"Her condition is getting worse. They want to run more tests."
"Do you need help arranging an appointment?"
"No. I just need to find a job."
Eleanor did not immediately respond. She understood that there was a difference between offering help and taking away someone's dignity. Claire had already lost control over one important part of her life. Eleanor did not want to make her feel that she now had to surrender control over everything else.
Instead, she said, "I know a few people who may be able to help you find work. Would you allow me to introduce you?"
Claire looked at her.
"Maybe. But I want to earn whatever I receive."
"Good," Eleanor replied. "Never stop wanting that."
For the first time since entering the room, Claire laughed.
It was a small laugh, but it eased the tension between them.
Eleanor stood.
"Come. I would like you to accompany me somewhere."
"Where?"
"Back to Maison Élise."
Claire's smile disappeared.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why?"
"Victoria will be there."
"Most likely."
"She'll think I'm trying to get revenge."
Eleanor picked up her handbag.
"Then she will have to learn that asking for fair treatment is not revenge."
Claire remained seated.
"I can't go back there. I can't face her again."
Eleanor studied her for a moment, then softened her voice.
"You don't have to. I won't ask you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. But I would like you to see something for yourself."
"What?"
"That the people who humiliated you yesterday do not get to decide what happens next."
Claire looked down at her hands. She remembered the way Victoria had spoken to Eleanor, the way the other employees had avoided eye contact, and the way the security guard had watched her leave as though she were a threat.
She remembered, too, the blue dress.
For a brief moment, she imagined Eleanor wearing it, standing before a mirror and smiling at her reflection.
She did not want Victoria to take that memory away.
"All right," Claire said quietly. "I'll come."
Eleanor nodded.
"Thank you."
They left the club together. James was waiting beside the black car. He opened the rear door and greeted Eleanor with a respectful nod.
"Good morning, Mrs. Whitmore."
"Good morning, James. We're going to Maison Élise."
James glanced at Claire, then back at Eleanor.
"Of course."
As the car pulled into traffic, Claire watched the city pass through the window. Her reflection appeared faintly in the glass: tired eyes, a simple blouse, and the same face that had looked back at her from the boutique mirror the day before.
She did not know what awaited her.
But she knew one thing.
She had helped an elderly woman because it was the right thing to do.
Whatever happened next, she would not be ashamed of that.
When the car stopped outside Maison Élise, Claire felt her stomach tighten.
The boutique looked exactly as it had the day before. Its tall glass windows reflected the sunlight, and elegant mannequins stood behind the display, dressed in carefully arranged collections. A gold sign above the entrance announced the store's name in letters that seemed almost too delicate to touch.
Two customers were entering as Claire and Eleanor approached.
Claire instinctively slowed down.
Eleanor noticed.
"Are you all right?"
"I think so."
"Then let's go in."
James stepped forward and opened the door.
Inside, the boutique was unusually quiet. A young employee stood behind the reception counter, while another carefully arranged a display of handbags. The familiar scent of expensive perfume filled the air.
Victoria Langford was standing near the central display, speaking to a sales assistant.
She turned at the sound of the entrance.
Her eyes landed on Eleanor first. Then she noticed Claire.
For a second, her expression revealed surprise. It quickly hardened into annoyance.
"You again?" she said.
Claire felt her shoulders tense.
Eleanor continued walking as though she had not heard the remark.
"Good morning, Victoria."
The manager folded her arms.
"I thought we had made ourselves perfectly clear yesterday."
"We did," Eleanor replied. "You made your opinion of me very clear."
Victoria glanced toward the other employees. "I don't know why you've brought that girl back here. She's no longer employed by this store."
"That is precisely why we're here."
Victoria gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Look, I don't have time for this. If you have a complaint, you can contact customer service. The details are on your receipt."
"I don't have a receipt."
"Then I can't help you."
Eleanor looked around the boutique.
"Interesting. Yesterday, you couldn't help me because you believed I couldn't afford anything. Today, you can't help me because I don't have a receipt."
Victoria's cheeks colored.
"You're twisting my words."
"No. I'm repeating them."
The young employee behind the counter stopped arranging the display. She looked from Victoria to Eleanor, then quickly lowered her eyes.
Victoria noticed.
"Is there a problem?" she demanded.
"No, ma'am," the employee replied.
"Then get back to work."
Eleanor observed the exchange without commenting.
"May I ask you something, Victoria?"
"I have customers to attend to."
"Have you ever considered that the way you speak to people might be the reason some customers choose not to return?"
Victoria's smile vanished.
"Our customer retention is excellent."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"Then you won't mind discussing the complaints that have been submitted about this store."
Victoria stiffened.
"What complaints?"
"Complaints from customers and employees."
The manager's eyes moved briefly toward Claire.
"I assume this is about yesterday."