Chapter 1

I put my hand on the man’s arm before I noticed the manager running toward us.

The man had asked to buy a necklace. I had looked at his faded jacket, his scuffed shoes, and the rain drying on his sleeves. Then I had told him to leave.

He hadn’t raised his voice.

I had.

“People like you can’t afford anything here,” I’d said.

He had looked at the display behind me. “I’d still like to see that necklace.”

I pointed at the door.

When he stayed where he was, I grabbed him. His arm felt warm beneath the damp cloth of his jacket. I was about to pull him toward the entrance when Mr. Hale caught my wrist.

“Let go,” my manager said.

I released the man. Mr. Hale stepped between us and bent forward so quickly that the keys clipped to his belt swung out.

“Mr. Sterling. Welcome back.”

I looked from one face to the other.

The man in the worn jacket said nothing.

“Who is he?” I asked.

Mr. Hale straightened, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Mr. Elijah Sterling owns the company.”

I had worked at Sterling Jewelers for fourteen months. Elijah Sterling’s name was etched into the brass plate beside our front door. I had never seen his photograph.

My stomach dropped.

Mr. Sterling reached into his pocket and took out a small black velvet box. He turned it over once in his hand.

I thought he might show us a ring. Instead, he looked at Mr. Hale.

“I came to ask about a repair.”

“Of course,” Mr. Hale said. “My office is ready.”

Mr. Sterling remained beside the door. “Claire can hear me.”

Hearing my name startled me. It was on the badge pinned to my jacket. I suddenly wanted to take the badge off.

He opened the box.

Inside lay a silver necklace with a tiny blue stone. The chain had broken near the clasp. It was beautiful, but it was not the kind of piece we kept under armed glass.

“My wife wore this for thirty-eight years,” he said. “I promised my granddaughter she could wear it at her graduation tomorrow.”

Mr. Hale’s hand went to his tie.

“We can have our jeweler repair it today.”

“That’s why I came.”

Mr. Sterling closed the box and looked at me.

“You decided I didn’t belong here before I could explain.”

I tried to speak. My mouth had gone dry.

Mr. Hale touched my shoulder.

“Claire is new. She misunderstood.”

“I understood him,” I said quietly.

Both men turned to me.

The words had escaped before I knew what I would say next. I wanted Mr. Hale’s excuse. I wanted any excuse. But I could still feel my hand closing around Mr. Sterling’s arm.

“I understood what he asked for,” I said. “I refused to help him.”

Mr. Sterling held my gaze for another moment. Then he turned to Mr. Hale.

“Please get the necklace to the jeweler. I’ll wait.”

Mr. Hale hurried toward the back room with the box.

The store fell silent. Two customers stood near the watch counter. My coworker Priya was behind the register, staring at her hands.

I stepped aside so Mr. Sterling could sit. He remained standing.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I hear you.”

He looked down at his sleeve, where my fingers had left a crease.

I felt heat rise in my face.

“I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No,” he said. “You shouldn’t have.”

The customer nearest us set down the bracelet she had been examining. She walked out without a word. The bell above the door rang once.

Mr. Sterling watched her leave.

“How many people have heard something like that in this store?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Think.”

I remembered a delivery driver who had come in to ask about a gift for his wife. I had pointed him toward a cheaper shop. I remembered a woman with a stroller whom Mr. Hale had told to return when she was ready to buy. She never had.

“I don’t know the number,” I said.

“That’s an answer.”

He took a seat near the front window.

I had imagined the owner of a luxury chain arriving with a driver and a tailored coat. He had come alone, carrying a necklace that mattered to his family.

I went to the counter to get the repair form. Priya moved over to make space.

“You need to tell him about last Tuesday,” she whispered.

I stared at her.

“What happened last Tuesday?”

“The woman with the red scarf. You told Mr. Hale she wanted her necklace back.”

I remembered her at once. She had come to collect a repair and left upset when Mr. Hale said it wasn’t ready.

“She did want it back.”

“She came again yesterday,” Priya said. “He told her there was no record she’d brought it in.”

I looked toward the office.

“That’s impossible. I wrote the receipt.”

“I know.”

Mr. Hale came out before I could ask more. He said the jeweler could finish Mr. Sterling’s repair by evening. Then he asked me to join him in his office.

Mr. Sterling rose.

“First,” he said, “I’d like to hear about the woman in the red scarf.”

Priya went still.

Mr. Hale’s smile vanished.