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Dorothy’s Ring

When my friend lost her diamond ring, she feared she’d lost her last connection to the two most important people in her life

Mysterious Ways

Dorothy was a casual friend I hadn’t seen in a while. So I was both surprised and pleased when I walked into the San Marcos jury selection room and spotted her. It’ll probably take hours for the two sides to select a jury, I thought, making my way to the empty seat beside her. At least I’ll have someone to talk to.

We chatted a bit, catching each other up on our lives. When lunchtime arrived and the bailiff announced a recess, we strolled outside.

“My, what a gorgeous ring,” Dorothy remarked, gazing at my engagement ring. She ran her right hand over her bare ring finger. “I had a beautiful diamond engagement ring. After my husband died, I added two diamonds to it that belonged to my mother. That ring meant everything to me.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I lost it a year ago,” Dorothy told me. She’d been playing golf, and the ring was pinching her finger. She’d removed it and slipped it into her pocket. It disappeared.

We returned to the jury selection room. A short time later, I was dismissed. I said goodbye to Dorothy.

“Want to hear a sad story?” I asked my husband, James, when I got home. He was at the sink, preoccupied with cleaning something. It looked like a small hunk of mud.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, help me wash it off,” he said. I went to the kitchen, filled a bowl with soapy water and dropped the hunk in. I grabbed a small brush and started scrubbing. After a minute or so, a flash of gold appeared. I scrubbed some more.

Soon I saw the unmistakable glimmer of a diamond. “It’s a ring!” I said. When it was all clean, I held it aloft. Three beautiful diamonds, a large one in the center with a pair of smaller, matching ones on either side.

“Where did you find this?” I asked.

“On the golf course,” James answered. “The boys and I played a round today. I bent down to fix a divot and noticed there seemed to be something more there.”

I got out the phone book. “Dorothy,” I said, when she picked up, “tell me again what your lost ring looks like.”

She began to describe it. But I already knew. “Come on over,” I said. “I’ve got something for you.”

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