"Grandma?"
William Bennett stood inside the entrance with his phone still pressed to his ear. He was thirty-four, tall, dark-skinned, neatly bearded, and wearing a navy suit without a tie because he had driven over from a breakfast meeting where nobody cared about formality. He had recognized his grandmother first by the way she held her handbag, close to her ribs when she was upset, then by the blue cardigan he had bought her three Christmases earlier. Seeing her surrounded by strangers beneath the showroom lights was so unexpected that for a moment he thought he had mistaken somebody else for her.
"Grandma?" he repeated, putting the phone away. "What are you doing here?"
Christina turned. Relief crossed her face and was followed immediately by dismay, as though the one person she had most wanted to surprise had arrived at the exact moment she least wanted to be seen. William was beside her before she could think of an explanation. When he saw the wet brightness in her eyes, his own expression changed.
"Why are you crying?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"
"No, sweetheart. I'm all right. I just came to look at something for your birthday."
He looked toward the blue car, then back to her. "Grandma, you know you don't have to buy me anything. You are more than enough. Tell me what happened."
"Your grandmother was causing a scene," Croft said before Christina could answer. "We were explaining our purchasing procedures. She refused to understand."
Anna turned sharply. "That is not what happened. She asked to see the blue sports car, and this man laughed at her, mocked her clothes, and threatened to have security remove her. I heard every word."
William looked at her. He registered her anger, the concern on the guard's face, and the way the receptionist behind the desk appeared to be holding her breath. He had built his career by listening before speaking, but there were moments when the facts arrived with a terrible simplicity. His grandmother's shoulders were hunched, and she had never stood like that in a room where she felt welcome.
"Is that true?" he asked Croft. "You told her to leave because of how she was dressed?"
Croft examined the suit, the leather shoes, and the watch beneath William's cuff. For an instant he seemed inclined to reconsider his assessment, but William's tone offended him before the reconsideration had time to take hold. He decided he was dealing with another man attempting to impress a showroom manager with expensive clothing and invented authority.
"And who exactly are you?" Croft demanded. "Another customer who thinks a good suit makes him important?"
"I'm her grandson," William said. "That's all you need to know."
"Then perhaps you should teach her to be realistic. She pointed at one of the most expensive vehicles in the building as though she could just take it home."