Gemma chose the meeting place: City Bakery on Eighteenth Street. The bi-level, open-space restaurant with a double-sided buffet in the center and a gourmet salad bar in the back was familiar territory for her. Besides, it would be nice to have someone else pick up the check for the pricey pretzel croissants.
She waited for Sloan Pierce at a table on the mezzanine, which afforded her a clear view of the entrance. Gemma had already looked up Sloan online and was able to recognize the pretty brunette the moment she walked in the door. She left her knapsack on the chair to reserve the table, and headed down the narrow stairs to meet her.
“Wow. You look just like your mother,” the woman said. Gemma blanched; few people knew about her parentage, never mind enough to comment on a family resemblance. “I’m sorry,” Sloan said, noting Gemma’s reaction. “I’m just a fan of your family’s work and legacy. I wrote my graduate thesis on how your great-grandfather essentially invented the modern-day engagement ring.”
“I’m going to get a hot chocolate,” Gemma said, suddenly losing her appetite for the croissant.
“Oh, yes—please get whatever you’d like.” The woman whipped out a gold corporate American Express card and they fell into line. It was crowded and noisy, and mercifully Sloan didn’t try to talk again until they were seated at the table, Sloan with her latte and Gemma with her hot chocolate and croissant, which she wrapped in a napkin and put in her bag for later.
“Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” Sloan said. She was dressed in a blazer and cream-colored pants. Her jewelry was all yellow gold and understated, including a Cartier bracelet and a Pavlin & Co tank watch. She didn’t wear earrings, though Gemma noted her ears were pierced. Her left ring finger was bare. “So do you write for a magazine or a newspaper?”
“What?” Gemma said, confused. Then she realized: Sloan had seen her at the party, where she posed as a member of the press. “Oh—neither. I’m a jewelry designer.”
Sloan nodded. “I thought maybe you did both. I’ve seen your Instagram and you’re quite talented. Congratulations on the NYSD award. You’re in good company; the head designer for Tiffany won that award when she was a student there.”
Gemma gave her first genuine smile of the meeting. “Thank you.”
“The reason I wanted to talk to you, as I mentioned on the phone, is my interest in the Electric Rose. I’d been hoping to see it at the centennial exhibit, but as you noted that evening, it wasn’t included. Do you have any idea if anyone else in the family wore the ring after your mother?”
It was strange, surreal actually, to hear someone talk so casually about her mother. It took all her effort to stay businesslike.
“I don’t know anything about the ring. I was hoping you did.”
Sloan nodded. “I’m working on it. Do you think there’s any chance someone in your family would have sold it?”
Gemma felt her face drain of color. The thought had never crossed her mind. “Wouldn’t you have heard about the sale of such a significant diamond? I mean, being in the business?”
Sloan sighed. “Typically, I would say yes. But there are private sales, and important pieces do go underground for any variety of reasons.”
While Gemma had no reason to think highly of the Pavlins, she still couldn’t believe they would part with the Electric Rose. It was synonymous with the company, just like the famous diamond worn by Audrey Hepburn was a hallmark of Pavlin’s biggest competitor, Tiffany.
“Why are you so interested in the diamond, anyway?” Gemma said.
“Your aunt didn’t tell you?” The way she asked told her that Sloan knew full well that Elodie hadn’t told her anything, and the fact that she would pretend otherwise put Gemma on guard.
“Tell me what?”
“We’re planning an auction to celebrate the centennial with the historic pieces that have come to represent the brand. Elodie made it clear the Electric Rose wouldn’t be included, so I’m just wondering where it might be. The question is going to come up once we publicize the auction, and I’d rather not have any surprises. So I guess you could just call this my due diligence.”
Gemma was relieved to hear that her aunt wasn’t trying to sell the Electric Rose out from under her. But the fact that this well-connected woman couldn’t find any clues about its whereabouts was discouraging. Was it possible her grandparents simply locked it away somewhere after her mother’s death? It seemed the most likely explanation. She said as much to Sloan, who looked dubious.
“It’s possible,” she said. Then she pulled her handbag onto her lap and fished out a business card, sliding it across the table, avoiding a puddle of spilled hot chocolate. “If you think of anything, feel free to be in touch. I’ll keep my eyes out, too.”
Gemma took the card, knowing that when she got her hands on her mother’s ring, the last thing she would ever do was call Sloan Pierce. The problem was she had no idea how to go about finding it on her own.