"They're still working," William said. "And they're being interviewed about what needs to change. Nobody lost their job for telling the truth."
"Good," Christina replied. "Because if the only thing that comes out of this is one man losing his paycheck and everybody else acting as if nothing happened, then nothing much has been learned."
William looked at the report on his desk. He had wanted to tell his grandmother that the man who hurt her would no longer be there, assuming that would bring relief. Instead she had reminded him that the real measure of what happened was how people would be treated the following month, when nobody was paying special attention.
"We're changing the training and reporting process," he said. "Martin is reviewing all the complaints, and we'll be getting feedback from visitors who didn't buy anything."
"And the next elderly woman who walks in carrying an old handbag?"
"She'll be welcome."
Christina allowed a pause. "Don't make promises you haven't tested yet, baby. Test it. Then tell me what you find."
On Friday morning, five days after Christina's visit to the gallery, a letter arrived on thick cream paper. She examined the envelope before opening it because her generation had been taught to distrust important-looking correspondence that arrived without warning. Inside was an apology from Martin Sterling, written in language so plain that Christina suspected he had resisted somebody's suggestion to make it sound more polished. He acknowledged the humiliating treatment she received, accepted responsibility for failures in the company's complaint procedures, and explained the steps already underway.
The letter did not offer a discount, a gift basket, or a photograph with the gallery's management. It told her she had no obligation to return, that her request for service records would be honored if she wanted them, and that the company intended to evaluate whether its reforms worked over time. Christina read it once, then a second time, and placed it beside Samuel's old repair manual on the kitchen counter.
She liked the apology better than she expected. Too often, she had seen people apologize for the discomfort of being criticized rather than for the conduct that caused the criticism. Martin had not asked her to make him feel forgiven, and she appreciated the absence of that demand. Still, appreciation did not tell her whether she wanted to enter the showroom again.
She called Anna instead. They had spoken twice since Saturday, discovering a shared appreciation for strong coffee and old music. Anna was surprised when Christina asked whether she knew a mechanic who could inspect a used Porsche without having an interest in selling it.
"I do," Anna said. "My brother's friend runs a specialty inspection shop near Chamblee. But I thought you weren't sure you wanted the car anymore."
"I'm not sure," Christina replied. "I learned a long time ago that fear makes decisions look like wisdom if you wait long enough. I want to separate how that man made me feel from whether the car itself is a good choice."