranda’s style—most of Miranda’s everyday jewelry was white gold, not yellow gold, like this ring, not to mention that Andy was sure she’d never seen Miranda wearing it.
Andy held the ring up, noting that the prongs holding the center diamond were ornate, kind of like a claw foot bathtub, and that they made the round-cut diamond they held look more square from a distance, and that there were two smaller diamonds inlaid in the band on either side. There may have once been an engraving on the inside, she noted, but it had long since been worn into illegibility.
Earrings she’d been looking for forgotten, Andy turned the ring over between her fingers, and debated trying it on, just because. As she was about to slide it onto her finger, a voice interrupted her.
“I should’ve known better than to leave it there, I suppose.” Andy whirled around to see Miranda leaning against the doorframe, the beginnings of an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s a shame, I think you’d have really enjoyed the surprise.”
“The surprise of you getting a new piece of jewelry?” Andy asked, holding the ring out to Miranda, who stepped forward to take it.
“It’s hardly new, Andrea,” Miranda replied. “It was—it was my grandmother’s. It’s older than you and I combined.”
“Oh,” Andy offered lamely. “What was the surprise, then?”
Miranda stared at Andy then, and Andy couldn’t help but think she’d asked the dumbest question of her life.
“When I left home,” Miranda started, crossing to sit at her vanity, “my grandmother was the only one who knew that I was going to New York. And the night before, she took this ring off her hand and gave it to me. I tried to tell her no—my grandfather had long since passed and I knew it was one of the only things she had left of him, but she insisted. ‘Miriam,’ she said to me, ‘what good does a pretty ring do me in my living room? You’re going to need money in the big city, and this will get it for you.’ I couldn’t bring myself to pawn it, even when I first got here, and once I could afford a safe deposit box, that’s where it went. It is the most precious thing I own.”
“Oh,” Andy hummed as she leaned against the vanity, “did you want to start wearing it?”
“No,” Miranda said, clearing her throat, “I was hoping you would.”
“Wh..what?” Andy stuttered, staring intently at Miranda.
“You and I both know that I, if I wanted to, could walk into Cartier or Harry Winston right now and buy any ring they had. Whatever I wanted, whatever you wanted, without a second thought,” Miranda explained.
“Well, yeah, but—“ Andy was interrupted by Miranda holding up a hand, and it stopped her cold.
“But you and I both know that you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Miranda continued. “You don’t need—or want—the biggest, flashiest thing a jeweler can offer. Honestly, I’m quite certain that you’d marry me with or without a ring. But you deserve one, and you’ll have one.”
“Miranda. Miranda. Wait. Are—are you proposing to me?” Andy asked, incredulous.
“My grandparents were married for 57 years before my grandfather died,” Miranda went on, ignoring Andy’s question. “Whether or not you and I ever actually marry is irrelevant. I just...I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, Miranda. Yes, I will marry you. Or not marry you. Whichever. I don’t care,” Andy laughed as she took the older woman’s face in her hands, kissing her soundly. “Even if you haven’t technically asked me.” She laughed, and realized that happy tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Well, I had intended to do so this weekend, but your refusal to get your own jewelry box seems to have ruined that plan,” Miranda huffed, rolling her eyes. Andy bit her cheek to keep from laughing, because she knew the editor’s show of annoyance was fake.
“Well?” Andy prodded, taking Miranda’s hands in her own.
“Andrea, will you—“
“YES!” Andy couldn’t help herself.
“Andrea,” Miranda laughed as she slid the ring onto Andy’s hand, “I still haven’t technically asked.”
“Don’t care,” Andy replied, taking Miranda’s hands again to pull her to her feet. “Close enough.” She wrapped her arms around Miranda, who buried her face in Andy’s neck as she relaxed, which made Andy feel very precious, indeed.