Page 159 of Final Drive

“We have an appointment,” Beckett says. “Monroe. Party of eight.”

“Party of nine,” Bo says.

“She’s not here yet. She thinks we’re getting coffee.”

“That’s a lie you told her.”

“That’s a surprise I arranged.”

Zane has already found the case with the loudest things in it and is breathing on the glass.

Tyler produces a printout.

“Absolutely not,” Beckett says.

“It’s one page.”

“It’s one page of diamond clarity grades, Tyler.”

“It’s one page of diamond clarity grades because the retail markup between VS2 and SI1 is forty percent for a difference nobody can see without magnification, and I’d rather that forty percent stayed in this pack.” He puts it on the counter and turns it toward the jeweler. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

She reads it.

“He’s right.”

Tyler folds the printout along its original crease and puts it back in his jacket.

He doesn’t gloat. Tyler has never gloated in his life, which somehow makes being right more irritating.

We spend seventy minutes looking at rings.

Bo asks whether the setting will catch on a rigger because she’ll be handling boats at six every morning for the rest of her life and none of the rest of us thought of that. The answer is that most of them will, which eliminates two thirds of the case almost immediately.

Jackson says nothing until the fourth tray. Then he points at one, says, “That one won’t snag,” and goes back to standing near the door.

Eli asks about resizing, then insurance, then whether the stone is actually conflict-free or whether that’s the sort of thing everyone agrees to pretend is true.

Zane starts crying at the sixth tray.

Not over a ring.

Over the general idea of a ring.

He explains this at length while Bo hands him a tissue from a box the jeweler produces without comment. She has clearly seen emotional men before, though probably not eight at once.

Cameron speaks three times.

Every time, he says the same thing.

“No.”

The third time, the jeweler turns the tray around and looks at him properly. “Why not that one?”

“It’s beautiful.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s not hers.”

“And which one is hers?”

Cameron looks at the case for maybe four seconds and points.