24
Gemma couldn’t believe what she was hearing: Elodie couldn’t sell pieces from the family’s private collection without her signature? She’d been cut off from the Pavlins—and the company—since she was a child. It didn’t make any sense. But it did give her leverage.
“Well, I’m not signing anything . . . unless you hand over my mother’s ring.”
Elodie pursed her lips. After a pause, she said, “That’s a big ask. But I am willing to negotiate—with both of you. That’s why I wanted the three of us to talk in person.”
The waiter appeared with coffees, detected the tension at the table, and discreetly slipped away after setting down the mugs.
“I understand that I’m asking both of you to sign paperwork allowing me to sell off valuable jewelry, and you’re wondering, what’s in it for you? Well, I’m happy to share some of the proceeds from the auction.”
“I’m not interested in Pavlin blood money,” Celeste said. Gemma looked at her in surprise while Elodie just sighed.
“Please don’t be so dramatic,” Elodie said. “If you don’t want any money, that’s fine. But then don’t stand in the way. You can’t have it both ways.”
To be honest, Gemma wouldn’t mind some money. She had no idea what an auction would bring in, but she was pretty sure even a fraction of the proceeds would allow her to grow her own company. This could be her answer to the investor issue. She could incorporate, develop a better website, buy more material for making inventory—possibly outsource production to scale up. Who knows—she could even lease a storefront. When money wasn’t an issue, anything was possible.
But it was a catch-22. Her ultimate goal was bigger than just money. She wanted to change the jewelry industry; she believed in changing the industry. She wanted to put the old guard—specifically, Pavlin & Co—out to pasture. She wanted to push them to the side—as they had pushed her aside. The auction wouldn’t just raise a lot of money, it would no doubt generate a lot of publicity. And she had no interest in helping Pavlin & Co with publicity.
But then, the money guy Jacob Jabarin had invited her to return at the end of the summer. She had to do something to raise her profile. Yes, she wanted the famous diamond for personal reasons. But she needed it for professional ones. If she could relaunch it in the context of contemporary jewelry, with her own “jewelry should be personal” ethos, it would amplify her brand in a way investors would take seriously.
“Again, the only thing I want is my mother’s ring.”
Elodie’s face turned red. “It was never her ring. It belongs to Pavlin & Co.”
“Alan Pavlin gave it to my mother as an engagement gift,” Gemma said.
“That was a loan—for publicity,” said Elodie. “Tell her, Celeste.”
Celeste put up her hands. “I don’t want any part of this.”
The server appeared with plates of fluffy pancakes and perfectly crisped bacon. Gemma’s stomach rumbled, but she made no move to eat. Again, she was brought back to the last time she saw her mother’s ring, resting on a tray on her grandmother’s nightstand. It will be yours someday. It’s what your mother wanted.
“It’s the ring or no signature,” Gemma said.
“So you’d rather walk away with nothing?” Elodie said. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve done fine with nothing the past fifteen years,” Gemma said.
Elodie stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. It bumped back against the restaurant’s front window frame.
“Celeste, you know where to find me when the moon is out of Venus or whatever you’re waiting for. And, Gemma, I expect to hear from you, too, when you realize this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you’re squandering.”
She pulled her orange Hermès handbag into the crook of her arm and stormed out. Gemma exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She glanced at Celeste, who picked up her knife and fork and cut a bite off her pancakes.
“Please,” she said, “eat.”
Gemma bit into her bacon and sipped her coffee. It was strong. They ate in silence, her mind racing. Was she being foolish? Should she take the money and run? She wished she had a mother to talk to. Anyone to talk to.
“Gemma, this might not be what you want to hear, but I wish you’d forget about the Electric Rose.”
She looked at her aunt, feeling stricken. Was she taking Elodie’s side on this?
“Why?”
“It’s bad luck. It’s cursed. I don’t know where it is, and I don’t want to know. Please, for your own sake, forget about it.”
“Aunt Celeste, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
Celeste nodded vigorously. “I do. The first time I saw an article that suggested the curse, I knew in my bones it was true. And if you’d seen how drastically things fell apart once that diamond came into the family, you’d believe it, too.”
