For a moment, Patricia seemed unable to answer. Then she looked at Diana's blazer, at the worn bracelet, at her shoes, and decided that silence would make her appear weak. She made another choice instead, a choice that would become impossible to retract.
"I know enough," Patricia said. "You've been here nearly half an hour, and you've done nothing except question our products and interrupt paying customers. People who are genuinely interested in making purchases don't behave this way."
Diana felt the sentence land in the same place where similar sentences had lived for years. She remembered a banker who had called her proposed business naive before looking at the projections, a landlord who had asked whether there was a husband he should speak to, and the associate who had suggested a discount department store when Diana wanted earrings for her mother. She had spent decades making those people wrong, and yet she had never developed the immunity to humiliation that success was supposed to confer.
"I've asked questions about jewelry," she said. "That is what customers do. I've asked to see a product you advertise for sale, and now I've offered to buy it. What exactly have I done that disqualifies me from service?"
Patricia crossed her arms. "I'm not going to debate this with you."
"I'm not asking for a debate. I'm asking for the same professional treatment you've given the customers beside me."
Mrs. Blackstone moved uneasily in her chair. "Patricia, perhaps there's been a misunderstanding," she said. "The lady did ask about the necklace first."
Patricia turned toward her with a soothing smile. "I apologize that you've been exposed to this, Mrs. Blackstone. We occasionally have visitors who don't understand our procedures. I'll handle it."
That apology was almost worse than the direct insults. Diana understood exactly what Patricia was offering the couple: the reassurance that their comfort mattered more than the truth of what was happening in front of them. She was asking the Blackstones to become witnesses to exclusion and accept the exclusion as part of the luxury experience. Diana had seen that bargain made in other rooms, but never with her own brand name on the wall.
"I'd like you to answer one question," Diana said. "If I were wearing a designer dress and arrived in a new car, would you be asking me for a bank statement before showing me a necklace?"
"What an inappropriate thing to ask," Patricia snapped. "I treat every customer according to our standards."
"Your standards seem to change depending on whom you're looking at."
The showroom became very still. The pianist on the recorded music continued playing, and a delivery van outside rumbled briefly past the window. Kevin looked up from the counter with the immediate awareness that the argument had crossed into territory no one could pretend was routine. Marcus took one measured step away from the entrance so he could hear clearly without appearing to surround the customer.
Patricia's cheeks darkened. "Are you accusing me of discrimination?"