My eyes were drawn to it the moment I entered the store. Amid the diamond and ruby brooches, emerald earrings, gold and silver bracelets and diamond rings, only one thing commanded my attention: a $40,000 diamond and sapphire eternity necklace. Comprised of hand-cut jewels forming a circle with a diamond pendant ending in a tear-shaped sapphire, this exquisite creation called out to my soul in a way no piece of jewelry ever has. I was willing to do almost anything to possess it, including proposing marriage to my friend if he purchased it for me.
I had entered Zabian's Jewelers, an elegant family-owned jewelry store on Main Street in Lee, because I was drawn to the ornate Greek revival-style building that houses the shop, and to the attractive storefront. But the beauty of the outside paled in comparison to the wares inside. The large irridescent sapphire dangling from a string of diamonds transported me to an era when queens and ladies of note draped such gems on themselves and watched knights joust for the favour of the king.
Drawing me from my reverie, Zabian's manager, Mohamed Zabian, offered to show my friend Jake and me the store's most expensive item, a $100,000 diamond engagement ring hand-crafted on the premises. Set with dozens of diamonds, this ring is by far the most expensive thing I have ever laid a finger on (I was too nervous to touch it with more than one).
Jake and I had hopped in my convertible and headed west one Tuesday last month. We took the scenic route to the Berkshires via Routes 66 and 20. Route 66 offers an intimate look at rural Western Massachusetts, coursing through Westhampton into Huntington, where it intersects with Route 20. Passing through the Berkshire foothills, you can catch many unique sights, including a wooden beaver bigger than my rickety red ride.
It takes 15 minutes longer to get to the Lee/Lenox area via Route 20 instead of the Mass Pike, but the extra time is well worth it, especially on a sunny spring day, driving with the top down. Riding through winding hills, my eyes drinking in the beautiful countryside, I felt like a modern Magellan. The hills that were giving way to mountains were so very different from the Valley terrain I'm used to, I felt as if I'd left the country.
Intent on first finding a kitschy hole-in-the-wall eatery for lunch, Jake and I (okay, mostly just I) were sidetracked by something even more tantalizing than the thought of food and a cold one: shopping. We stopped briefly at the outlet complex in Lee—just long enough for me to buy a jump rope at KB Toys and a French maid-style summer dress at Ann Taylor. My shopping needs somewhat satiated, we pressed on to downtown Lee.
If I needed another reminder that we weren't in Kansas anymore, I got it as soon as I parked my car. There were no meters—parking was free! We walked along narrow sidewalks on Main Street, watching an elderly man get his hair cut in Steve's barbershop, which boasts an old-school rotating barber pole.
When our thirst was threatening to altogether consume us, we ducked into the Salmon Rush Fish House and bellied up to the minibar. As we quenched our thirst with ice-cold Coronas, we perused the menu. Standouts included the bourbon-glazed salmon, lobster salad, clams steamed in beer, grilled shrimp skewers, baked scrod au gratin, Alaskan king crab legs and baked lobster pie. We ordered two helpings of littleneck steamers and a lazy man's lobster dish to share. The clams that arrived 20 minutes later were exactly the right size—if they're too small, they're a trifling snack, hardly worth the energy to de-shell. Too big, they taste rubbery and fishy. The succulent lobster was a worthy companion to the delectable littlenecks.
After slaking our thirst and satisfying our hunger, we set out (Jake very grudgingly) to do some antiquing. Lee is virtually brimming with kitschy antique shops like Wears and Whatnots, a fabulous little store on Main Street bursting at the seams with shelf upon shelf of collectibles like books, old china, model ships, paintings and more, as well as, oddly, a treasure trove of fresh candy. Tucked in a bookshelf in back, I found volume F-P of an 1888 edition encyclopedia.
Another gem is the Upstairs Basement. An elderly female proprietor warmly greeted us and promptly informed us she'd been in business for 37 years. Apart from the normal knickknacks found in antique stores—flatware, costume jewelry, and, of course, books—the Upstairs Basement boasts an impressive selection of wooden furniture, including dressers, shelves, chairs and bookshelves. The store also has a vast array of clothing—hats, jackets, dresses, scarves, belts and more—on offer. There's even an old-school jukebox on display.
I, however, simply bought more books. The standout: James C. Fernald's English Synonyms Antonyms and Prepositions, circa 1914.
We also ventured over to Lenox, the next town over and home of Tanglewood, the Berkshires' premiere concert spot. Passing over the roaring Housatonic River, we parked on Housatonic Street and walked into town. We stopped briefly at Art of Joy, a store filled with antique watercolors, sculpture and other 18th- and 19th-century artifacts. After a brief jaunt around the seemingly deserted city—we later learned that it wasn't quite the busy season yet—we decided to call it a day and head back to the Valley.
However, as we were driving back through Lee on our way to the Mass Pike (we decided to take the shorter way home), I spotted an old house, complete with a wrap-around porch, that had been converted into a restaurant, Arizona Pizza Company. People were lounging in rocking chairs in the late afternoon sun, leisurely sipping on cocktails.
"Jake!" I screamed.
"What, Thurlow?" he screamed back, thinking we were in imminent vehicular danger.
"We have to go there and have a drink," I explained.
Although it's part of a chain of restaurants, the Lee Arizona Pizza Co. location easily sets itself apart from its counterparts by being housed in a majestic Victorian-style house on Park Street, which lends it charm not often ascribed to corporate-style eateries.
Jake and I sat in wooden rocking chairs, ice cubes clinking in our vodka tonics, rocking slowly as we discussed our day's Berkshire adventure and planned our next one. Next time, we could shop for other things besides clothes and books, I promised. Next time, he promised, he'd buy me the coveted diamond and sapphire necklace—all he had to do was not eat or drink for three years.
