Jake approached Pacific Gems off Van Ness, and was pleased to see the “We Buy Jewelry” sign at the bottom of the window. He had made a list of jewelers in the neighborhood, and wanted to start testing the market. When he walked into the store and noticed a small jewelry repair station near the back with mini burners, tool sets, and a large illuminated magnifying glass on a flexible arm, he knew they would probably want almost anything. They could fix or modify his poorer pieces. A young, heavily made-up woman in a blue blouse appeared from the back and asked Jake if he needed help.
“I just inherited some jewelry. I was wondering about selling it.”
“Just a sec,” she said, turning and calling out “Tom!”
They waited, and Jake looked up at the alarm system: motion detectors, and the control box was housed in steel with what looked like a cell phone antenna springing from the top. Remote connection to an alarm company, probably with a separate power source. He tried to see what was in the back room, but the repair tables and shelves blocked his line of sight.
When Tom walked in, an older, bald man in his fifties, he had a jeweler’s loupe strapped tightly to his forehead. He blinked and refocused on Jake. The woman said, “Selling.”
Tom asked, “Gems or gold?”
“Both.”
“Let’s see.”
Jake pulled out the diamond ring and a few other newer pieces he had recently retrieved from the safe deposit box: a diamond pendant, gold and diamond earrings, and a blue and white sapphire bracelet. He said, “I actually will be getting more. They’re coming to me in small shipments.”
Tom began examining the pieces, starting with the ring and pendant. His long, thin hands flipped the ring deftly. He said, “These look new.”
“They are. My mother was always buying. I don’t think I’ll sell the old stuff yet.”
Tom nodded, pulled the loupe over his eye, and peered down. He clucked his tongue. “The fire’s bad. The mounting’s bad. Oh, no, this is cheap stuff. The facets look off.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “And the colors too. You can tell.”
Tom checked the earrings. “These are better. I’ll need to check the color and clarity more closely, but it’s clean in there.” He examined the bracelet and shook his head. “This is cheap stuff.” He looked up, pushing away the loupe. “You want to sell all this outright?”
“Do you consign?”
“Yeah. The cheap stuff,” he motioned to the bracelet and diamond ring, “might do better consigned. We take fifteen percent.”
“How much for the ring outright?”
“I’ll give it a closer look, but no more than a hundred, max.”
That was thirty more than the pawn shop. Jake said, “The earrings?”
“Maybe three hundred? Not sure yet. I want to check the cuts too.”
Jake said, “Can you handle a lot? Consigned or buying?”
“We have three stores in the Bay Area. We can handle it. Also, we know wholesalers and designers interested in junk for melting.”
Jake nodded slowly, pretending to consider it. But he was thinking, Bingo.