"Yes, ma'am."
Eleanor smiled gently.
"First, I would like to apologize."
Claire looked confused.
"For what?"
"For allowing this company to become a place where someone like you could be punished for doing the right thing."
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
"You don't have to apologize to me."
"Perhaps I do. I helped build this place. If it has forgotten its purpose, then I have a responsibility to help it remember."
Eleanor gently touched Claire's arm.
"And now, I would like you to tell me about yourself."
Claire glanced toward Richard.
He was standing motionless behind the counter.
For the first time since she had started working at Maison Étoile, he looked completely powerless.
But Claire was not interested in watching him suffer.
She was thinking about her mother.
About the medical bills.
About the rent that was due in two weeks.
About the small apartment where Margaret was probably waiting for her daughter to return from work.
She looked at Eleanor and quietly answered.
"My name is Claire Bennett. I'm twenty-four years old. I've worked here for almost two years."
Eleanor nodded.
"Would you like to sit down? I think we have a great deal to discuss."
And as the elderly woman guided Claire toward the private office, the boutique's employees watched in stunned silence.
None of them knew that this afternoon would become the beginning of the greatest transformation in the history of Maison Étoile.
Because Eleanor Whitmore had not returned to the company simply to purchase a dress.
She had returned to discover whether the values she and her husband had fought to establish still existed.
And what she had discovered had broken her heart.
The private office overlooked the main shopping street through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. From there, the city appeared peaceful, almost distant from the uncomfortable scene that had unfolded downstairs.
Eleanor settled into a leather chair while Claire remained standing near the door.
"Please, sit down," Eleanor said.
Claire hesitated.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I don't want you feeling as though you're being interviewed."
Claire slowly sat opposite her.
Daniel entered a moment later carrying a folder and a glass of water. He placed them on the table before taking a seat beside Eleanor.
"Mrs. Whitmore, I've contacted the executive office. The chairman is available for a conference call in twenty minutes."
"Good."
Daniel opened his folder.
"Would you like to begin with the incident report?"
"Not yet," Eleanor replied. "First, I want to hear Claire's account without anyone interrupting her."
Claire looked uncomfortable.
"I don't want to cause more trouble."
Eleanor leaned forward.
"Claire, listen to me. You are not causing trouble by telling the truth. The trouble began long before you entered that fitting room."
Claire took a deep breath.
She explained how she had approached Eleanor, how the other employee had initially refused to assist her, and how Richard had confronted them.
She did not exaggerate anything.
She did not describe Richard as a monster or herself as a hero.
She simply explained what had happened.
When she finished, Eleanor remained silent.
"Has this happened before?" Eleanor finally asked.
Claire looked down.
"Not exactly like this."
"What do you mean?"
"Sometimes customers are ignored because they don't look wealthy enough. Sometimes employees are told to focus on people who are more likely to purchase expensive items."
Daniel frowned.
"Who gives those instructions?"
Claire hesitated.
"Mr. Hayes usually does."
"Usually?"
"Sometimes the senior sales supervisors repeat them."
Daniel wrote something in his notebook.
"Have you ever reported this?"
Claire gave a small, uncomfortable smile.
"To whom?"
The question struck harder than any accusation.
Daniel stopped writing.
Claire continued.
"I once complained because an elderly gentleman had been waiting almost forty minutes for assistance. My supervisor told me I was wasting time on someone who probably couldn't afford anything in the store."
Eleanor's expression became increasingly serious.
"What happened?"
"I was told that I needed to understand the difference between being friendly and being profitable."
"Did you report that?"
"I tried. But the complaint went back to the same manager."
Daniel looked toward Eleanor.
"That is not the reporting structure we established."
Claire nodded.
"I know. But employees don't always feel safe challenging people who control their schedules and evaluations."
Eleanor slowly removed her glasses.
For several seconds, she looked toward the window.
She remembered the small workshop where she and her husband had started the business.
Back then, they had owned almost nothing.
There had been three sewing machines, a handful of fabric rolls, and a narrow storefront with a leaking roof.