"I know. Give me a moment."
Willa leaned forward. The effort sent a sharp ache through her shoulder, and she had to pause with her fingertips hovering an inch above the floor. She adjusted her balance against the armrest, tried again, and finally closed her fingers around the tiny piece. When she straightened, her breath was shallow, but the earring rested safely in her palm.
"Here you are, sweetheart," Willa said, holding it out to Leah. "Take a breath. Everybody drops things. You're doing fine."
Leah stared at her, surprised by the gentleness. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm so sorry you had to bend down."
"Don't apologize to me for an accident," Willa replied. "Count them carefully, and you'll have them all. That's what matters."
The words were ordinary, but Leah felt something inside her settle. She reached for the earring, and for the first time since the tray fell, her hands were steady enough to count properly. Derek watched the exchange without smiling. To him, Willa had interfered with a management correction in front of his employees. He could not bear to think that a quiet remark from a stranger might be more useful than the embarrassment he had deliberately created.
"Leah, finish the inventory," he said sharply. "And I don't need customers encouraging carelessness on my floor."
Willa looked up at him, mildly puzzled. She could have told him that fear was a poor teacher and that people who handled beautiful objects needed enough confidence to do the work properly. She could have reminded him that a customer had once helped her pick up bracelets in the first Beaumont store. But she had come to buy a birthday present, and her energy was precious. She turned toward Nadine and nodded to continue.
As they crossed the store, Willa studied details most shoppers would overlook. One display shelf had a slightly crooked light, and the angle of a spotlight made the silver jewelry appear gray. Near the leather goods, a sales associate polished a cabinet while ignoring a couple who seemed unsure where to begin. Willa knew that the same company could have excellent merchandise and poor service. She had spent years warning her managers that beautiful floors would never compensate for an ugly welcome.
Nadine noticed the way Willa was looking around. "You see something you don't like?"
"A few things," Willa said. "But mostly I see how fast a place can change when you're not paying attention."
She did not say more. She still did not see the visit as an inspection. She was simply an older woman studying a store she remembered loving, aware that familiarity sometimes made changes more painful to notice.
The sapphire collection stood behind a long locked case near the center of the jewelry department. Soft lights illuminated pendants arranged on dark velvet. There were diamonds, colored stones, and delicate gold chains that glittered each time someone walked past. Willa knew exactly which pendant she wanted. The catalog photograph had shown a teardrop sapphire set in white gold, simple enough for Amara to wear for years without looking like she had borrowed jewelry from an older woman's wardrobe.