Flowers were done in two stages. We went with a traditional florist, boutonnières and bouquets and a cake-fall of rust colored roses. For the wedding alter, foil wrapped buckets of plantable maroon, yellow and rust mums came from a roadside stand belonging to an acquaintance of Jeff’s.
We used my paternal grandmother’s custom-made cocktail ring as our engagement piece, until we could find what I was looking for.
Many jewelry stores later, it became apparent that what I wanted wasn’t… normal.
We’d stand at the case inspecting rings and sets as best we could through the glass. Pretty much the moment we decided to leave the store, a high-pressure salesperson would insist on pulling out trays of popular styles.
“Sorry,” I’d say shaking my head. “I just don’t see what I want here.”
The next question was, “Can you describe what you’re looking for?”
I wanted a plain white gold band, no filigree, inset – no raised mounting, and no huge diamond.
Most of the time, they’d come up with something as close as they had: a plain-ish, high band with a large raised diamond on an even higher setting.
“No, sorry,” I’d say. “I want something smaller and not so high. I don’t want to catch it on anything.”
Most of the jewelers would stand back rocking on their heels, and then say something to Jeff with the gist of, “You’re a lucky man! Most brides want bigger…” or “I’ve never seen anything like that. Good luck!”
I accidentally found the elusive perfect ring on a lunch break with a co-worker. She was running an errand, picking up something at Hudson’s, and I tagged along.
As we passed the jewelry counter, I veered off. I was just stopping for a moment to see what they had to offer, since all of the jewelry stores had mostly identical goods.
It was just as I imagined and close to 1/5th of the cost of any rings we had looked at. I was close to just buying it for myself, when I flashed back to the mangled getting -engaged experience and asked if it could be held.
Because it was ridiculously marked down on sale, the answer was a regretful, “No.” Although, the counter woman did inform me that she didn’t think anyone had looked at that ring, ever.
When Jeff picked me up after work for our usual commute home, I frantically told him I had found what I wanted and that we had to go to the store immediately.
“Okay,” he said. So, that’s what we did.
I wanted to swap out my grandmother’s cocktail ring for my new engagement ring, and start wearing it right away.
Jeff said that would be bad luck, especially since we didn’t have an actual wedding band to go with my diamond. Mr. Romantic said he wanted me to save it and begin wearing it on my wedding day because he wanted it to be special.
“I love you,” I said, holding out my hand to take back the ring and the box.
“Oh, no,” Jeff said. “I’m keeping it.”
“Somewhere safe?” I asked.
Quote for the Week:
Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:
Put a Thimble On It: http://mentalfloss.com/article/26619/why-engagement-rings-are-made-diamonds