Her reverent sigh betrayed her. “Stones this gorgeous,” Poetry choked on her heart, “are so rare. They must have been expensive. Are they Baltic?” The breeze from Hugh’s chuckle tickled her ear and Poetry glanced up to find him sharing her space as they leered over the gems like a pair of pirates. The visual seemed so absurd she almost burst into a Spongebob Squarepants sea shanty but Poetry squelched her laughter. She didn’t want to come across as immature or ungrateful. “I have connections in high places near Sweden,” Hugh said with a wink. “Mutual back scratching, that kind of thing.” The semi-precious spheres glittered, even under the harsh fluorescent lights. They reminded Poetry of their ancient beauty and future potential. An unwelcome thought occurred to her. “Why give them to me?” Was it a gift or was she working on commission? Poetry caught his startled expression before he could replace his mask of grim cynicism. “No reason. You’ve had a hard time of it lately and I thought you could use some cheering up.”
