"Hold on," he snapped as Gloria lifted one hand toward the edge of the door handle, still several inches away. He reached out and struck her hand aside with an open palm, a sharp, dismissive motion that startled her more than it hurt. "You can't put greasy hands on a brand-new vehicle." Gloria stepped back. "I hadn't touched it," she said quietly, staring at the hand he had just pushed away.
A few people had seen it. One was a young salesman arranging brochures by the entrance, who turned his face toward the wall with the unmistakable discomfort of someone who knew a line had been crossed. Another was Kelsey, who laughed nervously as Derek rubbed his own palm against the front of his jacket. The third was a woman standing beside the printers at the far end of the floor, sorting a stack of warranty documents. Her name was Anna Morales, and she stopped sorting when she heard the change in Gloria's voice.
"Kelsey, get the plastic and the stanchions," Derek ordered. Kelsey blinked. "For the van?" "For the van," he repeated, glancing toward Gloria.
"If she wants to stare at it, she can stare from outside. I don't want fingerprints all over the paint." Within minutes, a clear protective sheet had been drawn around the front and side of the silver passenger van, held by black posts normally used to guide visitors during special events.
Gloria stood beyond the makeshift barrier, a customer separated from merchandise she had asked to inspect. The arrangement was ridiculous enough to attract attention, which Derek appeared to enjoy. "There," he announced. "Now nobody has to worry about the display." Kelsey gave another laugh, louder this time, while a man near the entrance looked away in embarrassment. Gloria closed her folder and stood very still, the way she did when deciding whether a situation deserved more of her time.
There had been a time when she would have answered an insult with an argument sharp enough to keep a room quiet. Years of bidding on school contracts, negotiating insurance renewals, and explaining to bank officers why a woman with an aging bus could run a profitable transportation service had given her plenty of practice. But Gloria had learned something else: sometimes the most useful information a person gives you is what they reveal when they think you cannot do anything about it. She did not shout, demand a manager, or threaten a complaint. She simply made herself remember the sequence of what had happened, down to the catalog on the floor and the plastic around the van.
"Come on, Kelsey," Derek said. "The couple by the entrance actually looks ready to buy." He straightened his cuffs and walked toward a pair of customers who had arrived in a late-model sports car, wearing smiles he had withheld from Gloria. Within seconds he was offering complimentary coffee, a private consultation room, and an immediate test drive. Gloria watched just long enough to understand that the showroom had not run out of hospitality. It had only decided not to spend any on her.