Christmas in Bethel

Chapter Fifteen

How can a robin egg blue box bring so much happiness?

Beth Stilton’s Diary

It was a familiar pain in my stomach. About twelve years earlier, when the pain first manifested, it was diagnosed as irritable bowel syndrome by my doctor at the VA. This diagnosis was later changed to a stress disorder related to PTSD.

Lee arrived dressed casually in a navy-blue funnel-neck overcoat, over a light blue zippered sweater over an ivory-white tee. The blue made his eyes stand out. Maybe it was just me, but he looked movie-star handsome.

I was wearing my narrow-waisted black Canada Goose down jacket over a taupe-colored knit dress.

“You look nice,” I said.

“You look very nice. Shall we go?”

The doorman called a cab forward and opened the door for me. Lee handed him a bill, then climbed in the other side. I still didn’t know where we were going.

“Tiffany on Fifth, please,” he said.

I turned to him. “Tiffany?”

“Just a little holiday shopping,” he said.

The cab stopped across the street from the store. The sidewalk was crowded, especially in front of their holiday-themed window displays, which were cordoned off by brass stanchions connected by red-velvet ropes.

“They unveiled their window displays yesterday,” Lee said. “Hence the crowds.”

He led me to the front door, which was opened for us by a sturdy doorman.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Something for you,” he said.

“Me?” I had assumed he was getting something generous for Laurie or Carlie.

“Do you own anything from Tiffany?”

“No.”

“In my opinion, at least once in every woman’s lifetime, she should be gifted something in a Tiffany blue box. Do you own a pearl necklace?”

“You’re not getting me a pearl necklace.”

“I wasn’t really asking permission; I was asking if you had one.”

I crossed my arms. “No. I don’t.”

“Then that’s where we begin. Every woman needs a pearl necklace. It goes with everything.”

“Excuse me,” he said to a gentleman standing near us. “Could you help me with some shopping?”

“I would be delighted to, sir. What can I help you with?”

“A pearl necklace to start.”

“Excellent. My name is Earl.”

Rhymes with pearl, I thought.

“I’m Lee, and this is my friend Beth.”

“Lee and Beth. My pleasure.” Earl led us to the corner of the main floor where there was a glass case with pearl jewelry, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings. He walked behind the counter to open the case.

“If I may, the silver-and-pearl necklace with our inspired key ring and Return to Tiffany label has been very popular.”

“I’m thinking something a bit more traditional. A little more Audrey.”

Earl smiled at the reference. “Yes, Miss Hepburn certainly wore them elegantly. To this day she is still our greatest salesperson.” He pointed to a necklace. “How about this one?”

It was a simple strand of pearls. “We call this Tiffany Essential Pearls. It is eighteen inches long with Akoya cultured pearls with an eighteen-karat white gold clasp.”

“Could I see it?”

“Absolutely.” He reached into the case and brought it out. Lee took it from the man’s white cotton-gloved hands and looked at me. “Would you mind trying this on?”

I took off my coat.

“I’ll take that, ma’am,” the salesman said. I handed my coat to him, then took the necklace from Lee and put it on. I peered into the oval mirror on the counter. It was the most beautiful jewelry I had ever worn.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Earl said.

“She’s lovely,” Lee said. “How much is that?”

“It’s twenty-seven fifty, sir.”

“It’s almost three thousand dollars,” I said.

“You’re right,” he said. “Do you have something a little nicer?”

“We have the Tiffany Essential with the seven, seven five millimeter pearls.”

“How big are these?”

“They are around six millimeters.”

“Let’s try the bigger one.”

He brought one over.

“That’s better,” Lee said. “How much is this?”

“It’s thirty-five, sir.” Lee clasped the pearls around my neck. “Do you like them too?”

“I love them,” I said.

“I like them too. Is there anything else I should see?”

“Similar to this, we have the Tiffany South Sea Noble necklace.”

“What’s the difference with that one?”

“It’s the pearl, sir. But they begin in the forty-thousand-dollar range.”

“I won’t wear it,” I said. “If you buy that, I’ll never wear it. I would be too afraid.”

Lee looked at me with amusement. “All right, the lady has spoken. Find us some matching earrings, and that will be good for now.”

“Would you like to come pick them out?” Earl asked.

“No, I trust you.”

“Very good, sir. Thank you. And if I might ask, Mr. Lee, are you an author?”

Lee glanced around; it was the one time I noticed him reticent to share who he was. “Yes.”

“Forgive me, I understand your desire for privacy, I just want to tell you that I have very much enjoyed reading your books. Thank you for the hours of entertainment.”

“You’re welcome,” Lee said.

Earl left us, returning about ten minutes later with two Tiffany blue boxes, only one of them wrapped with ribbon. “Would the lady like to wear that beautiful necklace out of the store?”

I looked at Lee. “Can I?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “We have lunch reservations upstairs; I think that would be appropriate.”

Lee had made reservations at the Blue Box Café, Tiffany’s upstairs restaurant. The room was, as expected, decorated all in robin egg blue with hundreds of Tiffany boxes dangling from the ceiling. The thought that I had even stepped foot in this world was dizzying; every time my hand strayed to touch the pearls around my neck, I felt my heart pounding.

“I’ll have to take you to breakfast sometime,” he said. “Then you could say you had breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“Who would I tell?”

“Maxine,” he said. We both laughed.

“Would your friend Frankie be impressed?”

“Absolutely. She’s a Hepburn fan.”

“Who isn’t?”

I had the Coquille St. Jacques, a Maine sea scallop with cauliflower. Lee ordered the Croque aux Truffes, the grilled truffled ham and cheese sandwich. We shared a bowl of chilled corn soup with jumbo lump crab and jalape?o.

As we were finishing eating, Lee said, “You still haven’t seen your earrings.”

He reached into the Tiffany bag and brought out a box tied up with ribbon. I untied it, opened the box, then brought out a rectangular blue velvet box and opened it. The pearls shone against the velvet, along with the diamond marquis crosses on top of them.

“Oh,” I said. “They’re beautiful.” I looked up. “Are those real diamonds?”

“Of course.”

“How much were they?”

“You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“You do when it has diamond teeth.”

He smiled at that. “It was a little more than the necklace.”

“How little?”

“A little more than double.”

I shut the box. “That’s too much.”

“Beth, the problem isn’t that it’s too much, the problem is you don’t think you deserve to own something that much.”

His words stopped me. I looked down at my necklace. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not good at accepting gifts. I haven’t much practice.”

“Thank you for letting me experience this with you.” He got up, walked over to me, and put the earrings on. He kissed my forehead, then sat back down.

After he sat I asked, “What could I possibly give you?”

“Something money can’t buy,” he said. “That’s what I want.”

“And what would that be?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

I gazed into his eyes for the longest time, then said, “This will be fun.”

He went back to eating. Then he looked up again. “… And for the record, spoiling you is fun for me too. It’s better to give than to receive.”

Only if you get to receive sometimes too, I thought.