Black Gold Filled Fire Ruby Ring - Short Story

It was a spring morning in a relaxed Saturday when the letter came. The jeweller was in his house, stretched in a lounge chair in the backyard reading a book, enjoying the warm sun in the company of his loyal dog, Buster.

The doorbell rang, but it took a while for the jeweller to get up and check on the door. He never received any visitors, and it was Saturday. Somebody at the front door on a Saturday was something very unusual, even for him. He got up and was greeted by the  mailman, who gave him an envelope, saying that it was an urgent matter that apparently couldn't wait until Monday. The mailman left shortly after, a trail of dust on the road behind him.

The jeweller analysed the envelope as he headed to the living room. It was a beautiful manila envelope, not very large. His name was written in one side of it in a neat, fanciful handwriting. On the other side, there was the name and address of the sender: just the initials A. G. D. It came from England, an unknown street in an unknown suburb of London.

He opened the envelop with a knife, revealing a single white sheet folded once. He started reading it in silence, Buster by his side, looking curious but also cheerful. The letter ended with an unrecognized signature, he couldn't distinguish if the writer was a man or a woman. But that didn't matter, for he had an assignment. The person wanted a ring, but not a normal one, a fire red Ruby ring.

The jeweller went to his working room upstairs. It was on the side of his bedroom. The working room was large and tidy, taking up almost all the space upstairs. There were two tables, one on the left side of the room, very large and with working instruments, and another, smaller one, placed against the wall opposite the door. That table had many papers and receipts and a pill of bills waiting to be paid. It had a little tag in it: Frank D. Allen. The words were beautifully engraved in a metal plaque, a gift from one of his best students, his daughter.

Frank sat on the chair in front of the table and started at the tag for a moment. A mix of feelings on his heart, joy and sadness occupying the same space, it would always happen whenever he looked at the tag. He missed his daughter very much. But he couldn't afford to just sit there and think about her. He had to keep on working.

He pinned the letter on the board in the wall in front of the desk, on sign to help him focus on his work and finish it as soon as possible. The letter said the person was coming to pick it up later on that very same Saturday, a deposit was already made in advance. Frank wondered how the person found out his bank account and his address, though it couldn't be hard in these internet times. A fancy ring created in just one day. It was tough work, but he could handle it.

Frank opened the drawer on the left side of the table and took a sheet of paper, pencil and rubber. He'd always start working by drawing the piece he was going to create.

The ring would be made of black platinum and the gemstone was ruby. He considered using red cubic zirconia instead, but changed his mind immediately. The client had asked for a real ruby gem, and he paid part of it already, so he was going to give exactly what he had been asked to.

Once the drawing was finished, he pinned it on the board close to the letter. He sat and stared at the papers in front of him, his mind wandering far away, until Buster came and licked his hand, bringing the jeweller back to reality. It was time to start the real work.

Buster moved to the corner of the room and laid on his rug, like he always did whenever his master was working, and just observed the work happening in front of his small black eyes.

Frank opened the small cabinet and removed his working clothes and some items he was going to need and deposited them on the large desk, the one designed for the hard working.

He started working by carving the design of the ring out of wax, making the mold with other type of hot wax. When the hot wax melted away, he heated the metal, watching as it slowly transformed into liquid. The metal was then vacuumed in the now empty cavity of the ring. He leaves it to cool down and starts working with the platinum. He cuts it to the specified size and welds it to accommodate the ruby.

The afternoon dies away and turns into night quickly as the polishing stages take place in the working room. He works quietly, thoughtful and unblinking. Buster fell asleep long ago, but the jeweller continues on his work, focusing on every detail. A small back pain starts to appear, but he is already used to such thing and doesn't let it stop him from working.

After checking again the colour and clarity, it is time for the cut for the gem stone. On the bottom of the cabinet there's a little wooden box that can only be opened with a key. He removes the key from the chain he wears and opens it.

An explosion of bright colours meet his eyes. Gorgeous gems are carefully stored inside the box, each one in a designed padded compartment. They have been there for a long time, only removed when to be used in the most important and special jewels. Those gems were worth of masterpieces. He takes the round-shaped compartment where the ruby is. Closing and locking the box again, he brings the ruby to the working table.

