The name intrigues me, so I head in that direction to investigate. “I might just look in here quickly.”


    “Take your time. I’ll go and get us some coffee and meet you on the bench seat over there.” He points


    over to the park and I nod.


    The ck gloss painted door is heavy and old, and a bell is attached to the top, ringing loudly as I


    walk in and announcing my arrival.


    My eyes look around the cluttered space in awe. It’s a traditional antique shop,plete with the full


    antique shop ambience, including the old and musty smells. Every space on every wall is filled with shelf


    after shelf of clocks, dolls, bears andmpshades. You name it and it’s here. Grey and crème velvet floral


    wallpaper lines the walls.


    “Wow,” I whisper to myself I did not expect this ddin’s cave of treasure. The shop seemed small


    from the front but is actually quiterge on the inside with lots of aisles and furniture set up in the corner.


    A little olddyes around from the hidden back room. She would have to be ny.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    “Hello, my dear. Can I help you with anything?”


    I smile at her hunched over posture. “Just looking, thanks.” I walk up and down the aisles and pick up


    an old rose teacup and saucer. It’s a beautiful pink and has gold gilding around the edges. Oh, I love this. I


    turn it over and see the price sticker is only ￡15. 00. I have no idea what that equates to in Australian


    dors, but I don’t care-I’m getting it. I continue around the shop with a huge smile on my face.


    This is why I wanted toe to Ennd. We don’t have history in Australia. The whole country is


    only 250 years old. Our history was mostly borne in Ennd, and I intend to inhale every breath of it


    while I’m here. I continue looking around, walking over to the old cabs to peer through the ss tops.


    Filled with rows and rows of antique jewelry, they fascinate me. My eyes roll back and forth over the


    lines  of  trays,  and  then  I  see  it.  In  the  bottom  right  corner  is  a  ring.  It’s  rose  gold  with  an  oval  green


    emerald  stone  sitting  in  the  centre  of  it.  I’ve  never  seen  anything  quite  like  it.  It’s  so  feminine,  yet  so


    different. I keep looking at the other pieces but my eyes are constantly drawn back to this one ring.


    “Would you like to try it on, dear?” The olddy asks.


    “Oh, umm.” I shrug. “Why not? Yes, please.”


    She smiles a knowing smile at me. “You have excellent taste. That ring is very, very old.”


    “Oh.” I smile as she hands it to me and I stand still and stare at it for a minute. It’s intriguing.


    “Can you feel the beautiful energying from that ring?” she asks.


    My eyes rise to meet hers and I frown not understanding her meaning.


    “The women who have owned that ring have all been beautiful souls. I can feel you also have the gift.


    That stone it carries is an emerald.” She smiles.


    I frown at her, the gift? What’s that supposed to mean? I run my thumb over the stone of the ring as I


    hold it in my hand, she’s right. I can feel the beautiful energying from it.


    I smile softly at her.


    “Try it on,” she urges.


    I slide it onto my ring finger of my right hand and I melt a little. Oh, I do love this ring. I don’t know


    why; I have never liked anything like it before.


    “How much is it?” I ask.


    “Four hundred and twenty pounds,” she replies.


    My face drops. “Oh,” I murmur sadly, knowing I don’t have that kind of money. I stare down at my


    hand again. Shit.


    Another customer calls her from the back aisle. “Excuse me for a moment, dear.” She disappears to


    the other side of the shop.


    I stand and stare at the ring on my hand. I do love it. I want to get it but I have to be careful with my


    spending. Damn it. Should I just ssh out? It is a lot of money… but then it is something that I would


    have forever. I bite my thumbnail as I think.


    The olddyes back over to me. “Do you want to take that ring, my dear?”


    I look down at my hand, I do, but I’m not telling her that. “Is this ring negotiable?” I ask meekly.


    “No,  darling.  That  ring  is  very  valuable.  We  don’t  even  know  of  its  true  age.  We  do  know  it’s


    hundreds and hundreds of years old by the stampings inside, though. But its origin is unknown. We believe


    it may have belonged to royalty way back.”


    I frown.


    “It has royal stampings,” she replies, seeing my confusion.


    I smile, that’s it. I really want this ring.


    “Oh.”


    “What is your name dear?” she asks.


    “Emerson.”


    “What a beautiful name.” She smiles.