"If you don't know your budget, it may be difficult to find something here."
The woman looked embarrassed.
"I understand."
She opened her old canvas bag.
Vincent watched.
She searched through it.
She pulled out a small envelope.
Then she placed it carefully on the counter.
"I was told to bring this."
Vincent stared at the envelope.
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure."
"Then why bring it?"
"Because the person who gave it to me told me that the owner would know."
Vincent looked at her.
"Who gave it to you?"
"My father."
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"Is he a client?"
The woman shook her head.
"He used to be."
Vincent frowned.
"What's his name?"
She hesitated.
"Daniel Carter."
Vincent's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But the woman noticed.
"Do you know him?"
Vincent didn't answer.
He looked at the envelope.
Then at her.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Emily Carter."
Vincent stared at her.
Daniel Carter.
The name had not been spoken inside his store for almost fifteen years.
But Vincent remembered it.
He remembered everything.
Daniel had been a watchmaker.
Not an ordinary one.
A brilliant one.
He could repair mechanical watches that other experts considered impossible to restore.
He had worked for Bellmont Jewelry House for nearly twenty years.
He had been one of Vincent's most trusted employees.
Until the day Vincent accused him of stealing.
Daniel had denied it.
Vincent had not believed him.
Daniel had been fired.
His reputation had been destroyed.
He left the city.
Three years later, Vincent heard that Daniel had died.
That was the last Vincent ever heard of him.
Until now.
Vincent looked at Emily.
"You're Daniel's daughter?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-six."
Vincent swallowed.
"Your father worked here."
"I know."
"Did he tell you about me?"
Emily looked down.
"He told me many things."
"Good things?"
She looked back at him.
"Some."
Vincent felt uncomfortable.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A younger Vincent stood beside Daniel.
They were both smiling.
The photograph had been taken twenty years earlier.
Vincent remembered the day.
Daniel had just finished restoring an antique Swiss watch.
It was one of the most complicated mechanisms Vincent had ever seen.
Daniel had been proud.
Vincent had been proud too.
For a moment, the store disappeared.
Vincent was back in the old workshop.
Daniel was laughing.
The smell of machine oil filled the air.
Tiny gears were scattered across a wooden table.
Daniel had said,
"One day, people will understand that a watch isn't valuable because of the gold."
Vincent had laughed.
"Then why?"
"Because of the story."
Vincent had forgotten that conversation.
Until now.
Emily placed another item on the counter.
A small wooden box.
Vincent stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
"My father left it for me."
Vincent reached for it.
Emily pulled it back.
"He said I should only open it if I found you."
Vincent looked at her.
"And you haven't opened it?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because he asked me not to."
Vincent leaned forward.
"What exactly did he say?"
Emily took a breath.
"He said, 'If you ever need to know why I lost everything, take this box to Vincent Bellmont.'"
Vincent felt a cold sensation move through his chest.
"Lost everything?"
Emily nodded.