The Pin

By Jill Smith

“Sorry I’m late,” Gwen said as she kissed Charlie and dropped her work bag inside his apartment door.

“You are perfectly on time,” Charlie said.

Gwen dashed into the bathroom, smoothed her hair, and pinched her cheeks to get a little color in them. Note to self: bring a makeup bag to school from now on, she thought. She loved these surprise dinner invitations, but teaching eight and nine year olds left her sweaty, probably smelly, and definitely frizzy. Back in the dining room, Charlie handed her a glass of red wine, which she accepted and took a sip.

“To us,” Charlie said, raising his glass in a toast.

“Oops. Sorry.” Gwen smiled and clinked her glass to Charlie’s.

He smiled and said, “Don’t be.”

“Whatever you’re making smells divine! I’m starving. Faculty meeting went on forever.”

“I bet.” 

Charlie returned to the kitchen while Frank Sinatra sang on the Sonos speakers. Gwen sat on the couch and took out a stack of book reports she had to grade tonight so she could return them to her students tomorrow. If she could get through this stack before dinner, then she could just enter the grades and be done. 

A few minutes later, Charlie reappeared with two bowls and placed them on the table. Gwen looked up.

“Oh, it’s ready?” she asked. She hoped that she didn’t sound disappointed.

“Yes, dinner is ready.” He pulled out her chair for her. 

“Are we celebrating something?” She tried to recall when they had started dating. It was last winter, wasn’t it? Right around the middle of December. 

“Yes, it’s the anniversary of our first date, the 17th,” Charlie said.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year!” Gwen said. 

“Maybe because it hasn’t been a year. It’s been ten months.” 

Her shoulders drooped. “Oh.” She would have to get better at remembering all these details. Makeup. Anniversaries. 

“This smells divine!” Gwen said.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Chicken over polenta. You remembered that I love polenta,” she said.

“It’s chicken cacciatore. One of my favorites, served with one of your favorites.”

They both took a few bites. 

“This is so good. Sorry I forgot it was the 17th. I’m not good at remembering dates.” Gwen was beginning to feel bad about forgetting, but this wasn’t a real anniversary, was it? 

He smiled. “That’s okay. That’s why we go well together. I remember what you don’t.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked.

“No. Not at all. I knew that was the way you were a long time ago. I think it’s cute.”

“‘The way I am?’ What do you mean? Forgetful?”

“No, not at all. I’m trying to make you feel special, not feel bad.”

Gwen smiled. “Okay then. I feel special. I hope you do too.”

Charlie smiled. “Do you remember when we walked around the lake that night in summer?”

“Yes! I do remember that! It was so hot all week, so we went to the lake. We wandered into that old-fashioned general store and looked at all the old-timey toys,” Gwen said.

“I drove back there a few weeks ago, when you had to grade those science fair projects, to look at the vintage shaving stuff they had. It reminded me so much of my Grandpop, that I wanted to get a couple of things to put on display.”

“I would have gone with you if I had known,” Gwen said. 

Charlie sipped his wine. “I’m sure you would have come if you didn’t have all those projects to grade. But, anyway, I got a razor, a face brush, and a lather cup with a brass stand.”

“Nice,” Gwen said.

“Do you remember the woman who worked there?”

“Yes! The older blond woman who was chatty?” Gwen asked, feeling victorious at remembering two things: the walk around the lake, and the woman at the store.

“Right. When I went back she was there and she remembered us. She gave me this, and said I should give it to you.” Charlie pulled a small object from his shirt pocket and put it on the table in front of Gwen.

A delicate gold pin with the portrait of a young woman painted in the center stared up at her. It was no bigger than a quarter, and the gold was carved with tiny scrolls that held diamond-like stones. 

Gwen looked up at Charlie. “It’s so unique! I’ve never seen anything like this. Do you think these are real diamonds?” She picked up the pin as though it might explode if she grabbed it too hard.

“I don’t know. We could have a jeweler appraise it if you want,” Charlie said.

“The woman just gave it to you?”

“Yeah. She recognized me right away, like she was waiting for me to come back to the store. She said she had heard us talking about vintage toys and things, and she wanted to give the pin to someone who would appreciate old things. She said she brought it to work with her every day after we were there hoping that one of us would come back.”

“Wow. That’s really sweet, and kind of sad,” Gwen said.

“Sad? Why is it sad?”

“I guess she doesn’t have anyone else to give it to, like a daughter or granddaughter. Or even a grandson to give to a girlfriend.”

“She might have a daughter, but who knows, maybe her daughter doesn’t want it, or wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“I suppose that could be true.” Gwen opened the clasp. She poked the point through her white blouse and fastened the clasp.

She looked at Charlie and smiled. “Thanks. I love it.”

Charlie smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you. I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts.”

Charlie reached across the table and squeezed Gwen’s hand. “We’re not. I just wanted you to have it. No sense in me keeping it for a special occasion.”

Gwen thought for a moment. “Maybe we could go back so I can thank her.” 

