“You really do follow fashion.”
The woman smiled again.
Before either could say more, another voice cut across the counter.
“Excuse me.”
The tone was not curious.
It was corrective.
The associate looked up.
So did the Black woman.
A blonde woman in her late forties stood several feet away.
She wore an immaculate white pantsuit.
Not cream.
Not beige.
Bright, deliberate white.
A silk blouse underneath.
Pearl earrings.
White pointed heels.
An ivory handbag with gold hardware.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair had been styled into soft waves that had not moved once since she entered.
She looked expensive.
And angry.
Beside her stood another woman carrying three shopping bags.
The blonde woman pointed toward the bracelet.
“That’s from the private preview.”
The associate nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I was told the preview required an appointment.”
“It usually does.”
The blonde woman looked toward the Black woman.
“Then why is she touching it?”
The associate’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“The piece is available for viewing at staff discretion.”
The blonde woman frowned.
“I’ve spent nearly forty thousand dollars in this store this year.”
The associate remained polite.
“We appreciate your business.”
“And she just walks in?”
The Black woman turned slowly.
The blonde woman’s eyes moved over her.
Hair.
Jewelry.
Clothes.
Bag.
Shoes.
Not admiring.
Evaluating.
The Black woman knew the look.
She had seen versions of it since childhood.
People trying to solve the problem of her presence.
The associate said:
“Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes.”
The blonde woman pointed toward the bracelet.
“I want to see that.”
The associate nodded.
“Certainly.”
She moved to retrieve another display pad.
The Black woman stepped back.
No argument.
No claim of priority.
She looked toward another case.
The blonde woman watched her.
Something about the lack of reaction seemed to irritate her.
“Are you buying it?”
she asked.
The Black woman turned.
“I haven’t decided.”
The blonde woman laughed.
Not kindly.
The associate stiffened.
The Black woman remained calm.
“Was there something funny?”
The blonde woman smiled.
“No.”
Then:
“I just find it interesting.”
“What?”
“That they’re letting anyone handle unreleased pieces now.”
The associate intervened.
“Ma’am, she is a customer.”
The blonde woman glanced at her.
“You don’t know that.”