I set my butter knife down on the bread plate and looked at June’s left hand resting on the cloth.

The gold wedding band on her ring finger was carved with three narrow braided lines that crossed over each other in the center.

It was the exact same design Greg had bought for me at the small jewelry shop on Gay Street in Knoxville twenty-two years ago, right after he landed his senior estimator position at the engineering firm.

“It was a common design back then,” June said softly, noticing where my eyes had rested.

“They made thousands of those braided gold bands in the late seventies and early eighties.”