“That’s a good idea. We can go this weekend and see the foliage,” Charlie said.

On Saturday, Gwen wore a navy knit blazer over a long sleeve t-shirt, and fastened the pin on the lapel. They enjoyed a leisurely afternoon by the water, watching people take pedal boats out onto the lake and others fishing from the dock. The oranges and yellows of the October trees reflected in the lake and the smell of the browned leaves underfoot aroused that year-coming-to-an-end feeling. The last burst of color before the grays and whites of winter took over. As the afternoon wore on, they meandered along the main road, window-shopping, and eventually entered the antique shop. 

“Can I help you folks?” a man at the register asked them.

“We were hoping to see the older woman who helped me a couple of weeks ago. Is she here today?” Charlie asked. 

“Oh, you mean my sister, Ruth. No, she’s not here today,” the man said.

Charlie and Gwen looked at each other.

“Is there a problem?” the man asked.

“No, not at all. She gave me something and I wanted to thank her for it,” Gwen said.

“What did she give you?”

“This pin. I wore it to show her how much I love it.” Gwen smiled and leaned in for the man to see. She saw that his nametag said, “Leonard.”

“That was my mother’s pin. Our mother’s pin. She had no right to give it to a stranger,” Leonard said. He crossed his arms. 

Charlie cleared his throat and flashed his disarming smile. “Oh, well, she gave it to me, actually, and said I should give it to Gwen because she thought Gwen would appreciate it.”

“Why in heck would she think that? Does she know you?”

“We came in once and admired the antique toys and gadgets,” Gwen said. She felt like she should apologize.

Charlie took a step closer and blocked Gwen with his shoulder. “She, Ruth, gave it to me as a gift for Gwen.” 

“You said that. Well, Ruth died two weeks ago. Her two daughters got nothing, and they’re mad as heck. Ruth donated all she had to charity. That pin was handed down from my mother, and should go to someone in the family, but Ruth didn’t get along with her daughters. Said they were selfish and not trustworthy.”

Gwen didn’t know what to say or what to do.

A bell near the front door chimed announcing that someone was entering. 

“We’re sorry for the loss of your sister,” Charlie said. He grabbed Gwen’s hand and pulled her around the other customers and out of the store. 

They walked briskly down the block, Charlie looking over his shoulder.

Tears welled up in Gwen’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what to do. Do we give it back?”

“No! Ruth wanted you to have it. She said so. It was her wish for you to have it, so we’ll keep it.”

They hurried to the car, and drove off. Gwen couldn’t help but feel like an imposter wearing the pin. She took it off and dropped it into her purse.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.

Gwen sighed. “I just don’t feel right wearing it. It’s not mine.”

Charlie banged his hands against the steering wheel. “She said it was for you. She wants you to have it. Don’t worry about what that guy said.”

“How can I wear it, knowing that my keeping it is making other people mad?” she asked.

“People you don’t even know! Leonard could have been lying! You don’t know him. You know me though, and I want you to wear it,” Charlie said.

They drove in silence for a while. 

  Gwen tried to process what had just happened. “Do you think Ruth was sick, and she knew she was going to die, so she gave the pin away?”

Charlie glanced at Gwen then looked back at the highway in front of them. “Maybe. I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“It just makes the whole story that much sadder, don’t you think?” Gwen asked.

“Then don’t think about it. Why make it sadder? What’s the point in that?” Charlie asked.

“Are you mad?”

“I’m trying not to be. Here we are doing a nice thing by driving back up here to say thank you, but instead we got yelled at, and now you feel bad,” he said. 

“I think the sad thing is that she died. And had a bad relationship with her daughters, apparently,” Gwen said. 

“That’s really none of our business,” Charlie said.

They said nothing else for the rest of the drive home. 

Later at Gwen’s apartment, Charlie tried several searches online for obituaries of a Ruth from Seneca Lake. Gwen sat on the couch sipping wine, looking at the pin.

“I can’t find anything. Now I definitely think he was lying,” Charlie said.

“Or maybe Ruth was a nickname, or a middle name. I mean, why would he lie?” 

Charlie sighed and closed his laptop. “I don’t know. Maybe to get the pin back. Maybe because he was mad about his sister giving everything she had to charity. Why are you turning this into a big story?”

“I’m not. I just think it’s wrong for me to keep it. I know I won’t wear it,” Gwen said.

“Do what you want,” Charlie said. He put his feet up and turned on the Knicks. 

“Not everyone has an obituary, right? What about people who don’t have someone to write one for them?”

Charlie said nothing.

Gwen admired the pin for a moment longer, then opened the drawer of her end table, and dropped it in.

Jill M. Smith lives in North Caldwell, New Jersey, with her husband and four children. Her work has appeared in Calyx, the literary magazine of Caldwell University, and in Back Roads Literary Review. In addition to writing short stories, poetry, and middle-grade fiction, Jill volunteers as an English tutor in the ESL program at the West Caldwell Public Library. If she is not at her desk writing, Jill is most likely on the porch reading or in the garden weeding.