Chapter 7

Elise walked toward the Maserati. She was still some distance from it when the salesman shouted behind her.

“Don't touch anything!”

She turned. He was hurrying over, his eyes fixed on her, looking so alarmed that she wondered what she'd done. Apparently, he had only just remembered something he needed to warn her about.

Elise glanced down at her feet. There were at least ten feet between her and the car.

What, exactly, had made him think she was about to touch it?

After sending her off to look by herself, the salesman had suddenly pictured her getting curious and putting her hands all over the bodywork. If she left marks, someone would have to clean them. Worse, another customer might come to see the car before that happened.

“I wasn't going to touch it,” she said, her voice cooling.

She had met plenty of people who judged others by their clothes. Few had been quite this blatant.

He looked from her to the untouched car. Faced with both the distance between them and her cold expression, he seemed to realize he had overreacted.

“Sorry. My mistake.” His manner turned awkward. “But I don't think we have the kind of car you're looking for. There's a used-car lot just up the street. Why don't you try there?”

Since he had been in the wrong, he thought he ought to offer something useful. If she really intended to buy a car, a used-car lot would be much more suitable.

He was showing her the door.

Elise didn't lose her temper easily, but she had no intention of letting him keep treating her like this. She lowered her gaze for a moment, considering, then looked up with a serious question.

“I've heard most of a salesperson's pay comes from commission. Is that true?”

Caught off guard, he answered before he could think better of it. “Yes.”

“How much do you make when you sell a car?”

She sounded like a diligent student trying to understand a problem. For some reason, he found himself explaining.

“It depends on the price. The more expensive the car, the bigger the commission.”

Elise nodded. Then if she was buying their most expensive car, she would make very sure he wasn't the one selling it to her.

She looked back toward the service desk. Several people had gathered there, and his shout had drawn their attention. Most gave her a quick once-over before turning away. One woman, however, met her eyes and smiled.

Elise went straight over to her and explained that she needed someone to help her choose a car.

The woman looked a little surprised, but came out from behind the desk.

“Of course. I work in customer service here. What can I help you with?”

The difference in their manners was striking. Elise returned her smile.

“If you help me and I buy a car, do you get the commission?”

The woman hesitated. “Yes, I do.”

She had seen enough of the exchange to understand what had happened, and the salesman's habit of judging customers by appearances exasperated her too. Customer-service staff were eligible for commissions, but they had far fewer chances to meet new buyers than the sales team did. Most months, hardly any of them earned one.

“Are you really looking to buy?” she asked.

“Yes,” Elise said evenly. “I'd like the most expensive car you have.”

For a moment, the woman had nothing to say.

Nearby, the salesman pursed his lips and wandered off. He had upset the girl, and now she was trying to save face. Girls her age were sensitive about that sort of thing.

The woman still wasn't sure how serious Elise was, but she took her around the showroom anyway. She introduced each brand in turn and patiently explained the differences between the cars.

Elise appreciated the care she took. By the time they had made a circuit of the floor, she understood a little more about how the cars performed.

Her brother had told her to choose the most expensive one for the best quality. When they reached the Maserati again, she stopped.

“This one is nine hundred thousand dollars...”

The woman trailed off. During their few minutes together, she'd begun to sense that the girl had good reason to be so confident, although she couldn't work out what it was. She was even beginning to hope that this might turn into an order. Still, she would have preferred to show Elise something more affordable, perhaps in the thirty- to forty-thousand-dollar range. Surely that would be an easier sale.

She wanted to move on. Elise stayed where she was.

Elise studied the Maserati again. It was a striking car, and she thought she'd seen it in a magazine. The brand was well known and had a good reputation. That was enough for her; there was no point spending more time on it.

“I'll take this one. Can I pay by card now?”

The woman stared at her, taking a moment to find her voice.

“You mean this Maserati?”

“Yes.” Elise nodded without hesitation.

The certainty on her face left the woman unsure what to think.

“Will you be... paying in full, or would you like to finance it?”

Some buyers couldn't pay the whole price at once and chose financing to spread the cost. Elise thought back to Daniel handing her the black card. He had said there was no spending limit, so paying in full ought to be fine.

“In full.”

The woman's eyes widened. An extraordinary possibility was taking shape, and her voice trembled a little as she answered.

“Just a moment, please. I'll get the paperwork!”

What a windfall. She had misjudged the girl too. Elise really was buying a car, and she had picked the most expensive one in the showroom.

The salesman was still at the service desk when the woman returned, unable to hide her delight.

“What happened?” he asked. “You look happy.”

“I just sold our most expensive car!”

“The Maserati? Who bought it?”

“The girl you were helping. Who else?” She was beaming. “I should thank you. My commission this month could run into the thousands!”

His expression froze, then shifted as he tried to take it in.

That girl was actually buying a car? The most expensive Maserati they had?

He had just told her to go up the street and try the used-car lot. She was dressed like that, and she could casually buy a nine-hundred-thousand-dollar car?

By the time the woman brought Elise over and seated her beside the service desk, he still hadn't recovered.

Her clothes really were old. Those really were used books in her hands. Where had he gone wrong? Had one bad judgment just cost him the top sales spot for the month?

He made a rough calculation. From the time she came in to the time she chose a car, less than half an hour had passed. Other buyers could spend an entire day here, questioning every detail. How often did someone this decisive walk through the door?