She didn’t know what to expect, what to hope for. What was the best-case scenario? That she’d located the ring, obviously. But where? If it had been sold, it was as good as gone. Even if it returned to the market, she couldn’t afford to buy it back. Maybe it was on loan somewhere? She didn’t know what she should be hoping for—what was realistic to hope for.

Sanjay slid her room card across the desk.

“Thanks for the help with the discount,” she said.

“Anytime. So your meeting’s tomorrow?”

“Yeah. But first I have to go back to my storage space. The auction person wants photos of my mom and in exchange she’s going to tell me where I can find the ring.”

“I’m off tomorrow if you need help.”

She looked up in surprise. “That would be great. I’d love the company.”

They looked at each other, eyes locking. Their connection was still there. It was nothing Connor Harrison or even Monica Del Mar could diminish. Or maybe Monica was out of the picture, too.

“How’s Monica?” she said, aware of the couple standing behind her, waiting to check in.

“Great, great. She just got a job with Alice + Olivia.” The way he smiled with pride made it clear they were still very much together.

“That’s . . . great,” Gemma said. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.”

Elodie, never a fan of Manhattan in the peak of summer, found it even more oppressive after two months on the gentle shores of Provincetown. Fifth Avenue smelled like melting asphalt and the aromatic steam coming from the street food vendors turned her stomach. Her limbs felt languid and heavy, but she had to walk briskly to avoid getting jostled by the pedestrian traffic.

She threaded her way through a crush of tourists on the corner of Fifty-Third Street. The Pavlin & Co building was hidden behind scaffolding.

“Ms. Pavlin! Great to see you,” said one of the security guards out front.

Elodie gave a queenly wave, then pushed through the revolving door into the frigid climate-controlled showroom. It was so cold compared to the blistering heat of outside that she wouldn’t have been surprised to see frost on the glass display cases. Stores often set the thermostat low to compensate for all the body heat. But there were hardly any customers. Elodie remembered the days when there was a line down the block to get in, when people would press their faces up against the glass just to catch a glimpse of the famed Pavlin jewels or, if they were lucky, Constance Pavlin herself.

She headed to the elevator bank, texting her assistant that she was on the premises; they had a meeting set for noon so Elodie could confront the negative balance sheets in person. She was dreading it.

Elodie flashed her security credentials and electronic key card to an unfamiliar guard at the elevator banks.