"Don't simply send an email asking for an explanation. I want the employment record, the store's customer complaints, and the internal performance reports for the last two years."
Daniel began taking notes.
"Anything else?"
"Yes. I want to know why Maison Vale's management believes that a customer's appearance is a reliable measure of their worth."
Daniel looked up.
There was something in Eleanor's expression that made him close his tablet.
"I understand."
Eleanor glanced toward the window.
"Richard and I built this company because we wanted to create beautiful things for people. We did not build it so that someone could stand at the entrance of one of our stores and decide who deserves to feel beautiful."
Daniel nodded.
"I'll investigate."
"Good."
She rose and walked toward the door.
"Mrs. Whitmore?"
She stopped.
"Yes?"
"Would you like me to contact Claire?"
Eleanor considered it.
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want her to think she was kind to me because I could help her. She should know that what she did mattered even if I were nobody."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"I think she already knows."
Eleanor looked back at him.
"I hope so."
She left the room.
Daniel remained seated, staring at the name on his tablet.
Claire Bennett.
He had a feeling that the young woman's dismissal was about to become the smallest problem Maison Vale had ever faced.
Claire woke the following morning to the sound of rain tapping against her bedroom window.
For several seconds, she did not remember what had happened.
Then she looked at the empty space beside her bed where her Maison Vale uniform usually hung.
The memory returned all at once.
She had lost her job.
She sat up slowly and reached for her phone.
There were three messages from Daniel, her younger brother, asking whether she was all right. There was also a message from her landlord reminding her that rent was due the following week.
Claire placed the phone face down.
She did not want to think about money yet.
Instead, she made coffee and stood beside the kitchen window.
Her apartment was small, located above a bakery on a narrow street. The kitchen had a cracked tile near the sink, and the heating system made a strange clicking sound whenever it turned on. But it was home.
She had moved there two years earlier, after their mother died.
Daniel had been sixteen at the time. Claire was twenty-two, barely old enough to understand how to become responsible for another person.
Their father had left when Daniel was a child. Their mother had worked two jobs for years, refusing to let her children feel the weight of their financial difficulties.
When she became ill, Claire had promised her that Daniel would finish school.
That promise had become the center of Claire's life.
She worked extra shifts, skipped holidays, and learned to stretch every paycheck.
She rarely bought anything for herself.
Even the gray coat she wore yesterday had belonged to her mother.
Her phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Claire?"
It was Daniel.
"Hey. Why aren't you at work?"
"I told you. I lost my job."
"I know, but I thought maybe you would have gone somewhere to look for another one."
"It's only eight in the morning."
"So?"
Claire smiled weakly.
"So most stores haven't even opened yet."
Daniel was quiet.
"Are you really okay?"
She looked into her coffee.
"I'll be fine."
"Did they fire you because of that old lady?"
Claire frowned.
"How do you know about that?"
"You told me yesterday."
"I said I was going to explain later."
"Well, it's later."
Claire sighed.
She told him everything.
She described the beautiful blue gown, Eleanor's reaction when she saw herself in the mirror, Vanessa's comments, and the meeting in the manager's office.
When she finished, Daniel was silent.
Then he said, "You did the right thing."
Claire closed her eyes.
"That doesn't pay rent."
"I know."
"And it doesn't buy your books."
"I can work more hours at the café."
"Absolutely not. Your exams are coming up."
"Claire—"
"No. We agreed that you would focus on school."
Daniel exhaled.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'll find something."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
They ended the call.
Claire finished her coffee and began searching for job openings.
She sent applications to three clothing stores, a department store, and a small hotel.
By ten o'clock, she had received one automated rejection and two messages confirming that her applications had been received.
She was about to close her laptop when another notification appeared.
It was an email from an unknown address.
The subject line read:
A Message Regarding Your Employment at Maison Vale
Claire opened it.
Dear Miss Bennett,
We are contacting you regarding an internal review of the circumstances surrounding your departure from Maison Vale.
We would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you and obtain your account of the events that occurred on Thursday afternoon.
Please reply with your availability.
Claire read the message twice.
An internal review?
She leaned back.
Perhaps Vanessa had reconsidered.
Perhaps someone had realized that firing an employee over such a minor incident was excessive.
Or perhaps the company wanted her to sign another document.