James released the lock and opened the way before the bell was rung. "Good evening, Mr. diPietro."
The handshake was firm and short, the voice deep and sharp, the eyes cold and gray. "Are we ready?"
"Yes." James hesitated. "Will your intended be joining us?"
"No."
James shut the door and indicated the way to the back, studiously ignoring how Janice's eyes clung to the man. "May we offer you a libation?"
"You can start showing me diamonds, how about that."
"As you wish."
The private viewing room had oil paintings on the walls, a large antique desk, and four gold chairs. There was also a microscope, a black velvet exhibition pad, the chilling ice wine, and two crystal glasses. James nodded at his staff and Terrence came forward to remove the silver bucket while Janice took away the globlets with a bit of a fluster. William remained in the doorway, at the ready for any requests.
Mr. diPietro took a seat and put his hands on the desk, a platinum Chopard watch flashing from beneath his cuff. Those eyes of his, which were the same color as the watch, didn't so much as focus on James as bore right through to the back of his skull.
James cleared his throat as he sat opposite the man. "Pursuant to our conversation, I have pulled a selection of stones from our collection as well as called in a number of diamonds from Antwerp directly."
James took out a gold key and inserted it into a lock in the top drawer of the desk. When he dealt with a client who had yet to do a viewing or purchase, as he was now, he had to make a call whether they were the type who wanted to see the top range of their options first or build up to the most expensive choices.
It was clear which category Mr. diPietro fit into.
There were ten rings in the tray that James put out on the blotter, all of which had been steam-cleaned for presentation. The one he plucked from the black velvet crease was not the largest, although only by a fraction of a carat. It was, however, by far the best.
"This is a seven-point-seven-carat emerald-cut, D in color, internally flawless. I have both the GIA and EGL certifications for your perusal."
James stayed silent as Mr. diPietro took the ring and bent down to inspect it. There was no reason to mention that the polish and the symmetry of the stone were exceptional or that the platinum setting had been handmade for the diamond or that it was the kind of thing that came onto the market very infrequently. The reflected light and fire spoke for themselves, the flashes radiating upward so brilliantly one had to wonder if the stone itself weren't magical.
"How much?" Mr. diPietro demanded.
James put the certificates on the desk. "Two million, three hundred thousand."
With men like Mr. diPietro, the more expensive the better, but the truth was, it was a good deal. For Reinhardt to stay in business, one had to balance volume and margin: too much margin, not enough volume. Besides, assuming Mr. diPietro stayed out of jail and/or bankruptcy, this was the kind of man James wanted to have a long relationship with.
Mr. diPietro handed the ring back and studied the certs. "Tell me about the others."
James swallowed his surprise. "Of course. Yes, of course."
He proceeded from right to left through the tray and described the attributes of each ring, all the while wondering whether he had misread his client. He also had Terrence bring in six more, all over five carats.
An hour later, Mr. diPietro sat back in the chair. The man had not stretched or wavered in his attention and there had been no quick checks of his BlackBerry or jokes to break the tension. He hadn't even glanced in passing at Janice, who was lovely.
Total and complete absorption.
James had to wonder about the woman whose finger would bear the ring. She'd be beautiful, naturally, but she'd have to be very independent and not very emotional. Generally speaking, even the most logical and successful man got a glint in his eye when he bought a ring like one of these for his woman - whether it was the thrill of surprising her with something over the top or the pride that came with being able to afford something that only.01 percent of the population could, the men usually showed some emotion.
Mr. diPietro was as cold and hard as the stones he regarded.
"Is there something else I might show you?" James said, deflating. "Some rubies or sapphires, perhaps?"
The client reached inside his suit jacket and brought out a thin black wallet. "I'll take the first one you showed me for two million even." As James blinked, Mr. diPietro put a credit card on the desktop. "If I'm giving you my money, I want you to work for it. And you will be discounting the stone, because your business needs repeat clients like myself."
James took a moment to catch up with the fact that a transaction might actually occur. "I...I appreciate your discerning eye, but the price is two million, three hundred thousand."
Mr. diPietro tapped the card. "That's debit. Two million. Right now."
James quickly did some math in his head. At that price he was still making about three hundred and fifty thousand on the piece.
"I believe I can do that," he said.
Mr. diPietro did not sound surprised. "Smart of you."
"What about sizing? Do you know what size your - "
"The seven-point-seven carats is the only size she's going to care about. We'll take care of the rest later."
"As you wish."
James typically encouraged the staff to engage with a client as he went back to set a purchase into its box and print out the valuation for insurance purposes. Tonight, though, he shook his head at them as Mr. diPietro palmed a cell phone and started dialing.
As James worked in the back office, he heard Mr. diPietro talking on the phone. There was no teasing, "Darling, I have something for you," or suggestive, "I'm coming to see you." No, Mr. diPietro was not calling his soon-to-be fiancé, but rather someone named Tom about some kind of land issue.
James swiped the card. As he waited for authorization, he steam-cleaned the ring again, periodically checking the green digital readout on the card machine. When he was told to call the bank's twenty-four-hour line directly, he was not surprised given the purchase amount, and as soon as he got on with them, the representative requested to speak to Mr. diPietro.
Transferring the call to the phone on the desk in the viewing room, James put his head through the door. "Mr. diPietro - "
"They want to talk to me?" The man extended his right hand, flashing that watch, and picked up the receiver. Before James could come and take the line off hold, Mr. diPietro did it himself and started talking.
"Yes, it is. Yes, I am. Yes. Yes. My mother's maiden name is O'Brian. Yes. Thanks." He looked up at James as he put the call on hold again and the phone back in its seat. "They have an authorization code for you."
James bowed and went back to the office. When he reappeared, he was carrying a sleek red bag with satin handles and an envelope with the receipt in it.
"I hope you will call on us again if we may be of service."
Mr. diPietro took what he now owned. "I plan on getting engaged only once, but there will be anniversaries. Plenty of them."
The staff stepped back to get out of his way and James had to hustle to open the store's door before Mr. diPietro came to it. After the man breezed through, James relocked the thing and looked out the window.
The man's car was gorgeous as it took off, its engine growling, the bright lights of the street lamps reflecting off black paint as glossy as still water.
As James turned away, he caught Janice leaning into another window, her eyes sharp. One could be quite sure she wasn't measuring the car as he had, but focusing on the driver instead.
Odd, wasn't it. That which you could not have always seemed more valuable than what you did, and maybe that was why diPietro was so removed: He could afford all of what had been shown, so to him the transaction was no different from buying a newspaper or a can of Coke to the average person.
There was nothing that the truly wealthy could not have, and how lucky they were.
"No offense, but I think I'm going to take off."
Jim put down his empty and grabbed for his leather jacket. He'd had his two Buds, and one more was going to put him into DUI territory, so it was time to pull out.
"I can't believe you're leaving alone," Adrian drawled, his eyes going over to Blue Dress.
She was still standing beneath that ceiling light. And still staring. And still breathtaking. "Yup, just me, myself, and I."