Into Eternity

He had trouble—trouble he’d never had before—keeping his hand steady to inscribe an S and a period behind the “Into Eternity.” The S very well could stand for “Stan.” Only he would know that it equally could stand for “Steve.” After he’d finished, he started to get up, but then, as an afterthought, he rummaged through his drawers. He’d remembered something he’d engraved when he first opened this shop. Something he thought he’d do something with someday—but never had had the opportunity.

He stopped at the curtain momentarily, his attention riveted by the tableau of Angela, an arm around the boy’s shoulder, both of them leaning over and looking down into a glass case, where Angela was pointing out antique coins. The son they’d never had. The child he’d never given Angela.

“Yes, yes,” he said as he continued on out of the back and into the showroom. “Found it—or them. And all prepaid too. There wasn’t just one job on order. I found there were two. And now I remember that. Here, son, I think this might be what you were looking for.” He’d tried to keep his voice businesslike. But Angela was giving him a peculiar look. She knew who that diamond bracelet was really for.

“See, it’s engraved. ‘Into Eternity, S.’ That would be Stan. Obviously for your mother.”

“Wow, neat,” Paul exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “She’ll love that.”