Lauren looked confused.
“What?”
“Why are you sorry now?”
The question landed.
Naomi’s voice remained quiet.
“You weren’t sorry thirty seconds ago.”
“You thought I was wrong thirty seconds ago.”
“What changed?”
Lauren’s eyes moved toward the corporate photograph.
Naomi nodded.
“Exactly.”
She looked toward Maya.
“Would you please bring me the eight and a half?”
Maya blinked.
“Yes.”
Then hesitated.
“Of course.”
She hurried toward the stockroom.
Elaine said:
“Naomi, please.”
“I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“Not today.”
“You’re not being fired today.”
Elaine looked startled.
Neither had Naomi said she would be fired.
Naomi continued.
“Nobody in this store is being disciplined based on what I feel right now.”
“I want facts.”
“I want context.”
“I want to know whether this was an isolated decision, a local practice, or something we created farther up the organization.”
Elaine opened her mouth.
Naomi raised one hand.
“Do not answer that in front of staff or customers.”
Elaine stopped.
That was the moment the encounter became bigger than embarrassment.
Naomi knew how organizations protected themselves.
One bad employee.
One regrettable comment.
One quick termination.
Statement issued.
Problem contained.
She had seen companies do it repeatedly.
Sometimes the individual truly was the problem.
Sometimes firing the individual simply protected the system that taught the behavior.
Maya returned carrying a white shoe box.
She placed it gently on the fitting bench.
Her hands trembled.
Naomi sat.
Maya opened the box.
The shoes were exactly what Naomi wanted.
Burgundy Italian leather.
Three-inch sculpted heel.
Minimal gold detail.
The design had taken eleven months to develop.
Naomi knew because she had approved the final sample.
The Bellissima line was named after her mother’s favorite word for anything beautiful.
Bellissima.
Beautiful.
Naomi slipped on the right shoe.
Perfect.
Then the left.
She stood.
Walked several steps.
Maya watched nervously.
“They fit.”
“Yes.”
Naomi looked in the mirror.
For one second, the situation became absurdly ordinary again.
A woman trying on shoes.
She sat.
“I’ll take them.”
Elaine stepped forward.
“Please.”
“They’re yours.”
“No charge.”
Naomi looked up.
“No.”
“I’m paying.”
“Naomi…”
“I’m buying a product.”
“Ring it normally.”
Elaine stopped.
Maya completed the transaction.
Naomi paid with a regular personal credit card.
No corporate account.
No executive discount.
$1,850 plus tax.
She waited for the receipt.
Then took the bag.
Before leaving, she looked at Maya.
“Thank you for telling the truth.”
Maya’s eyes widened.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”
“You did say something.”
“Eventually.”
Maya looked down.
Naomi understood that fear.
A twenty-four-year-old sales associate challenging a senior adviser and boutique director did not carry the same risk as a billionaire owner making a phone call.
“Write down what happened.”
Naomi said quietly.
“Everything you remember.”
“Don’t coordinate with anyone.”
“Don’t delete anything.”