Free Something From Tiffany’s by Melissa Hill Page A

the wine and the music, though, the whole thing felt tense and mechanical, as if they were both just going through the motions.
    Today, the scene played out over and over again in his head, leaving him feeling a little guilty for being so preoccupied while he was with Daisy. ‘OK,’ he said, trying to shake off these peripheral thoughts and once again turn his attention to tracking down the ring, ‘let’s get going on our treasure hunt.’
    ‘What? But, Dad, you haven’t taken even a sip of your coffee, and I’ve already finished my hot chocolate.’ Daisy was perceptive, as always.
    ‘Yes, but I’m thinking we really shouldn’t delay too long – just in case.’ Ethan plopped a couple of coins on the counter by way of a tip, and the two of them headed back out onto the street in the direction of 727 Fifth Avenue.
    ‘Ah, Mr Greene, hello.’ The same elderly Tiffany’s assistant who’d sold them the ring greeted Ethan and Daisy effusively upon arrival. He smiled benevolently. ‘So how did the lucky lady like her Christmas surprise?’
    ‘Well, perhaps there is a lucky lady somewhere who is enjoying it very much,’ Ethan replied, his tone sounding much edgier than he’d intended, and the man raised an eyebrow. Then he sighed. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but it seems there’s been some kind of mistake.’
    ‘A mistake? Please – have a seat,’ the assistant urged, looking genuinely concerned as he led them aside.
    Ethan and Daisy both sat down in front of one of the octagonal display areas. He tried his best to explain. ‘I just don’t know how it could have happened. I absolutely remember seeing the ring I picked out in the box before you had it wrapped on my behalf. But when my fiancée – or should I say my intended fiancée – opened the package yesterday morning there was just a . . . a charm bracelet inside.’ His palms became sweaty just thinking about it; he rubbed them on his jeans. ‘No ring, no diamond solitaire – just a silver charm bracelet.’
    ‘A charm bracelet?’ the assistant repeated in bewilderment.
    ‘Yes. I was thinking that maybe there was some kind of mix-up with the wrapping, or that I’d been given the wrong bag.’ This was the most likely scenario, yet the one Ethan half-hoped wasn’t the case, because it meant that his purchase was in the possession of one very happy stranger.
    ‘But I can’t think what . . . This is unheard of,’ the man blustered. ‘As it is, we sell only diamonds on this floor. Gift items are available on the ground floor or up on the third, the Silver Floor.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Just a moment. Let me call my supervisor.’
    Ethan’s jaw began to work. Damn, this didn’t look good. ‘Of course. Thank you.’
    While the assistant made the call, Daisy rested a hand on her father’s knee. ‘Dad, it’s OK. I’m sure everything will be fine,’ she said, sounding anxious. Ethan looked at her, and immediately felt bad for having to drag her through all of this rigmarole.
    ‘I know, and I’m sorry for getting so flustered. Just . . . thanks for helping me out with this.’
    The next thing Ethan knew, he and Daisy were being greeted very graciously by the Tiffany’s General Manager and whisked away by him and a couple of other suits to take a look at the Christmas Eve security-tape footage.
    It seemed to Ethan, sitting there in the dim room, that there must be nearly as many security cameras as diamonds on the premises. Luckily this meant that they could watch his and Daisy’s visit to the store and their activity on the Diamond Floor from multiple angles, but, disappointingly, nothing seemed untoward. There was certainly no switch of bags, and from what he could tell absolutely no mix-up either.
    He figured that these guys were probably just as suspicious – if not more so – of him as he was of them, since no doubt it wouldn’t have been the first time that someone had tried to claim a missing item. Yet the bottom line was