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“I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages because I’ve always admired it, but where did you get that necklace? It’s like a spine, but it’s not, it’s more…it’s art.”
The question came just as Kit Voss was loading her fork with salad during her weekly Wednesday lunch with her Chief Surgeon and friend, Billie Sutton. Unconsciously touching the admired piece of jewelry, she debated how much of the necklace’s story she was willing to share.
“What is it made of? What’s the material?”
“Onyx.”
“You didn’t find that in a Cracker Jack box then.”
“No, definitely not.” She couldn’t curb the burgeoning smile the memory of its receipt brought to mind. “It was a gift from a friend, well at the time, anyway…”
____________________________________________________________________________________________
A FEW YEARS PRIOR
A light spring rain fronting a mild cold front was just pushing into the greater Atlanta area as Randolph Bell signed a credit card receipt while a willowy woman in a raw silk tunic looked on.
“I’ve never designed something anatomical before. I hope she likes it.”
“It’s perfect, exactly what I had in mind and I appreciate you prioritizing it,” he assured her as he collected the craft paper bag from the counter. “Thank you so much.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________
“You are totally dating him, mother.”
“I am not.” Kit Voss refused to look at her elder daughter despite the fact that they were face timing over the phone which was currently propped on the bathroom counter as she applied a second coat of mascara. “He is a very dear friend, but he hasn’t…it’s just, that’s not what this is. He has helped me so much with this CEO transition, Mol, you have no idea. I don’t think I would have survived these last six weeks without him.”
“Helping you by taking you out to fancy dinners every Friday night?”
“We don’t always eat at fancy restaurants, missy.”
“Ha-ha! So you do go out to dinner every Friday night! You are a brilliant woman, there is no way you are this clueless, Mom. Just deal with it. You are absolutely dating Randolph Bell.”
Sticking out her tongue, the best retort she could muster was, “Am not, am not, am not.” To her relief, the doorbell suddenly sounded.“Ah, thank God. I have to go. I love you, even though you are a total twerp. Give my Josie a million kisses and give Derek a hug.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up yet!”
Kit rolled her eyes as she stopped just inside her bedroom and held the phone back up to her face. “Oh my goodness, what?”
“Just so you know, we like him. Amelia and I like him and Josie keeps asking when she gets to see Grandma’s friend Bell again. We can all tell he’s crazy about you and he’s cute for an old guy, and those Paul Newman eyes. Come on, Mom, Paul Newman, your biggest crush. He’s your Paul Newman.”
“Hey, Kit! Everything okay?”
The sound of Randolph’s voice coming from the bottom of the stairs brought a flush to her cheeks as Molly gasped, “He has a key to your house? MOTH-ER, COME ON!”
“From when I was sick so he could drop things inside the front door! It’s an app thing on his phone. Look, I really have to go.” Determined to have the last word, she added a quick, “And we’re not dating,” before giving the end call icon a firm push.
“Kit?”
She almost dropped her phone as she realized he was headed up the stairs. “Sorry, sorry! I’m coming. I couldn’t get Molly off the phone.”
He had to grip the banister as she appeared at the top of the town house’s staircase. She was absolutely stunning. He had to remind himself to breathe as she walked towards him in a classic Diane von Furstenberg black wrap dress which not only highlighted her curves, but accentuated her slim build. Her hot pink strappy heels gave the simple, yet elegant outfit a pop which she had further accentuated with large gold hoops and a few layered long gold chains. “You look like a magazine cover.” He wanted to cringe as he heard the words leave his mouth.
“Thank you.” Her already pink cheeks grew even warmer as he continued to stare up at her in appreciation. “Sorry I took so long.”
It took some effort, but he managed to form a coherent thought as she made her way towards him. “I hope it’s okay I let myself in. I can delete the app…”
“Please don’t. I rather like having a friend who could let themselves in to find my murdered body if I didn’t show up for work for a few days.”
“You have got to cool it with the murder podcasts, crazy lady.” He shook his head with a grin, his hand warm against the middle of her back as they made their way towards the front door.
“I know, I know. They just make the stairmaster and elliptical sessions go by so much quicker.” He opened the screen to his phone as she pulled the front door closed behind them. “Here, I still have Kevo pulled up. I’ll lock it.”
The telltale signs of the click assured them the house was secure and they were soon on their way.
“So, I’ve done as directed and dressed for a nice dinner. Where might this nice dinner be taking place?”
