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“Why not? You’re a Bradshaw. Gran, tell her to carry the secret ingredient.”
“It’s ajar!” I argue. “What would that look like in the photos? I’m all for diner pride, but… come on.”
“We could tuck it in your bouquet,” my grandmother says, while giving me a mischievous wink.
“It might bring you good luck,” my mother says. She’s holding back laughter, too.
“Honestly, I love the diner,” I say. “I can’t wait to spend Saturday mornings there with you all. But… isn’t this taking our work with pancakes a little far? Mom, did you carry a jar of spices down the aisle?”
She holds back giggles. “I did not.”
I turn to my grandmother. “Did you?”
“I carried flowers,” she says.
I spin to face Roxie. “And you—when you get married, say I hand you a jar of cinnamon before you’re about to walk toward the man of your dreams. Are you going to be thrilled about that?”
She bites her lip like she’s thinking.
But it’s an act. Something’s going on here. Are they pulling my leg?
“Okay,” Roxie says, while grabbing her purse. “I have another idea…” When she digs inside her bag and pulls out a jewelry box, I start to get it.
Theyaremessing with me. She holds out the box.
I take it. “I thought you really wanted me to carry that jar. Like a strange, Bradshaw, pancake-honoring ritual.”
She giggles and gestures for me to open it. “Got you, with that one. But really, here’s something blue. We thought it would be nice, as a nod to tradition.”
I flip the lid open.
A delicate bracelet is inside on a bed of white satin. It’s made of tiny blue gemstones, mounted on the finest rope of white gold.
“It—it matches my ring,” I say, as I fight back tears.
Roxie draws near to help me fasten it around my left wrist. “The blue stones are topaz. Nick helped us pick it out. The man has good taste. Don’t cry.”
She holds my hand out, and my mom and grandmother gather in closer to look. My ring, white gold with a beautiful teardrop diamond, sparkles in the light streaming in from the window.
Whenever I see it, I think of the night Nick gave it to me.
It was after a checkers club meeting. We were the only two people left in the diner. He served me a slice of pie, with a dollop of ice cream on top, and… there it was. Poking up out of the scoop of French vanilla.
I remember how it felt, to put it on. How I cried, and how he held me and kissed me and promised to take care of me forever.
“Maaaaad-die,” Roxie says, her tone low with warning. “What did I say?”
“I’m—I’m not crying. And I won’t, if you all will stop doing these nice things for me. A girl can only take so much.”
Roxie turns to my mom. “She’s going to be a fountain when she says ‘yes’ out there.”
My mother nods. “Her makeup will be ruined.”
My grandmother pats my arm. “My advice? Let the tears flow when you’re saying your vows. We can touch up your look afterwards.”
I nod, still fighting against tears.
When Pansy’s voice rings out through the room, it’s a welcome distraction.“Ladies…? How are we coming along in here?”
