"All right," he said softly. "We'll take care of you, and we'll take care of the pendant. I promise."
He stood and faced the room. Officer Bell and Officer Morales watched him carefully. Derek hovered near the counter, still assuming he could turn the situation around with the right words. Nadine remained behind the wheelchair, her eyes red from anger and worry. Grace and Martin were still present, their phones now lowered but their recordings preserved.
Terrence took a corporate identification badge from his jacket. It bore his photograph and the words BEAUMONT LUXURY HOLDINGS, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER. He held it so the officers and employees could read it. Then he spoke in a tone that carried across the marble without becoming a shout.
"My name is Terrence Saunders. I am the chief executive officer of Beaumont Luxury Holdings. The board appointed me ten days ago."
Derek's expression changed. The smile faded, and his eyes moved to the badge, then to Terrence's face, as though he expected some ordinary explanation to rescue him. He knew the Beaumont surname from shareholder materials. He knew the company founder had retired years ago. He had never bothered learning what she looked like now.
"The woman in that wheelchair is Willa Saunders," Terrence continued. "My mother. She opened the first Beaumont Gallery on Trade Street in 1980 with eight thousand dollars she saved from sewing other people's clothes. She built that little shop into this company. Forty-two locations. A business valued at roughly 1.2 billion dollars."
The room was so quiet that the music seemed suddenly louder. Leah's hand moved to her mouth. Patricia stopped breathing for a moment, or felt as though she had. Curtis looked from Willa to the photographs displayed along the store's history wall, where the founder's name appeared in small lettering beneath a picture taken decades earlier.
Terrence looked around slowly. "My mother chose the standards this company was founded on. She helped design this store, approved its opening, and taught generations of employees that dignity wasn't something a customer had to purchase first. Every fixture here, every counter, every paycheck this business makes possible exists because of the work she began."
He paused, then turned his attention back to Derek. "She came in today to buy a birthday gift for her granddaughter. I am told you refused to show her the item, searched her belongings without permission, struck her hand, and kicked her wheelchair. I would like to hear why."
Derek opened his mouth. "Mr. Saunders, sir, I had no idea. This has been a terrible misunderstanding."
"What did you misunderstand?" Terrence asked.
"If I'd known who she was, of course—"
"You knew she was an elderly customer in a wheelchair. You knew she was asking to buy merchandise. Was that not enough?"