The Chairman’s expression cooled.
“Did she tell you she was meeting me?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I believed she was mistaken.”
“Mistaken about meeting me?”
“Yes.”
The Chairman stared.
“Why?”
The manager’s face reddened.
The question sounded different from him.
Much harder.
The Billionaire Woman still said nothing.
The manager tried:
“She did not present as one of our expected archival clients.”
The Chairman’s eyes sharpened.
“What does an archival client present as?”
Silence.
Nobody moved.
The young associate looked almost frightened to breathe.
The Boutique Manager opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
The Chairman looked toward the Billionaire Woman.
“Did you ask to see the 1931 collar?”
“Yes.”
The manager looked sharply at her.
The Chairman nodded.
“It’s ready.”
He turned toward the security specialist.
“Bring it.”
The man walked toward a private door beyond the mirrored wall.
The Boutique Manager stared.
“You’re showing her the collar?”
The Chairman looked at her.
“Yes.”
That single word landed harder than anything shouted could have.
The Billionaire Woman picked up her folio.
The Chairman gestured toward a private viewing salon.
Then paused.
“Actually.”
He looked toward the locked center case.
“She wanted to see the center necklace first.”
The Boutique Manager swallowed.
“Yes.”
The Chairman held out his hand.
“Key.”
The manager stared.
“Sir?”
“The key.”
Slowly, she removed it.
Placed it in his palm.
The Chairman unlocked the case personally.
Then looked toward the Billionaire Woman.
“Please.”
The woman stepped closer.
He lifted the necklace tray.
Placed it on the velvet viewing surface.
The diamonds caught the light.
The Billionaire Woman leaned forward.
The manager stood three feet away.
Silent.
The Chairman asked:
“For your mother?”
The manager’s eyes widened.
The Billionaire Woman nodded.
“Possibly.”
“She liked the Geneva piece.”
“Yes.”
“I remember.”
The Billionaire Woman smiled.
“She told you?”
“No.”
The Chairman smiled faintly.
“I watched her look at it for nine minutes.”
That touched her.
He had noticed too.
The Chairman continued:
“This one is beautiful.”
“But the collar is better.”
“Agreed.”
The Boutique Manager stared between them.
This was not a sales conversation.
This was familiarity.
History.
The kind she claimed to recognize.
The Billionaire Woman examined the necklace.
“Too cold.”