Chapter 1 - THE WEIGHT OF A COAT
The polished marble floor of Maison de l’Aurore reflected the crystal chandeliers above like a frozen lake.
Warm yellow light danced across the black velvet busts lined up inside glass display cases.
Each case held thousands of dollars in cut diamonds, white gold, and deep red rubies.
Outside, the autumn wind whipped against the thick glass facade of Fifth Avenue.
Inside, the air smelled of expensive orange blossom perfume and polished brass.
A woman adjusted the collar of her light-brown fur coat.
The fur was thick, expensive, and heavy enough to bend a lesser woman's spine.
Her manicured finger—tipped with blood-red lacquer—tapped against the glass counter.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
She looked down at the young girl standing beside the sapphire display.
The girl wore a simple sleeveless white dress.
No rings.
No necklace.
Her arms were bare, showing pale skin chilled slightly by the air conditioning.
In her left hand, the girl held a small, worn wooden horse with a broken ear.
Her thumb rubbed the rough, splintered wood where the left ear used to be.
The woman in the fur coat sneered, her red lips curving upward in disgust.
She stepped closer, letting the heavy mink hem brush against the girl’s bare shoulder.
"This place isn't for her," the woman said, her voice cutting through the soft violin music playing in the store.
She didn't look at the girl. She looked directly at the head associate standing behind the glass.
"She's poor and won't be able to buy anything."
The girl didn't flinch.
She slowly rotated the wooden horse in her hand.
Click.
Her fingernail caught on the tiny metal screw holding the tail together.
A little boy, no older than six, peeked out from behind the girl's white skirt.
His small hands clutched a battered canvas backpack that sagged heavy against his knees.
He dragged a pair of scuffed red sneakers along the pristine marble.
The heel made a dry, squeaking sound against the polished floor.
Squeak.
The woman in the fur coat pulled her coat closer to her chest as if the boy's shoes might contaminate the fur.
"Security should really filter who walks off the street," the woman muttered, shifting her diamond-encrusted handbag to her other forearm.
The little boy looked up at the woman's glittering coat.
"Is that a bear?" the boy asked, his voice soft and raspy.
He pointed a smudge-stained finger at the fur collar.
"Don't speak to me, child," the woman snapped, pulling back.
"My mama said bears are soft when they are alive," the boy said, ignoring her tone entirely.
He tilted his head, his wide brown eyes resting on the heavy gold chain around her neck.
"Why are you wearing a cage?"
The woman froze. Her jaw tightened, a tiny muscle near her ear twitching beneath her blonde hair.
"What did you say?"
"The gold," the boy said, taking a step forward. His canvas backpack thudded softly against the marble. "It looks like the fence around the dog park."
"When the dog bites, they put the chain on."
The woman's knuckles turned white as she gripped her handbag tighter.
The girl in the white dress reached down, her slender hand landing softly on the boy's shoulder.
She pulled him back half an inch.
Her fingers didn't squeeze. They just rested there, cool and light.
"Hush, Leo," the girl murmured softly.
"But mama," the boy whispered, looking up. "Her coat smells like dry leaves."
"Old leaves."
The woman stepped back, her heels clicking sharply against the floor like rifle shots.
Clack.
Clack.
She turned her head away, raising her chin high toward the chandelier.
"Store manager!" she demanded, her voice echoing into the high ceilings.
May you like
"Get someone over here immediately. I will not shop next to vagrants."
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