“Well, given we are finally getting a chance to celebrate your new position, I thought we should go to the most Kit Voss place I know.”
She gave him the side-eye. “Please don’t say I got dressed up to go to some terrible American idea of an English pub that stinks of greasy fish and chips.”
“What, you don’t feel like a few pints and some mushy peas?”
She couldn’t help but chuckle at his appalling attempt at a British accent. “Easy there, Dick Van Dyke.”
“My accent is nowhere near as bad as his, Mary Poppins. Now, do you want to know where we are headed?”
“Please.”
“We are going to a certain steakhouse in Buckhead with a one-word name.”
“Bones!? I love Bones! Oh, lovely. Thank you, Randolph!”
A happy tingle went up his spine as she reached over and gave his forearm a squeeze. These touches, like hers to his arm now and his to her back at the house, were becoming more and more common, and although neither was willing to acknowledge it, they were no longer merely friendly brushes of fingertips, but genuine reaches for connection; most often to offer comfort or encouragement. It was clear to anyone who spent even a few minutes with the duo, professionally or socially, that what they shared was more than a typical friendship.
“You are spoiling me and I should be the one doing the spoiling. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate all your help and guidance-”
“I hope I haven’t overstepped with my advice. I just…”
“Not at all. You have my back and for that I am very grateful. You’ve been amazing. Truly.” Her hand returned to his arm and to his great delight, stayed there until he pulled up to the restaurant’s valet stand.
___________________________________________________________
“Reservation for two under Bell.”
A beautiful young blonde on the other side of the hostess stand gave them a cool smile which soon warmed as she noted the asterisk denoting a guest’s importance by the celebrity doctor’s name in her ledger. “Good evening, Dr. Bell. Welcome to Bones. Your table is right this way, if you’ll follow me.”
Their table was centrally located which mildly annoyed Kit, knowing they would be on display which meant an inevitable fan crowing, “Ring that Bell!” and stopping by the table to interrupt their meal, but she knew such encounters boosted his ego which, if she was honest, had lost some of its buoyancy in the wake of the Lane Hunter, Quo Vadis, and Red Rock Management debacles. She had just set her clutch on the edge of the table when Randolph surprised her by quietly asking the hostess if it would be possible for them to get a table more out of the way. Eager to please the important guest, the young woman soon had them at a table along the far wall which took them out of the main traffic paths and definitely diminished the odds of them being spotted by a member of the Randolph Bell fan club.
“I understand we are celebrating tonight?”
The hostess’ question surprised Kit and she quickly gave Randolph a confused look.
“We are celebrating a promotion. A well-earned and much deserved promotion for my very brilliant and beautiful friend,” he answered the young woman, although his eyes didn’t leave his companion’s face.
The blonde turned her attention to Kit, “Well, congratulations. I hope you both have a lovely evening. Miles will be right with you.”
“You make me blush, Dr. Bell,” she teased as he picked up the wine list.
“It’s all true, and as your friend, I feel I have the right to say I am proud of you, or at least say I’m proud to be your friend, which, of course…I have always felt very proud to be your friend.”
The tenderness in his voice almost brought her to tears. “And I yours.”
If a throng of gushing fans had suddenly appeared, their adoration wouldn’t have been able to elicit a tenth of the joy her voicing those three little words had.
______________________________________________________
The meal was excellent, as anticipated, and the company pleasant, although Kit could detect a growing anxiety across the table as the waiter walked away with their dessert order. Watching Randolph fold and unfold his napkin for the eighth time in a row, she gave his foot a gentle nudge with her own. “What’s going on in that brilliant brain of yours, Dr. Bell? The hamsters are running their little legs off on their wheels. I can see it in your eyes.”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders lifting and falling before he reached inside his coat pocket and produced a fairly flat 4”x4” box which he slid across to her side of the table. “I wanted to give you something to commemorate your promotion, but you already have a really nice briefcase and I gave you an engraved pen for Christmas, and even having been a CEO, I mean, what do you get a CEO, so…anyway, if you hate it, please don’t feel like you have to wear it…I mean, it’s just a token, but it does have some meaning behind it and anyway, it’s just…”
She feared they would close the restaurant if she didn't interrupt his ramblings. “I’m sure I will love it. May I open whatever it is?”
“Of course.” His smile was genuine as he leaned back in his chair, his arms folding to contain his nervous energy as he watched her pick up the box.
She recognized the artist’s signature embossed on the lid. “Oh, Lydia Reece! I bought that bracelet from her when we were on the art walk last summer. You remembered that?”
