"How do you build a company?"
She considered the question.
"You start with something people need."
"Then what?"
"You figure out how to make it better."
Daniel looked toward the creek.
"Sounds difficult."
Nora smiled.
"So does rebuilding an engine."
He considered that.
Then nodded.
"Fair."
She looked toward him.
"What do you want when you grow up?"
Daniel stared at the water.
He had thought about it many times.
He wanted to become a mechanic.
Maybe own a garage.
But those were only parts of the answer.
Finally, he said, "A house where nobody slams doors."
Nora turned.
He looked embarrassed.
"Sounds stupid."
She shook her head.
"No."
He looked at her.
She smiled sadly.
"I think that's a wonderful thing to want."
Daniel swallowed.
Then looked away.
He had never felt so understood.
The brass ring appeared on a Saturday afternoon in August 1980.
A traveling fair had opened beside the old railroad depot.
There were food stalls, games, handmade crafts, and small tables covered with jewelry.
Daniel had saved money from three weeks of work at Arthur Cole's garage.
He intended to purchase a new pocketknife.
Then he saw the ring.
It lay in a shallow wooden tray among cheap bracelets and metal necklaces.
Its brass-colored band was thin.
A tiny pressed design ran along one side.
It was not beautiful in any conventional sense.
But Daniel imagined it on Nora's finger.
He stood staring at it for several minutes.
The merchant noticed.
"Four dollars."
Daniel looked up.
"Does it turn green?"
The merchant shrugged.
"Eventually."
Daniel frowned.
"That's not very romantic."
The man laughed.
"Kid, for four dollars, you get a ring. Romance costs extra."
Daniel bought it anyway.
He wrapped it in a piece of tissue paper and placed it carefully inside his pocket.
That afternoon, he met Nora on the bridge.
She wore blue jeans and a pale-yellow blouse.
Her dark hair was tied loosely behind her head.
She was sitting on their crooked bench, reading a book.
Daniel stopped in front of her.
"I've got something."
She looked up.
"What?"
He reached into his pocket.
Then hesitated.
Suddenly, the entire idea seemed foolish.
He was fourteen.
He had no money.
His father still drank.
His future consisted of school, garage work, and dreams too large for a boy living beside the railroad tracks.
What right did he have to make promises?
Nora noticed his expression.
"Daniel?"
He took a breath.
Then handed her the tissue-wrapped object.
She opened it.
The ring lay in her palm.
For several seconds, she stared.