Her hands were tired before the doors opened. One fastening caught on the edge of the velvet tray when she lifted it. She tried to adjust her grip, but the tray tilted, and a scattering of gold earrings slid onto the marble. The sound was light, almost musical, but it made Leah's stomach drop. She went down on her knees immediately, gathering each piece before a customer could step on it.
Derek appeared over her shoulder. His face changed when he saw the empty spaces in the tray. "Do you have any idea what those pieces cost?" he demanded.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell. The edge caught, and I—"
"Every time somebody tells me they have experience, this is what I get." He folded his arms. "Count them. If anything is missing, we'll be having a serious conversation about who pays for it."
Leah swallowed hard. Her hands shook, which only made the tiny clasps harder to pick up. Two other associates pretended not to hear, although everyone in the department heard clearly. Leah had never felt so exposed. She had worked hard for this position, and already she could picture herself being sent home over a simple accident.
It was into that scene that Nadine wheeled Willa Saunders at ten fifteen in the morning.
Nadine guided the chair carefully across the threshold while Willa looked at the familiar limestone entrance and the much less familiar faces. This was the flagship she had helped select, furnish, and open years earlier, although much of its interior had since been remodeled. She recognized the curve of the central staircase, the pattern in the marble, and the carved wooden panels behind the counters. Those details were echoes of arguments she had once won with architects who wanted something colder and more imposing. She had insisted the building should feel elegant without making anyone afraid to touch the door.
For an instant, the sight of the young associate kneeling near the jewelry cases carried her forty-six years backward. On the first morning her Trade Street shop opened, Willa had dropped a box of silver bracelets because nerves made her fingers slippery. They had scattered across the floor as her first customer stepped inside. Willa remembered the woman's kind expression, the way she helped collect the bracelets, and the practical reassurance she offered while Willa tried not to cry. That early customer had become a friend and had returned to shop with her daughters for decades.
Leah was close to tears now. Derek stood above her as if he expected embarrassment to teach some lesson that patience could not. A small gold earring had rolled several feet from the others and stopped just beyond Willa's front wheel. Nadine noticed it first and moved to pick it up, but Willa lifted one finger to ask her to wait.
"I can reach that," she said.
"Miss Willa, your wrist," Nadine whispered.