He nodded. “I took her card that night and remembered that you seemed to really like her work. She turned this around pretty quick, which was nice.”
Despite her two glasses of wine, it immediately dawned on her that he hadn’t just stopped by and picked something pretty out of a case. He'd had the piece commissioned especially for her.
“Randolph, you are too sweet.”
“You may hate it…”
“Oh, stop.” She gave him a playful scowl as she lifted the lid and pulled back a thin layer of cotton wool to reveal a delicate series of identical black stones that fit together much like the bones that make up the vertebrae. The miniature work of art was suspended from a thin gold chain. "This is gorgeous, Randolph. I love it.”
“It’s black onyx. As you could probably guess, I’m not into all that crystal mumbo jumbo, but Lydia said it symbolizes protection and will power, and...something else...oh, calmness, for all that's worth, and it supposedly has healing powers.”
“This is the loveliest thing anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”
He gave her a few moments to look at it before attempting to explain its meaning. “It’s not exactly a spinal column, but that’s what it is meant to represent. I wanted a spine, you know, a backbone that would lay over your heart because..." his gaze shifted to the table top below him as he struggled to express his sentiment."...everyone knows what a big heart you have and how kind you are, but I don't think people give you enough credit for how strong you are."
Her look was doubtful as she argued, "I don't know about that."
He forced himself to look into her eyes. "I do. You are always standing up for people when they can’t stand up for themselves and you are willing to consider all sides of things, which a lot of people won't do, and you are open to compromise, which a lot of people are not, so you’re flexible, like the spine, but you're also incredibly strong like bone, or the stones...and I think you are becoming an amazing CEO because you do have both of these things in you; kindness and strength...and I sound like a rambling idiot. I’m sorry." Scrambling for any sort of coherent way to end his explanation, he half-heartedly offered, "I picked gold for the chain because you wear a lot of gold." He nodded his head to indicate all the gold she was currently wearing. "And the stones are black, so I figured you could wear it with a lot of different things.”
Watching him play with his napkin as he nervously sang her praises and confess an intimate knowledge of the contents of her jewelry box made one thing perfectly clear: she was madly in love with this beautiful, brilliant, flawed, stubborn, sun-kissed marvel of a man.
“Sweetest…you are the sweetest man, Randolph.”
His smile physically hurt, it was so wide, but there was nothing in the world that could wipe it from his face at that moment. “Good. I'm glad you like it.”
“Love it,” she softly corrected him.
He watched her struggle with the latch for a few moments before standing from his chair and moving behind her. “Here, let me help.” He inhaled deeply as she brushed her hair over one shoulder, the delicious combination of her perfume and shampoo cutting through the smell of smoked meat and the sweet yeast of the restaurant's rolls as his surgical dexterity allowed him to secure the ends easily and quickly at the nape of her elegant neck.
“Thank you,” she had just rested her hand over both the necklace and her heart when she turned to look up at him, unaware he had chosen the exact same moment to lean down and kiss her cheek. Her sudden move threw off his aim and his lips landed squarely on hers.The kiss was a brief one as he jerked his head back with a little more force than he had intended. “I…your cheek…I’m so sorry.”
There was something about his panic that she found adorable, and, to his immense relief, she immediately smiled and gave his jacket lapel a tug. “Neither one of us turned to stone. It was barely a kiss. Don’t freak out.”
The approach of waiter Miles with their coffee and dessert helped diffuse more of the awkwardness as he returned to his seat. A piece of cheesecake between them, he waited until she had a mouthful of the decadent dessert to point at the necklace with his own forkful. “It looks good on you.”
She took a sip of coffee to wash down the bite. “I’m fortunate to have a friend with excellent taste.”
His bite went uneaten as he couldn’t leave the topic of "the kiss" alone. “I really was going for your cheek.”
“Randolph, it’s not like you stuck your tongue down my throat. Chill out, dude.”
Her humor served as a balm to his worry and he was soon chuckling. “Chill. Out. Dude. Have three words ever sounded more strangely coming out of a mouth?”
“Like, chill out, Rand-oh. Don’t have a cow, dude.”
The Valley girl accent she had adapted and the wonky Simpson’s quote made him laugh even harder. “Rand-oh, huh? Oh, my God, that was terrible. Do another one!”
“No, no,” she waved his request away with her hand and a laugh. “I sound like an idiot.”
