Nir laughed. “I need to hire you as a salesperson. And you’re exactly right about the stones. Each of them is just under 9 carats. Those two will cost you about €45,000 each. That third one will set you back €100,000.”

Nicole pulled back as if afraid of some unspoken You break it, you buy it rule. “You have got to be kidding me. Why? What makes it so special?”

“A couple of reasons.” Nir lifted the emerald with the tweezers again, then positioned it under a large bronze-rimmed magnifying glass mounted above the table. Adjusting the light, he encouraged the women to lean in. “First, it’s an untreated emerald, which means no oil or resin has been used on it. That keeps it pure with no foreign substances absorbing into it. Most every emerald is thoroughly worked over, so an untreated emerald is rare.”

“If cleaning it up makes it less valuable, why do it?” Alicia asked.

“Because most emeralds need it. They need the sparkle and the shine—the glossy, as you say—because inside they’re filled with inclusions.” Using his left hand, he tweezed up one of the other two stones. “Can you see inside there? All the little flaws? Those are the inclusions. Often we call them the garden because they look like little plants or moss.”

Both women indicated they could see them.

“Now look inside the untreated emerald.”

“Hardly any inclusions,” Alicia said. “It’s like it’s been cleaned inside.”

“Exactly, but the clean is natural. Every now and then a stone comes along with so few flaws that the gemologist will pull it out for special treatment—or special lack of treatment, as the case may be. I’ve seen less than a dozen untreated emeralds in my career, and this is the first Yael has owned.”

“Fascinating,” Nicole said. “So what will be done with the stone?”

“I was thinking of making it into a ring for this girl I know,” Nir said with a grin.

“Yeah, right. You do that, you can expect to see it on eBay the next day.”

“Nicole.” But Alicia’s scolding had come with a laugh.

“I actually have a buyer for it already. It’s arranged for transport to an Indian city that will remain nameless.”

“You and your secrets,” Nicole said as Nir stowed away the gemstones. The three exited the vault, which Nir proceeded to seal tight. When they entered his office, a heavenly scent reached their noses. Three mugs of Aunt Mila’s cocoa sat on Nir’s desk.

Nicole turned toward the open door that led to the foyer and Mila’s station. “Mila, I told you I can’t indulge in this kind of stuff.”

“I heard you,” his assistant called from the other room. “I just disagreed. All three of you could stand to have a little more meat on your bones.”