Gemma didn’t know about that. She’d stumbled upon a few mentions of the curse online but didn’t give it any more credence than she did stories of haunted houses.
“And I overheard some of your argument in the store,” Celeste said slowly. “The part about our family pretending that you don’t exist. I feel terrible. I’m sorry. I should have reached out.”
Yes, she should have. And maybe she should feel more bitterness toward her aunt. But the thing was, Celeste welcomed her the minute she appeared in town. She welcomed her the way, deep down, she’d wished Elodie had the night of the Pavlin & Co party. “I guess you had your own reasons for keeping your distance, not just from me but from the whole family. I’m not taking it personally.”
“Please don’t,” Celeste said. “And I know it’s probably too little too late, but would you consider staying here a bit longer? We have the extra room. And I know you mentioned not having an apartment in the city right now.”
Gemma felt like she could cry at the kindness. It was sweet and well-intentioned. But she had to get back to her own life. She had to get back to work.
“I appreciate that, Aunt Celeste. But I can’t stay.”
Celeste nodded in understanding. “Okay,” she said. “Well, at the very least, would you be interested in coming with me to an estate sale this afternoon? It might be fun. And I don’t want your last memory of your visit here to be this unfortunate breakfast.”
An estate sale could be fun. She might find an interesting piece or two. Then at least the whole trip wouldn’t have been a waste of time.
One more day wouldn’t hurt.
Elodie fumed the entire walk back to the Barros house.
Unbelievable. She’d made that grifter a generous offer, and she’d refused. Now what? And as if that weren’t bad enough, the house now smelled dank and briny, as if somehow during her walk the bay had seeped into every floorboard.
Lidia sat at the kitchen table chopping up what appeared to be dried plants. It was immediately clear this was the source of the very strong odor.
“What is that smell?” Elodie said, bending to undo Pearl’s leash.
“Oh, hi, Elodie. Dried seaweed. I’m immune to the scent at this point. But don’t run off—I wanted to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, she took a seat. She didn’t particularly want to talk, and she certainly didn’t want to be exposed to the seaweed for a minute longer than she had to be. Pearl sneezed.
“Dare I ask why you’re chopping up seaweed? Is this a local custom I should know about?”
“Marco and Olivia farm it, then we mix it with fresh tea leaves for a special blend sold at Tea by the Sea. If you haven’t visited there yet, I highly recommend it. It’s right across the street from East End Books.”
“I prefer my tea without seaweed, thank you,” Elodie said.
Lidia laughed. “Most of their tea doesn’t have seaweed in it. We came up with this blend last summer. It was my son’s idea; seaweed is full of antioxidants, and farming it is great for the aquatic environment.”
Elodie nodded, impatient for Lidia to get to the point. If Lidia wasn’t going to get right to it, then she might as well. “For the record, I had no idea you knew my sister. I wasn’t trying to be deceptive with my last name. It’s standard practice to protect my privacy.”
Lidia moved the seaweed aside, put down the knife, and clasped her hands together.
“I understand. And you don’t owe me an explanation. I’m a professional, and we have a business arrangement for the room. But on a personal level, I need things to be harmonious around here. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, and I don’t want Celeste to be uncomfortable. So . . . maybe you can make amends?”
“Me? Why should I make amends? I don’t know what my sister told you but—”
“Celeste never told me a thing. I have no idea what the problem is between you two, but around here, family is family. If you only knew all the issues we’ve had with Manny’s sister Bianca. Look up ‘troublemaker’ in the dictionary, it’s got her name there. But when she’s here, we keep the peace. For our own sanity. Maybe take a similar approach with Celeste? And I’ll tell her the same thing.” She smiled and went back to chopping the seaweed.
“Well, Lidia, I can certainly try,” she said. “By the way, is the ocean beach walkable from here? I could use some fresh air.”
“Technically, yes. But it’s far on foot. You’re better off biking,” Lidia said.
Elodie hadn’t been on a bike since she was twelve. She’d call a cab.