Chương 11
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“The family card,” she explained. “No crowns. No unlimited access.”
Thomas said, “Your family still requires secure identification.”
“Then make it look like identification.”
A few employees smiled.
Gabriel looked toward the empty cabinet.
“We can redesign the credential.”
“And no private filming while regular customers are inside,” Elodie said.
Dr. Foster added it to the notes.
“No commissions based on social-media exposure,” Priya said.
The senior salesperson objected. “That is not realistic.”
“Then disclose them,” Thomas said. “And do not let them determine access.”
A discussion began.
It was messy. People interrupted. Gabriel rejected several proposals. The senior salesperson threatened to resign. The security officer said new rules would be useless without enforcement. Thomas admitted he did not know whether he should return.
Nothing was fixed by the time they left.
For the first time, Elodie believed something might be.
Julian asked to meet her two weeks later.
Gabriel said no.
Elodie said yes.
They compromised on a conversation at Dr. Foster’s office with Leah present.
Julian arrived early. He wore a gray sweater rather than a suit, and without the black tie he looked younger. More tired too.
He stood when Elodie entered.
“Miss Vale.”
“Elodie.”
He sat after she did.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Julian folded and unfolded his hands.
“I prepared something,” he said.
Elodie’s stomach tightened.
He took a sheet of paper from his pocket, looked at it, then put it away.
“That felt wrong.”
“Probably.”
Leah shifted in her chair but did not intervene.
Julian looked at Elodie.
“I knew there was no rule keeping children out.”
She waited.
“I knew the store was open to the public until three. I also knew Ms. Dane’s team wanted a clean background, and I wanted the event to go well because I had been told it could lead to a promotion.”
“You smiled at me.”
“Yes.”
“That was the worst part.”
His eyes lowered.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No,” he said. “I probably don’t.”
She touched the edge of her pendant.
“Did you treat other people like that?”
“Yes.”
The answer made her angrier than denial would have.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Children?”
“Sometimes families. People who came in to look. People I assumed wouldn’t buy.”
“Because of their clothes?”
“Clothes. Age. Accent. Whether they seemed nervous.”
Elodie thought of her watery eyes, her school bag, the coat people online had identified as expensive even though Julian had not.
“What happens to you now?”
“The review recommended termination.”
She looked at Leah. Leah gave a small nod.
Julian continued. “Thomas offered me the option to resign before the decision was final. I declined.”
“Why?”
“Resigning would let me tell future employers I left voluntarily.”
“You want them to know?”
“I want the record to be accurate.”
Elodie was suspicious of how admirable that sounded.
“Did your lawyer tell you to say that?”
“My lawyer told me not to meet you.”
That helped.
“What will you do?”
“I’ve applied to a department-store management program.”
“You’ll still sell jewelry?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you could do it again.”
“Yes.”
He did not promise otherwise.
Elodie looked at him for a long time.
“I don’t forgive you.”
His mouth tightened, then relaxed.
“I understand.”
“I might later.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He stood when the meeting ended.
At the door, he turned.
“For what it’s worth, the card scared me before I read it.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was a complaint card.”
Elodie frowned. “A what?”
“We used gold cards to mark executive-service complaints.”
She laughed once.
Julian smiled, then seemed unsure whether he was allowed.
The Aurelia exhibition reopened on a rainy Thursday in March.
There were no photographers inside.
The first group arrived from a public middle school in the Bronx. Thirty students entered carrying wet umbrellas, backpacks, and the loudness produced when twelve-year-olds are repeatedly told to be quiet.
Mercer House had placed a sign near the entrance:
YOU ARE WELCOME TO LOOK. QUESTIONS ARE FREE.
Elodie thought the wording was embarrassing.
Thomas said that was why children would remember it.
He had returned as interim manager under a six-month review. His authority over hiring, marketing partnerships, and compensation had been divided among three people. He disliked the arrangement. Dr. Foster considered that healthy.
Priya had been promoted to visitor-program coordinator.
The senior salesperson did not resign.
She complained daily and sold more jewelry than anyone else.
The central glass cabinet remained in the same position. The black walls, gold-framed mirrors, warm recessed lights, and polished dark floors had not changed. The Aurelia Collar rested again on its velvet stand.
But one section of the cabinet now displayed Adrienne’s failed wax models.
Another held tools.
A small label described how many hours of labor each setting required. Another explained that the yellow diamonds had been selected for irregular color rather than conventional perfection.
Students pressed close to the glass.
No one told them to step outside.
Elodie stood near the back with Maya. She wore the same beige coat because refusing to wear it had begun to feel like letting strangers choose her clothes. The black shoulder strap crossed her chest. Her mother’s pendant rested against her dark dress.
Maya pointed toward a boy tapping the glass.
“He’s going to get removed.”
A security officer approached.
Instead of removing him, she handed him a microfiber cloth.
“You touched it,” she said. “You polish it.”
The boy’s friends laughed.
He cleaned the fingerprint.
Thomas pretended not to enjoy the moment.
During the design workshop, students received wire, wax, pliers, and inexpensive stones. Adrienne’s sketches had been enlarged across one wall. Her notes remained visible in the margins.
Too stiff.
Clasp pinches.
Needs to breathe.
Elodie stopped in front of those words.
Her father stood beside her.
For several minutes, they watched a girl bend wire around a paper cup.
“She’s doing it wrong,” Gabriel murmured.
“You’re not supposed to say that.”
May you like
“I said it quietly.”
The girl looked up.
