The Caveman
Chapter 50

Copyright© 2016 by Colin Barrett

OK, so it’s not the most romantic proposal I ever heard of.

Who cares? I mean, when the man of your dreams asks you to marry him, you don’t pick nits over how he pops the question. Not if you’re me you don’t. And I’m that—me, I mean—so I’m not about to quibble over phrasing.

I’m going to be Linda Calvalli! I told Hugo about how women usually change their last names to their husbands’ and asked him if it was OK; after all, it’s the name of his people way back when, and I wasn’t sure he’d want me to carry the name too. But he says mostly women among his people take their men’s clan names, or whatever, so I’d be Linda of the Calvalli in that time anyhow and it was appropriate.

Not only that, but somewhere in that stumbling description I gave him about marriage I must have mentioned rings, and now he’s hell bent on buying me one. With his very own money! It’ll be the first purchase he’s ever made, which is just one added thrill.

I called Irving this morning to tell him about Hugo’s conclusions regarding our female client, and he was annoyed. It’ll make the defense tougher and we’ll have to split the cases, otherwise there’s too much potential for conflict of interest. He knows better than to doubt Hugo, though, so he just sighed and said he’d work it out.

But I didn’t tell him anything about the engagement. That one I’m going to keep for when I can waltz into the office sporting diamonds. Something not too big, tasteful. Well, all right, maybe tastefully big.

All this time and I’ve never even thought about marriage. Hugo and I were together, and I’ve just focused on that and haven’t worried beyond right now. He caught me completely off guard, first asking about kids and then proposing out of a clear blue sky.

It’s even the right time of year, June’s just around the corner, I think giddily.

At least I can tell Danny. Hell, I have to tell somebody. He’s at work, but I call anyway. “Danny, guess what?” I say, kind of stupidly, I suppose.

“Hmm,” he replies. “Got to be important, you wouldn’t call me here otherwise. You made partner?”

I giggle. “Not quite yet,” I tell him. “I will, I think, but first— I’m going to be married!”

“Huh,” he says placidly. “Anybody I know?”

“Danny!”

“Well, about damn time, I’d say. I thought I was going to have to have a talk with that boy. Honey, congratulations!” His voice is warm. Then it drops a little; I know Danny has a private office and not a cubicle, but sounds still carry. “How’d he propose? Hit you over the head with a club and drag you back to his cave by the hair?”

“No, that’s what I did to him, wiseguy,” I say, giggling again. “I am woman, hear me roar! He asked me, of course. He didn’t even know anything about marriage, first he asked me about that and I told him, and then he said he wanted to marry me, so I said might as well, can’t dance. Jesus, Dan, I can’t tell you how happy I am!”

“Good for you, girl.”

“And we’re going out today and he’s going to buy me a ringy-dingy-dingy, too,” I go on elatedly.

“That’s ‘ring-ring-a-lingle, ‘“ he says, quoting I know from somewhere. “‘I’ve heard that’s where it leads.’****Linda, I’m very happy for you. I don’t give a shit where he comes from, or when, that is one nice guy. But you know you’re setting me up.”

“Huh?”

“Miriam’s not going to sit still for that one,” he explains. “So I guess we’ll be following you in pretty short order. What the hell, it was time for that, too. Want a double wedding?”

“Well... ,” I say. “You have to give me away. Can we do it like that?”

“We’ll work it out, sissie,” he tells me. “Anyhow, congrats again. Damn, I’m glad for you, hon. I think I said it a long time ago, you got a peach.”

“Yeah.” Can you say that with a purr? If you can, I do.

Shopping for the ring is really exciting. I don’t know anything about jewelry stores, but the phone book has plenty of listings and some of the names are pretty familiar; I pick one of those. I’ve shown Hugo how to write checks, though he’s never done it; this will be his first.

On the way he asks me whether the prices are negotiable. I tell him I’m really not sure, but it’s worth a try; he can ask for the manager and see how it goes. So when we find something I really love I don’t gush the way I want to, I just say it “looks OK”; he’ll read me, but the sales clerk won’t.

And it turns out that there’s really a lot of give in the prices. Hugo’s a master haggler; he keeps going back and forth between this one and a couple of others that are a lot cheaper, and he gets the price down by a bundle. Finally he whips out his checkbook like a pro and drafts a check perfectly.

 
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