The man did not answer immediately.
Instead, he lowered his old canvas bag onto a nearby table.
The bag made a heavy sound when it touched the surface.
Vanessa glanced at it.
The man opened the zipper.
Inside were several thick bundles of cash.
He carefully removed them and placed them on the table.
Vanessa stared.
The bundles were neatly arranged, and each contained a considerable amount of money.
The man began counting.
One bundle.
Two bundles.
Three.
Vanessa's eyes widened.
She looked from the money to the man's face.
"Sir, are you paying in cash?"
The man smiled.
"Is that a problem?"
"No, not at all."
Her voice suddenly became much warmer.
"Would you like me to bring you a chair?"
"Thank you. I'm fine."
He continued counting.
Vanessa quickly looked around to see whether anyone else had noticed.
A colleague standing near the register glanced over.
The man finally finished counting and arranged the money into several neat stacks.
"I'd like to purchase these shoes."
Vanessa looked at the amount.
"Certainly, sir."
"And those."
He pointed toward another display.
"Of course."
"And perhaps several pairs from that collection as well."
Vanessa immediately picked up her tablet.
"Absolutely. I can arrange everything for you."
The man looked at her for a moment.
"Something changed."
Vanessa froze.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your attitude."
She forced a smile.
"I apologize if I wasn't attentive enough earlier."
He shook his head.
"It's all right. I understand."
Vanessa looked uncomfortable.
The man returned to examining the shoes.
For the next few minutes, she helped him select different models, checking sizes and prices. Her attitude had changed completely. She was now attentive, respectful, and eager to answer every question.
But the man noticed something.
He had not changed his clothes.
He had not changed his voice.
He had not changed the way he spoke.
The only thing that had changed was the amount of money she believed he possessed.
And that was exactly what he wanted to understand.
"My name is Thomas Walker," he finally said.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker. I'm Vanessa."
"Nice to meet you too."
Thomas pointed toward the expensive leather collection.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you think people who wear old clothes can afford expensive products?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"Well, you never really know."
"That's true. But when I first walked in, did you think I could afford anything here?"
She remained silent.
Thomas smiled faintly.
"Don't worry. You don't have to answer."
He reached into his bag again and removed a small notebook.
The notebook was old, with several folded pages and handwritten figures.
Vanessa glanced at it.
Thomas opened the first page.
There were lists of shoe models, quantities, prices, and several addresses.
"Do you sell wholesale?" he asked.
Vanessa immediately became interested.
"Yes, depending on the quantity."
"What's the largest order your store has ever handled?"
She explained that the boutique regularly supplied corporate clients, hotels, and private organizations.
Thomas listened carefully.
"Would you be able to supply five hundred pairs over the next two months?"
Vanessa stopped typing.
"Five hundred?"
"Yes."
She looked at him again.
"Are you purchasing them for a company?"
"Not exactly."
He turned another page.
"I'm purchasing them for people who need them."
Vanessa did not fully understand.
Thomas explained that he had spent the previous several months visiting shelters, community centers, and temporary housing facilities. Many of the people he met had no proper footwear. Some wore shoes that were too small, while others had pairs held together with tape.
He had decided to organize a project that would provide durable shoes to people who could not afford them.
"I don't want to give people cheap products that break after a few weeks," he explained. "I want something they can actually use."
Vanessa nodded slowly.
"That's very generous of you."
Thomas smiled.
"It's just something that needs to be done."
She checked the store's wholesale policy and contacted her supervisor.
Within minutes, the store director, Richard Coleman, came out of his office.
Richard was a tall man in his late forties who wore expensive suits and rarely interacted with ordinary customers. He was known for caring deeply about the boutique's monthly revenue.
Vanessa explained that Thomas wanted to place a large order.
Richard immediately approached him.
"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Richard Coleman, the store director."