I TOOK A RING from Meg’s jewelry box and gave it to a designer, so he’d know her size.
Since he was also the keeper of Mummy’s bracelets, earrings and necklaces, I asked him to harvest the diamonds from one particularly beautiful bracelet of Mummy’s and use those to create a ring.
I’d cleared all this in advance with Willy. I’d asked my brother if I could have the bracelet, and told him what it was for. I don’t recall him hesitating, for one second, in giving it to me. He seemed to like Meg, despite his oft-cited concerns. Kate seemed to like her too. We’d had them over for dinner during
one of Meg’s visits, and Meg cooked, and everything was good. Willy had a cold: he was sneezing and coughing, and Meg ran upstairs to get him some of her homeopathic cure-alls. Oregano oil, turmeric. He seemed charmed, moved, though Kate announced to the table that he’d never take such unconventional remedies.
We talked about Wimbledon that night, and Suits, and Willy and Kate weren’t brave enough to admit to being superfans. Which was sweet.
The only possibly discordant note I could think of was the marked difference in how the two women dressed, which both of them seemed to notice.
Meg: ripped jeans, barefoot. Kate: done up to the nines. No big deal, I thought.
Along with the diamonds from the bracelet I’d asked the designer to add a third—a blood-free diamond from Botswana.
He asked if there was a rush.
Well…now that you mention it…
