The Hope Keeper
I escape the tedium and uncertainty of turnover from hand to hand, collector to collector, because Pierre Cartier values me, for a time.
But soon, he attempts to sell me as the others have—to those who deem themselves more important than the rest, as money has set them apart.
His attempts are fruitless. I am admired, but most fear my reputation.
Until one fine day.
A man and woman visit the boutique. They are merry, newly wed, and she will have all she desires.
“You are special customers,” Pierre says to them, leading them to his office. “Let me show you my most prized pieces.” He places me on a tray with other gemstones, all the while speaking to the couple in soft tones, explaining the provenance of each, cajoling them, tempting them.
The woman’s eyes shine with lust, and I wonder if she will have me.
“How beautiful!” she exclaims as her husband looks on, his reserve plain.
“This is the most special stone of all,” my keeper says. “It is the Hope Diamond.”
“But this diamond is much bigger, its setting newer.” She points instead to the pear-shaped white diamond of spectacular clarity. “Does it have a name?”
As Pierre regards the woman, he now understands. Evalyn McLean lives to impress others, and she wants the best of everything, the most, and the largest stone of all.
“Ah,” Pierre says. “The pear diamond is the Star of the East. Though its origins are unknown, it is said to have been stolen from India before it traveled to Persia. I purchased it from an Ottoman sultan. It is nearly ninety-five carats in size.”
Evalyn turns to her husband, who shakes his head. “We’ll need to ask your father for more money.”
“Don’t worry. There is plenty, and he always gives me more,” she says with a pointed smile. Turning to Pierre, she says, “I want the Star.”
And I am forgotten again for a short time.
Pierre says goodbye to the couple with a promise to keep in touch.
He has a plan, you see. In time, he lovingly creates a new setting for me, a halo of bright-white cushion diamonds that flatter my facets, and I become more beautiful than ever.
But he knows my beauty is not enough, for he understands something no one else does.
It is my story that matters most.
This is how he lures her back to me, despite her laughter at such tales, despite my price.
He warns her of the dark spell beyond my beauty, but Evalyn does not fear the dark, and she does not believe in bad luck.
Yet when she first wears me proudly around her neck, she receives a stark and unsettling warning.
She even attempts to rid herself of me briefly. Ever so briefly.
But I am hers—and she is mine—and our story is not finished yet.