“You’re welcome.”
Cassandra started to walk away.
Then stopped.
A thought apparently amused her.
She turned back.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“If you keep it spotless, maybe the actual owner will tip you.”
The younger employees went silent.
Simone stared at Cassandra for several seconds.
Not angry.
Studying.
There were moments in business when people told you far more than they intended because they believed consequences did not exist.
This felt like one.
Simone looked down at the key fob in her hand.
Then back at Cassandra.
“Actual owner.”
“Yes.”
Cassandra gestured toward the white sedan.
“Cars like this don’t come cheap.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Simone’s eyebrows rose.
Cassandra smiled as though she had won something.
A man in a navy suit had appeared near the glass corridor behind them.
Martin Hale.
General manager.
Fifty-three.
Silver at his temples.
Twenty years in automotive retail.
He had been moving quickly until he heard Cassandra.
Then he stopped.
His face changed.
Cassandra had not noticed him.
Simone had.
That made the next ten seconds almost unfair.
Cassandra continued.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m not trying to be rude.”
Simone almost smiled.
“No?”
“No.”
“But presentation matters here.”
“Sterling Crown has standards.”
Simone looked around the showroom.
“Apparently.”
Cassandra mistook the response.
“If you want advice, I’d change before customers start arriving.”
Simone glanced at the clock.
“Customers are already here.”
Cassandra sighed.
“You know what I mean.”
Simone picked up the key fob.
Cassandra looked at it.
Then laughed.
“What, they let you hold the keys too?”