window to watch chickadees at the feeder that Mitch had staked into the
ground。
It was a time of quiet serenity。 Anne did little reading and even less
work。 Rather； she spent hours in calm reverie before the fire； a triumph
in and of itself。 She was happy。 She wasn't brooding or mourning。 She
didn't want to be anywhere else； with anyone else in the world。
During one of these relaxing moments； on the last evening of their stay；
Mitch suddenly went to his bedroom and returned with a small box。 It was
wrapped in white and had a pale blue ribbon。
〃What's this？〃 she asked in surprise。
〃Open it。〃
She pulled at the bow with unsteady fingers。 〃When did you get this？〃
She hadn't expected a gift。 His presence was enough。
〃I was in Brazil right after Thanksgiving。 It was made by one of the
local artisans in a small village in the interior。〃
The top of the box fell back to reveal a ring； a rectangular piece of
enamelware framed in gold and mounted on a fine gold band。 Anne gasped
at the beauty of the intricately painted design； a semiabstract por
trait of sand； sea； and sun； all woven together in blues； greens；
yellows； and creams。
〃It's beautiful；〃 she breathed。 〃You never should have…〃
〃Put it on；〃 he said。
The ring fit perfectly on the third finger of her right hand； and gave
her pale； slim fingers even greater delicacy。