“Of course.”
Diane smiled again.
It was technically polite.
It did not feel polite.
Emily began entering information into the register.
Camille gave her identification because the purchase value required it under Bellanova policy. She provided her billing address, inserted her card, entered the code, and waited. The terminal processed for several seconds.
APPROVED.
Emily smiled.
“Perfect.”
Diane remained beside them.
Camille noticed.
Emily printed the receipt.
The bracelet was placed in its velvet case, wrapped inside a protective pouch, and finally placed inside a cream Bellanova bag with blue ribbon handles. Camille checked the receipt, thanked Emily, and slipped it into the outer pocket of her portfolio.
The purchase was finished.
Diane still did not leave.
“May I ask what you do?”
Camille looked at her.
“I’m sorry?”
“For work.”
Camille paused.
“Interior design.”
“Oh.”
Diane’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Residential?”
“Some.”
“Commercial?”
“Some.”
“Interesting.”
Camille smiled faintly.
“Why?”
Diane laughed.
“No reason. Making conversation.”
But she walked away only after watching Camille slide the shopping bag onto her wrist.
Camille had experienced enough rooms like this to recognize the feeling developing in her stomach.
Nothing explicit had happened.
Nobody had insulted her.
Nobody had denied the purchase.
Yet something had shifted from customer service into observation.
She hated how familiar that shift felt.
Camille thanked Emily again.
Then she walked toward the exit.
She was less than ten feet from the doors when Diane appeared beside her.
“Excuse me, Ms. Dawson.”
Camille stopped.
“Yes?”
“Could you come back to the counter for a moment?”
“Why?”
“There may be an issue with the transaction.”
Camille frowned.
“What issue?”
Diane glanced toward the shopping bag.
“We just need to verify something.”
Camille reached into her portfolio.
“The receipt?”
“No.”
“The payment?”
“We’re reviewing it.”
“It was approved.”
Diane’s smile returned.
“I understand that is what the terminal indicated.”
Camille stared at her.
“That is what the terminal indicated because the payment was approved.”
Several customers looked toward them.
Diane lowered her voice.
“There is no need to become upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
Camille looked around.
“I’m confused.”
A security guard appeared from near the rear of the store.
Then another.
Camille noticed Emily watching from behind the register.
Her face had changed.
She looked worried.
Camille held up the bag.
“Is somebody saying I stole this?”
Diane did not answer directly.
“We need to make certain everything is in order.”
“It was in order twelve minutes ago.”
Diane looked toward the security guards.
Camille understood.
“Are you stopping me from leaving?”
“We would prefer that you remain while we clarify.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Diane’s voice hardened slightly.
“Ms. Dawson, please cooperate.”
Camille laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.