Part Eight: The Transaction
The saleswoman — her name, Robert had seen on her tag, was Diane — carried out the rest of the transaction with the thoroughness of someone who has decided to undo something with her competence that she cannot undo with her words.
She brought the pendant out and explained each element of it: the stones, which were white topaz rather than diamonds, arranged by a jeweler who had been working with the store for twelve years; the chain, which was sterling silver with a clasp she demonstrated three times; the care instructions, which she recited and then wrote down on a small card because Lily asked her to write them down, because Lily was the kind of person who wanted things in writing.
She gift-wrapped it. She did not ask if they wanted it gift-wrapped. She simply began the process with the quiet efficiency of someone who has decided this is the minimum she can offer.
James paid. The amount was what he had calculated, and what he had rearranged other things to accommodate, and when the transaction was complete he felt the specific satisfaction of someone who has done what they came to do.
Diane handed the wrapped box to Lily directly.
“Happy birthday,” she said.
Lily looked at her. The assessing look, the one that had been operating since they walked in, arrived at its conclusion. “Thank you,” Lily said, with the specific dignity of a person who has decided to be gracious rather than to be satisfied about something. “Your store is very beautiful.”
Diane’s expression, when Lily said this, was the expression of someone receiving something they know they did not earn and feel the full weight of not having earned.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hope you enjoy it.”
