Free Carats and Coconuts by D. D. Scott Page A

didn’t have much time left to evade his
questions.
    “ Stanley giving back our
Blue Moon Diamond is probably a sign that it’s small potatoes. Or
rocks, I guess, compared to what’s still left for him to steal,” my
dad said, having a seat on one of he and my mom’s work
stools.
    I didn’t like the worried glances
passing back and forth between my parents, but they were right to
be worried.
    “ What’s left for him to
take? And from where?” Roman asked, again using his preferred
short, very pointed and spot-on interrogation-style
questions.
    “ Our Blue Moon Diamond is
small compared to what’s left in Brazil,” I said, knowing I could
no longer put off what was at stake or where it could be found.
    “ Brazil? And coconuts?”
Roman asked.
    “ Along with natural beryl
crystal,” my mother added to the mix.
    “ We don’t just mine diamonds
in Brazil. We also mine natural beryl crystal. What you know as
emeralds and aquamarines and the even rarer still pink morganite,
yellow heliodore and the rarest-of-rare, red beryl.”
    “ Ahhh. Thus the reason for
the missing Precious Aquamarine as well,” Roman stated, his mind
beginning to sort through what was still missing from our vault
inventory and why it was gone.
    “ But why the Blue Moon in
the coconut? Brazil has coconuts?”
    “ Brazil has much more than
coconuts,” my mom said, the normally robust color of her cheeks
draining away to match the blizzard howling outside. “They have The
Coconut Highway.”
    “ It’s a coastal road lined
with coconut palms, leading to our largest mine,” Dad added,
supplying the final piece for Roman’s mind puzzle.
    “ Thus, Stanley’s inside joke
of mixing carats with coconuts,” I said, holding up the now empty
coconut shell as my parents began examining our Blue Moon Diamond
with their loupes.
    While my parents got lost in their
precious rock, I pulled Roman aside and out of their
earshot.
    “ Stanley will stop at
nothing to gain control of our mines.”
    “ How do you know that?”
Roman asked, his espresso-colored eyes now darker than a ride down
one of our mine car shafts.
    “ Trust me. I just
do.”
    “ Well, one of these days,
you’re going to have to trust me, and tell me everything, Zoey. And
I mean everything,” my prince said.
    And I knew he was right.
    But how could I tell him everything,
if telling him meant I could lose him forever?

Chapter
Three
     
    C olor is the most sought-after and recognizable of gem traits.
The more intense the color, the more valuable the stone.
    These days, the most valuable stones
on the black market, as well as the open international gem markets,
come from our mines in the Brazilian states of Bahia, Minas Gerais,
and Mato Grosso.
    No, no, no. I don’t want you to get
the wrong idea. My parents are totally legit. They do everything
they possibly can to guarantee our stones are legally
traded.
    But unfortunately, you can’t control
what happens to the stones people steal from your mines.
    No Kimberley Process Certificate
determines whether or not a gem is obtained legally to begin
with.
    Here’s another interesting
tidbit…
    Do y’all know what gives a gem its
color?
    It’s the impurities and defects. The
more imperfections a gem has, the more intense its color, and the
higher its value.
    Kind of gives the saying “colorful
people” a whole new meaning, right?
    Except…in the gem world, people’s
imperfections don’t make them more colorful and entertaining. They
make them that much more deadly.
    I was walking a tightrope here,
without a net.
    Roman needed to know enough to be able
to help me stop Stanley and his Brazilian smuggling partners. But
if I told him too much, he’d become a target, just like I
was.
    Walking hand-in-hand with my prince,
we silently took in the rows and rows of plate glass table-like
exhibition cases displaying my parent’s meticulously cataloged gem
collections. I pondered what he needed to know…and what he
didn’t.
    I