“Well, thank you!” I say. She peers into the cases, and I use that opportunity to throw a pointed smile Sophie’s way as if to say, “See?”

“My boyfriend and I are just starting to talk about getting engaged, and while nothing is definite yet . . .” The customer trails off, kneeling down to examine a round-cut diamond with side stones, the smaller (and more affordable) version of the piece I’m wearing. She smiles and straightens up. “I’d just love to try that one on. You know, get a sense of what I like before I start dropping hints to him.”

I unlock the case and remove the ring for her to try. She squeals a little when she slides it on. Her eyes dart from her hand to mine.

“I saw yours this morning and was totally obsessed,” she explains.

She tries on two more pieces but keeps coming back to that first ring. She tries it on once more and looks at it longingly before twisting it off her finger.

“I’ll be back—next time, with my boyfriend,” she promises.

After years of watching Helen work with customers, and more than a year of handling customers here, I can spot when a potential buyer bullshits me. She isn’t. I know she’ll be back.

When I walk to the nearby vegan restaurant, By Chloe, to pick up my favorite avocado pesto pasta on my lunch break, I call Mom and Dad.

Mom picks up. “So are you going to tell us what’s going on?” she demands.

“So what happened is—” I start.

She cuts me off, calling for my dad. “Paul? Paul! Come here. She finally called us back.” Then to me, “Honey, I’m putting you on speakerphone. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

That would be fair for any parent to say under the circumstances, but she has even more of a right to be clued in. When Sophie and I first told our parents about our idea for Brooklyn Jewels, they helped us out and invested; they have a 10 percent stake. Any decision I make with the business doesn’t just affect me—it affects them, too. And since another boating shop opened up a few blocks from theirs last year, they’re worried that their own business might suffer. I spent the morning thinking about how to explain the photo to them, and I think I’ve got it. When Dad says “hi,” I take a deep breath.

“It’s a marketing stunt,” I say, as if it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. “It drums up interest in the business. If I’m the face of the company, then it’s good for people to be intrigued by my life. Basically, all our Instagram followers are single girls who are dying to get engaged—so this panders to them. It’s aspirational content.”

“I don’t know about that, honey,” Mom says, sounding concerned.