“Oh? Seems like an important piece to you.”
“It is. You have no idea.”
The door opened, interrupting the quiet with the noise of foot traffic outside. Sylvie glanced over to see a trio of men walk in.
“I’ll be with you gentlemen in a bit,” said the jeweler.
One lifted his hand. “No rush. We’ll just look around.”
Sylvie turned back to the counter.
“You were looking to sell?” he prompted.
“Oh, yes. Well, I’m in a terrible financial bind. I made the mistake of trusting the wrong person, and I—well, you don’t need all the gory details—but it’s bad, and this is the only thing I have left. I don’t want to sell it, but I really don’t have a choice.”
“I see.”
“I came here because you have a reputation for fair pricing. And I swear I’m not making all this up like some kind of sob story to make you feel sorry for me. I’d never do that. I just—sorry, I tend to over share.”
The jeweler took off the glasses and laid them on the counter.
Sylvie’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to buy it. She’d be forced to go to a pawn shop, where she’d get pennies on the dollar for what it was actually worth. But the jeweler merely picked up a loupe and began to examine the stones. As her stomach knotted, Sylvie clasped her hands and resigned herself to waiting, while this man determined whether she’d sink or have the chance to keep on swimming.
~*~
Everett paused in front of a case of watches and tried to look like he wasn’t shamelessly eavesdropping. It was a terrible compulsion, but the moment she’d mentioned she was in financial trouble, he couldn’t help but tune in.
She was southern. A drawl underscored the earnest tone as she tried to correct whatever impression she thought she’d given. As the jeweler picked up a loupe to examine the stones in the ring, Everett glanced over at the woman. She wore a good quality red parka, worn but good boots, and seemed properly dressed for the weather. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose braid. It gave him a clear view of her profile and the spots of color riding high in her cheeks. Embarrassment. And some anxiety, he thought, catching sight of the hands she was wringing as she waited.
What had brought her so low that she was selling a piece that clearly meant a lot to her?
“What do you think of this one over here?”
“Huh?” Everett turned his attention to Brandon, crossing to a case on the other side to see what he was pointing out. “No, not marquis. Isabelle has little hands. You want something more delicate. Princess or round.”
The jeweler finished his inspection. “It’s certainly an exquisite piece and there’s a market for antique rings, but you must understand, I won’t be your best bet for maximizing profit.”
“You have a business to run and access to wholesale markets. I get that.”
“I wouldn’t ordinarily bring this up, but given your unique circumstance, I feel I should. I have a colleague down in Denver who deals in consignment. He has a generous 70/30 split of the sale price. With the current market, you’d do considerably better going that route.”
“I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not in a position to wait, and I don’t have a way to get to Denver at the moment. Wha
t’s the best you can do?”
Everett shifted so he could see the woman as she took the slip of paper the jeweler offered. Her eyes closed after she read it and she swallowed once, hard.
“I’m sorry it can’t be more.”
Though she looked pained, the woman nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“I’ll put together the paperwork.”
As the jeweler disappeared to an office in the back, the woman knuckled away tears and picked up the ring. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Travis elbowed him. “Earth to Everett. How about checking back in to this planet and offering up some opinions.”
“Sorry, sorry.”