"Who?"
"One of our junior stylists."
"I don't use junior stylists."
Vanessa smiled.
"I know."
She looked directly at me.
"This is temporary."
I understood.
She wanted me humiliated.
But Eleanor surprised both of us.
She studied me for several seconds.
Then said, "Fine."
The appointment lasted two hours.
When Eleanor finally stood, she examined her reflection.
"Good work."
"Thank you."
She walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
"Clara?"
"Yes?"
"You're better than your position suggests."
I didn't know what to say.
"Thank you."
She left.
Vanessa waited until the door closed.
"You got lucky."
I returned to cleaning my station.
"Maybe."
"You embarrassed me this morning."
"I helped someone."
"You disobeyed me."
"He couldn't afford the haircut."
"That's irrelevant."
I looked at her.
"No. It isn't."
Her expression hardened.
"Be careful."
"I am."
"No, Clara. You're not."
She walked away.
That afternoon, I was preparing to leave when my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
"Is this Clara Bennett?"
"Yes."
"This is Martin Hale."
"Who?"
There was a pause.
"I work for Mr. Nathaniel Cross."
My heart stopped.
The name was familiar.
Everyone knew Nathaniel Cross.
He was a legendary investor, philanthropist, and former CEO of Cross Meridian Holdings.
His name was on hospitals.
Libraries.
Scholarship foundations.
University buildings.
He had disappeared from public life several years earlier after retiring.
"Why are you calling me?"
"Mr. Cross would like to thank you personally."
My mouth went dry.
"Mr. Cross?"
"Yes."
"The man from this morning?"
"Yes."
I sat down.
"He was Nathaniel Cross?"
"Indeed."
I remembered the black sedan.
The metal case.
The gray eyes.
The way he had stopped trembling when he sat in my chair.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"He wanted to know whether you would treat him differently if you knew."
I felt cold.
"And?"
"He was pleased."
"Why?"
"Because you didn't."
I swallowed.
"What does he want?"
"Nothing."
The answer surprised me.
"Then why call?"
"Because he would like to invite you to lunch."
I hesitated.
"Why?"
"Because he believes you deserve an opportunity."
I looked across the salon.
Vanessa was watching me.
"Where?"
"Tomorrow. Twelve-thirty."
"At the Cross Foundation?"
"No."
"Where then?"
"Here."
I frowned.
"At Lumina?"
"Yes."
The line went dead.
The next morning, something unusual happened.
At exactly noon, the black sedan returned.
Nathaniel Cross stepped out.
This time, he wasn't wearing the frayed tweed coat.
He wore a dark navy suit.
The entire salon froze.
Vanessa nearly dropped her phone.
Nathaniel entered.
He looked around.
Then smiled.
"Good morning."
No one spoke.
His eyes found me.
"Clara."
I stood.
"Mr. Cross."
He nodded.
"Please. Nathaniel."
Vanessa hurried toward him.
"Mr. Cross, welcome to Lumina."
He looked at her.
"Do I know you?"
Her smile faltered.
"I'm Vanessa Vale. Floor manager."
"Ah."
Nothing more.
He turned to me.
"May we talk?"
"Of course."
We sat in the small consultation room.
He placed a folder on the table.
"I want to make you an offer."
I opened it.
Inside was a contract.
My eyes widened.
"You want me to work for the Cross Foundation?"
"As director of a new vocational program."
I stared at him.
"I've never managed anything."
"You manage difficult clients every day."
"I'm a stylist."
"You listen to people. You notice things. You have patience."
I closed the folder.
"Why me?"
Nathaniel looked toward the window.
"Because yesterday, everyone saw an old man who couldn't pay."
He looked back at me.
"You saw a person."
I didn't answer.
He continued.
"I've spent my life surrounded by people who know my bank balance."
His voice became quieter.
"Yesterday, I met someone who didn't."
I felt a lump in my throat.
"I don't know if I'm qualified."
"You'll learn."
"And if I fail?"
"You will."
I blinked.
He smiled.
"Everyone does."
He stood.
"The difference is whether you continue."
Before leaving, he handed me a small card.
"Think about it."
I looked at the card.
Then at him.
"Why did you test me?"
He smiled faintly.
"Because money has a way of changing people's behavior."
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
"And Clara?"