"Well, at least he said he'll talk to you later, honey. Don't get too worked up about it. Your father and I have disagreements all the time and we've been married for—"

"Mom! He totally blew me off! How can you tell me not to get worked up about it?"

My mother puts the crystal lamp she'd been scrutinizing back down on the table, but takes the vendor's card. She starts to laugh, "Shana... it's nothing. You'll see. I'm sure he'll be begging for your forgiveness once he's had a little time to cool off. Ooh, what do you think about those silver candlesticks?"

I pick one up and check it out. "Kinda cheap-looking, actually. Do you really think he'll be sorry?"

Mom starts filling out the order form for the candlesticks, in spite of my estimation. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure he already is." She finishes placing her order and adds, "You're a beautiful woman; he knows what he's got in you. And if he doesn't? Well, then it's his loss."

"Yeah, sure. Easy for you to say."

"It's only easy because it's true," she gushes.

I sigh at that before running my tongue over the new bonding that was applied to my front tooth this morning. As soon as I left Tom's apartment, I called Dr. Schoenberg for an emergency appointment. Thank God he's a family friend and was able to see me off-hours. Still charged me a hundred and twenty bucks, though. Some friend.

I scan the cavernous room of the Jacob Javits Center, which, at least for this week, is being utilized as a wholesalers paradise. The exhibit hall is located at the South Street Seaport in New York City, which makes this my second trek into this hellhole this weekend.

The Javits is just teeming with fellow storeowners, which should be serving as a useful distraction for my misery. Every now and again, I'm forced to put my negative thoughts to the back of my brain in order to fight my way through this immense mob.

But I've replayed Tom's and my little drama over in my head about thirty million times since leaving his house this morning, each time finding some new, underlying horror that I missed the time before.

I haven't called him all day because I want to see him in person to discuss our little brawl. It's always easier to defuse a guy's anger with a little calculated bodily contact. Besides, I can't very well take advantage of the makeup sex if we're on the phone.

I check my Cartier watch and realize it will be hours before I can even think about getting out of here to see him and become even more discouraged.

As if reading my thoughts, Mom says, "Maybe looking at some expensive, sparkly things will cheer you up."

She gives me that reliable smile before looping her arm through mine so we don't lose one another in the massive crowd on our way to the jewelry section.

We scan our eyes over the tables, occasionally stopping to inspect the pieces that catch our eye. When it comes to deciding what items to stock at the store, my mother and I have varying ideas, to say the least. In the jewelry department, however, we have identical tastes.

I order some lovely costume bracelets made from polished African stones while Mom splurges and orders a few too many Swarovski crystal necklaces.

As much as I drool, we have to bypass getting anything from the Tiffany counter—my customers go to the jewelry store next door for their finer baubles—but it sure is fun to window shop.

And then... fate shows herself once again.

Here I am, mulling over Tommy's and my future together, when poof! There it is.

The engagement ring case.

I ask the saleswoman if I can have a closer look at the assortment of dazzling ring settings, and she happily obliges. I start trying on ring after ring, admiring each platinum band against my manicured hand, until I slide an incomparably stunning, diamond-baguette-encrusted, veritable halo down my finger.

"Oh, my God, Mom. Will you just look at this ring! Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen in your entire life?"

My mother takes my hand and holds it up to the light in order to get the full effect of its brilliance.

"You're right, honey. It's gorgeous. It's fun to dream, isn't it? God, I must have tried on a hundred rings before your father—"

"Dream, schmeam, Mom. I'm buying it."

"Oh, Shana, stop it. You are not."

"I am, Mom. I'm doing it. This is my ring. No engagement ring Tommy ever picks out for me will ever make me as happy as this one right here. The fit is even perfect. I won't even need to have it sized."

My mother looks skeptical. "I don't know, honey..."

"What's to know? It's gorgeous, I love it, and I'm getting it."

Mom lets out a shaky breath. "Shana, for goodness sakes. How in the world do you think Tommy will react when he finds out that you bought your own ring? Don't you think he'll feel... I don't know, a bit... emasculated?"

I roll my eyes. "You've been reading too much Redbook, Mom. For godsakes, it's only the setting. Tommy will still get to pick out the diamond. Besides, I can just tell him it was Grandma's or something and play it off as a family heirloom. I would only show it to him so that he'd know that it was very important for me to have this ring when the time comes before he goes shopping for one on his own. Hell, I'd be doing him a favor."

"Yes, sweetheart, I hear what you're saying, but no girl should buy her own engagement ring. It's probably bad luck or something."

I know my mother is just being her overly sensible self, but she has to see that there is no way I'm leaving here today without this ring. Before she can try to talk me out of it, I whip out my checkbook and tell the saleslady to write it up.

Mom finally gets it. "Well, it is a beautiful ring, sweetheart."

"Exactly."

I spend the rest of the day in a daze, only half concentrating on the task at hand. We still have a million other vendors to haggle with, but my mind is constantly drawn to the pretty little turquoise box inside my purse. I'm tempted to just call it a day right now in order to go home and admire my beautiful new ring.

I can't wait to show it to Tommy.