He uses the drill to carefully cut into the metal and the stone is placed with precision, secured by the surrounding metal. The ring is assembled, the stone is set. He looks at his work, a pleased expression on his face. It is almost finished now.

Frank decides to have a little break from his work. He opens the door of his working room and goes down to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of warm coffee. He sips it leaning against the counter, the face of his daughter coming to his mind again. He shakes his head, replacing it with images of beautiful sapphire rings, emerald necklaces and diamond earrings.

When he started crafting jewellery, his dream was to have one of his pieces among the most beautiful and expensive ones, so he'd work restlessly in order to create the perfect jewel, denying and forgetting about everything else until his work was finished.

It all changed after the tragedy with his daughter. After that Frank spent years without working, not opening or getting close to the door of his working room or touching his tools. He had started again only a couple of month ago, after receiving a mysterious letter. Now he'd do his best to finish his pieces as soon as possible, still being careful and paying attention to the details. It would be done quickly, but still perfectly.

He finished his coffee and went back to the room upstairs. He started polishing using different sized and shaped buffs and brushes, accessing every part of the jewellery - from inside to underneath. And it was now time for lapping, to ensures the ring had a smooth, high quality finish.

Frank took the ring in his hands and stared at it satisfied. It looked amazing. The ruby had a bright, sparkling flash of brightness, contrasting with the dark colour of the ring. It didn't take him long to think about a name. He hurried to the desk where his writings were, tore a piece of paper from his notebook and wrote "Black Gold Filled Fire Ruby Ring".

He picked up the jewel box he had made especially for rings. It had a smooth surface, inside and outside a velvet red colour. He carefully put the ring inside the little box and, looking at the ring one more time, he closed it. He then put it into another box, slightly bigger, and wrapped it like a present. He grabbed the box and closed the door of the working room.

Leaving the ring in the kitchen table, he opened the front door of his house and sat in one of the rocky chairs that had been there since he was a little kid. And then he waited. Nocturnal sounds filled the night, not leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He opened his eyes after a few hours to the sound of a motorbike. He heard it approaching when it was barely visible on the road. It was heading towards the house. It was the client coming, he knew it.

The motorbike approached the house. It was big and painted in dark colours, almost undistinguished in the night. The engine was turned off and the person jumped out of it, walking towards Frank, removing the helmet. Frank got on his feet and started talking, stopping right away when the person took off the helmet revealing a face he was sure he had seen before. It was a woman. And she looked exactly like his daughter.

She had a light square face with deep set green eyes. A long nose hooked over pursed red lips, a smile slowly forming. He mumbled something and went inside quickly, shaking. Leaning on the table to regain his composure, he gave three deep breathes before taking the box and heading outside again.

She was sitting on the starts, playing with Buster. She got up quickly when he came, taking the small package he was holding to her. She held it with both hands, as if feeling what was inside. Without opening it, she gave a satisfied look and took a small bag from her backpack. He took it, it was heavier than he thought it would be. Coins. An awful lot quantity of coins.

He raised his head and she was going back to her bike, getting ready to leave. He rushed to her, gesturing to the bag in his hands and the package on hers, he wanted to know if she liked it, if it was what she expected. But she didn't say anything. She smiled broader, her eyes were shining and she had a playful look on her face as she put on the helmet and placed the package with the ring carefully inside the backpack. Then, looking at him once again, she turned on the engine and drove away at the same way she had come from, waving from a distance. Frank waved back, puzzled, and went back into the house.

It was the first time a client would come and go so quickly, not even checking the merchandise. And it was the first time he took money without checking it first, without making sure the amount was correct. He was still thinking about her, the way she looked at him and that playful expression she had, looking so much like his daughter. He fought the tears and opened the little bag, dropping its contents on the floors.

Frank screamed, feeling so surprised and terrified he had to grab the chair not to fall on the floor. He started shaking again, not believing what was before his eyes. The tears came back and he just let them flow this time. The quantity of money scattered on the table was more than he'd expected, it was more than enough to pay all his debts, it was more than any of his jewels would cost. But that was not what made him cry. It was the picture of her, smiling at the camera, at him, the words "thank you, dad" written on the back of it.