"You see somebody who doesn't fit the room," he told them, "you redirect. Discreetly. No drama, no unnecessary conversation. The people who actually spend money shouldn't have to wonder why somebody is wandering around touching everything."
There was no formal company policy supporting his instructions. Beaumont's published guidelines required respectful service to every guest, an emphasis Willa herself had helped write decades earlier. Derek knew the distinction but rarely worried about it. He spoke of atmosphere and discretion instead of race or income because those words sounded professional enough to discourage questions.
Patricia Ellis, the senior associate, nodded immediately. She had worked under Derek for several years and understood the small rewards that came from agreeing with him. She was proficient at merchandising and knew the flagship's high-value inventory almost by memory, but she had developed the habit of predicting what would please Derek rather than asking what was right. In her mind, loyalty to the manager had slowly replaced loyalty to the company or its customers.
Curtis Boyd listened from the doorway. He was twenty-eight, a Black American security officer who had joined the store only weeks earlier after working at a medical facility. He wore a dark uniform and kept his hair neatly cropped. At his previous job, he had learned that the first obligation of security was to reduce harm, especially when dealing with frightened or vulnerable people. At Beaumont, he was discovering that Derek sometimes used the word security when he really meant removing people who made him uncomfortable.
Curtis's stomach tightened during the briefing, but he said nothing. He needed the job. His younger sister was in school, and he helped his mother with rent. He was still new enough to believe that perhaps he had misunderstood the tone of Derek's remarks. When everyone filed back onto the sales floor, he resolved to pay attention and decide whether the pattern he was noticing was real.
The flagship itself was an elaborate monument to the company Willa had built. Pale marble tiles reflected crystal chandeliers, and rows of softly lit display cases held jewelry, watches, and rare accessories. Hand-carved wooden counters gleamed beneath a finish selected to complement the stone. A fragrance of leather and jasmine drifted through the entrance. The store's beauty had cost years of design work and enormous expense, but to Willa the greatest accomplishment had always been making a person feel welcome inside it.
Near the jewelry department, a new associate named Leah Monroe was preparing a tray of gold earrings for display. She was twenty-two and had been employed for less than a month, still learning product codes and the precise arrangement Derek expected on every counter. She had worked in retail while attending community college, but nothing in her earlier experience had prepared her for the anxiety of handling expensive pieces while a manager watched for mistakes. That morning she had come in early and reviewed the inventory twice because she was determined not to give Derek a reason to criticize her.