Chapter 12 #2
“Henry! What are you doing here?” I asked. He was handsome as always with his boyish smile, neatly combed auburn hair, and lawyer’s suit.
Julien shook his hand. “Come to buy something for Marjorie?”
Henry grimaced. “I broke it off with her. We had nothing in common in the end.”
The spark of pleasure his words inspired was unexpected.
I wanted to add that Marjorie was impossible to talk to, even if she was one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen.
She didn’t care for reading, didn’t play games or instruments, and wasn’t creative, and as far as I could tell, she had no hobbies outside of shopping.
I’d found it baffling Henry should date her for months.
It was clear she wasn’t his type—at least it had been clear to me.
“She doesn’t deserve you,” I said emphatically.
A fleeting emotion passed over his features, and then he grinned. “You think so?”
“I know so.” I grinned back at him, and he blushed. I was about to tease him the way I’d done my whole life when he changed the subject.
“Say, let me have a look at your rings.” He skirted the edge of the table and bent over the tray.
He picked up each one, studying them intently.
Though he wasn’t a jeweler, we’d taught him well over the years.
He knew to look for the four C’s of gemstone grading: cut, color, clarity, and carat weight.
He also knew he needed a magnifying glass to see inclusions, or impurities, in the stones.
“What do you think?” I asked, suddenly shy.
He rotated the globe ring to watch the stones catch the light. “I like this one in particular. It looks like Earth. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I warmed to his praise. I liked it best, too, because it was a globe made of stones, as our world was. “Thank you.”
“Have you sold any today?”
“Not yet,” Julien cut in, “but she will. Someone is going to fall in love with her style one day. You’ll see,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“They will,” Henry agreed. “I already am! If I had someone to buy them for…”
I knew the three men in my life—the people I cared about most in the world—supported me, and I was grateful for it, but it wasn’t enough.
They couldn’t exactly force others to see the merit in my work.
I needed the impeccably groomed, handbag-clutching, nose-in-the-air types that circled the room to take notice, too.
Or I needed to do something else entirely with my time and set aside the dream my father and I had so carefully guarded.
As the hours passed, we sold several pieces, thanks to Julien and his sunny good looks and bright smile. I, meanwhile, hadn’t sold a single thing. Worse yet, no one had so much as paused to look at my collection.
As a new group of women arrived, a buzz of excitement rippled through the crowd of attendees.
They wore smart dresses and gloves and Merry Widow hats with wide brims and layers of chiffon that resembled the layers of a cake adorned with flowers and feathers or taxidermy birds.
These women were the elite of the city, and every jeweler in attendance pinned their hopes on securing a sizable sale or, at the very least, serious interest in their work.
Eventually a pair of them arrived at our table.
“Aren’t these just gorgeous,” the woman with red hair said. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. She wore a comely yellow gown with a sailor collar and a triple string of pearls with an oval clasp studded with diamonds.
Julien flashed his perfect row of pearly whites. “Good morning, miss—”
“Mrs.,” she corrected him. “Mrs. Wellington. How do you do.”
“I’m doing just fine. Very happy to meet you, Mrs. Wellington,” Julien replied, his eyes twinkling, his dimples on full display. He was flirting, something he did well with the socialites to encourage them to open their purses. “I see you have exquisite taste.”
Amusement danced over Mrs. Wellington’s pretty features. “I like to think so.”
“Is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”
She met his eye. “I thought so at one time, but now I’m not so sure. What I’m looking for has changed, Mr.—”
“Beaumont. Julien Beaumont.”
“Oh? Are you French?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I was born in a small town outside of Paris, but I’ve lived my whole life here in the DC area.”
“Aren’t we lucky for that.”
I gaped at her openly flirtatious manner. A woman of her breeding was rarely so forward.
“I’ve always heard you make your own luck.” Julien smiled his most charming smile, and I expected to see the woman melt on the spot, given the way she was looking at him.
“I couldn’t agree more.” She diverted her gaze to our trays of jewelry. “These are beautiful.” She fingered a pair of gold earrings shaped like a fan. “I can’t imagine how you made them.”
“I’m an expert at making beautiful things. And caring for them, too.”
“Is that so.” A gleam shone in her crystal blue eyes, and for a moment, it appeared they’d both forgotten they were in the company of others.
I nearly shoved my brother for being so forward. The whole exchange was nauseating. But she was undeniably attractive, and I knew Julien could never resist something or someone beautiful. He was like a magpie in that way.
As two other women joined her, she leaned closer to Julien.
“There’s a party at the McLeans’ house next week.
” She returned the exquisite platinum brooch shaped like a fly with sapphire and diamond wings trapped in a spider’s web.
“Why don’t you drop by? Bring a sample case of your favorite pieces.
I know a lot of women would like your collection very much. ”
“Mrs. McLean won’t mind if I stop by unannounced and uninvited?” He smiled at her again.
“Not at all. She’s one of my dearest friends. I already know she’d be delighted to have you. In fact, you may steal the show.” She fluttered her lashes at him.
“I doubt that, given present company.”
It took every effort not to roll my eyes.
A smile spread across the perfect contours of her beautiful face. “I’ll forward the address to your shop.”
When the women had moved on to another table and were safely out of earshot, I said, “You sure poured that on thick.”
He shrugged. “She bought one of our pieces, and I booked a showing at a private residence—and not just any private residence. The McLeans’ house.”
“Doesn’t she own—”
“The Hope Diamond,” we said in unison.
We exchanged a look that said more than we could aloud: This was the chance of a lifetime.
* * *
I gasped as the bazaar came sharply into focus once more.
That was the day we’d first connected with the McLeans.
I’d forgotten, assumed Julien had approached Evalyn on his own by calling to her house directly in hopes of gaining a new high-profile client.
He’d done such things in the past. But no—it was because of Carrie Wellington!
I knew I’d recognized her that first day in Evalyn’s parlor.
My mind raced as I remembered that she’d encouraged Evalyn to hire me.
Was she the reason Julien had been so busy, so absent those few weeks before his death? My stomach swam with unease.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” A woman of solid stature pushed around me where I stood in the middle of the walkway.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I stammered, the daydream that had paralyzed me for a moment dissipating like smoke.
I moved out of the way and joined the circulation of people at the jewelry booths.
But I didn’t see the jewelers’ artistry in the dozens of well-crafted pieces.
All I could see was the scene from months ago—of Carrie and the beginnings of my brother’s dark future among the McLeans—replaying behind my eyes.