“You don’t! I love it. It’s great.” They stared at each other for a few moments before he softly added, “You’re great.”
This could be the moment. She considered it. She could just reach across the table and take his hand. She could do that. She could do that and he could recoil from her touch as quickly as he had from their unexpected kiss.
This could be the moment. He considered it. He could just reach across the table and take her hand. He could do that. He could do that and she could laugh and tell him to “chill out” again.
Their respective considerations fell to the wayside and any courage either of them had mustered disappeared as Miles approached their table, a hopeful smile for a big tip on his lips as he held their bill to his chest.
“Is there anything else I can get you this evening?”
____________________________________________________________________________________________
PRESENT DAY
“I love that,” Billie leaned back in her chair and focused again on the long shiny bauble hanging in the center of her boss’s chest. “Your friend gave you a reminder that you can have a good heart and also a strong backbone.” The young surgeon was thoughtful for a moment before admitting, “It makes me think of these little gold heart friendship necklaces Nic and I wore all through elementary school. I remember after she gave me my half, just the feel of it bouncing against my chest as I ran across the playground would remind me that someone thought I was special enough to give me and only me this symbol of being their best friend and favorite person.” The women each blinked back tears as she added, “I think we both lucked out in the friend department, don’t you?”
“Definitely,” Kit agreed, her slightly sad smile inspired by Billie’s memory turning into a happy grin as she noticed the approach of a handsome man with Paul Newman blue eyes over Billie’s shoulder.
“Ladies.”
“Dr. Bell.” Needing a moment to collect herself before continuing her day, Billie pushed herself up from the table. “Your timing is perfect. I have a consult in five minutes. Please take my seat.”
Plopping down into the now vacated chair, Randolph plucked an uneaten pickle spear from Billie’s plate. “So, what was on today’s agenda? New resident assignments?” He took one bite, then a second, and was about to take a third when he leaned towards her and muttered, “Hello, earth to Kit.”
Her right hand drifted back towards her chest, her fingers easily finding the cool, smooth onyx where it rested against her warm skin. “Billie asked me where this came from. That’s what we were talking about.”
“Oh.” A wave of embarrassment he couldn’t explain washed over him as he waited for her to continue.
Looking across the table, she could easily imagine what he had looked like as an adorable four year old, his ears turning pink and a worried furrow on his brow just like the one currently gracing his sixty-plus year old face .
“What did you tell her?”
“That a friend gave it to me to remind me that I am both strong and kind.”
“Oh.” He wiped the pickle juice from his fingers on a fresh napkin as he fished for more by asking, “Just a friend?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “That’s what he was then.”
He leaned back in his chair, his arms folding across his chest as they had when he’d watched her open the gift all those years ago. “You know I was as crazy about you then as I am now, don’t you?”
That he had loved her then was no great surprise, but his admission of it in the middle of the busy cafe on a random Wednesday afternoon was quite unexpected. “Deep down I knew, yes.” She glanced around to make sure no one was listening in. “The girls knew. Molly and Amelia both told me we were dating back then, even though we wouldn’t admit it.”
“But we weren’t…”
“Weren’t we? Neither of us were dating anyone else. We had dinner or drinks at least once a week, if not more. We had access to get into the other’s house. You were essentially my caretaker during COVID. Good lord, we spent every Saturday morning feeding each other samples at the Farmer’s Market. We were doing basically everything a normal couple does except have sex.”
“Which was a crime because we’re really good at that part.”
She met the twinkle in his eye with an exaggerated frown. “All that wasted time.” Reaching across the table, she laced the fingers of her right hand through his left. “All joking aside, I didn't tell Billie you were the friend, but she's a bright woman. I'm sure she'll figure it out if she hasn't already. I also didn't tell her the truth about what it represents to me.”
He sat up straighter, his attention fully on her as he waited for an explanation. "Go on."
“I told her what it represents to you; my kindness and strength, but that's not what it means to me. To me, it has always represented you. It’s your strength and your support, always there to hold me up when I feel like the weight of the world is too much.”
He managed a small smile, but kept quiet for fear the quickly forming lump in his throat would betray him if he tried to speak.
Squeezing his hand, she used her other to gently pat over her heart. “Even when you are hundreds and hundreds of miles away at Mayo, or visiting Jake and Sammie, or floating on that blasted boat in the middle of the gulf, you’re with me. You’re always right here.”
His response was barely audible; only his wife able to hear his whispered, “Good. It's the only place I ever want to be.”