POV: Emerald

As expected, Gema was not at annoyed by Emerald’s tardiness, but that did nothing to relieve Emerald’s annoyance with the klutz who ruined her blouse. Gema’s empathy surged once she sized up the mayhem that was visited upon what was once Emerald’s lovely blouse.

“Ay, Missy Esmeralda! What happened to you and your blouse?” Gema asked as soon as she noticed the mess. Trying to rub the stain out, had, predictability, smeared the stain around and stamped it in.

In three years, Gema had yet to get the hang of calling Emerald by her correct name. Emerald had long ago decided that it was a matter of no importance, despite being a departmenthead.

Emerald huffed a bit, “Oh, nothing, really. I got bumped at Starbucks.”

“Oh no! We can’t let you lose such a beautiful blouse. You, come downstairs with me. I find you something. I can get tinto out for you,” Gema assured, still using her native Colombian word for coffee.

Emerald smiled warmly at the dear woman, “Oh, thank you, Gema! I really don’t want to look like this all day.

Oh, you are such a dear. First, let’s take a look at your swatches. You sounded excited.”

“Si, Missy Esmerelda. I have never seen such fabrics!”

Emerald studied the swatches and the couple of bolts Gema had brought. She was right, the fabrics were truly stunning.

“Oh, my goodness, Gema—shantungs, too?”

Always in demand for wedding dresses and formal gowns, shantung, with its characteristic ridges, was perfect for any piece requiring draping; it flows magnificently.

Emerald rubbed one of the swatches between her fingers, generating heat. This was silk, all right.. She took a magnifying glass from a desk drawer and studied the fabrics at various angles. Under the natural light of her office window, the material changed colors and Emerald could only see a few of the tiniest imperfections.

“Gema, you have very hig-quality silk here. There are some unusual colors that I have never seen before. How much fabric did they send you?”

Gema clapped excitedly, “Hundreds of meters! They also give me charmeuse, and velvet, and satin; even brocade.” Emerald smiled gently getting the point the point despite Gema’s mangling of the word “brocade.”

Gema’s glee notwithstanding, this was not sitting right for Emerald. Purchasing so much exquisite fabric from their regular suppliers in Suzhou was not realistic. Few sellers could get their hands on this much highest-grade silk. And if they could have, it would have been pushed to all of the haute couture maisons, not just Dior. Everyone on the production side would been downright giddy. The marketing would be extensive.

“Did anyone tell you where the fabrics came from?” Emerald queried while unraveling a corner thread of one of the swatches and pulled on a thread. When she tried to break it like a piece of floss, she failed. This stuff was superior to even Mulberry silk, which was purchased only in small doses.

“No, Missy,” Gema replied while shaking her head. “Everyone just say from China. Do you think the ladies will like it?”

Emerald smiled brightly, keeping her misgivings to herself, “You will make them obsessed, Gema. “I had better take you back downstairs before people get crazier than usual when the can’t find you.”

“Ok, Missy Esmeralda.”

“May I keep any of the swatches?”

“Oh, si! I brought for you, especial.”

Emerald thanked Gema and put the swatch collection in and put the swatch collection into a desk drawer. The two women, one middle-aged and round, the other young and petite with lustrous chestnut hair made their way to the elevators.

Jennifer’s POV

Junior Accountant, Jennifer Welles, became concerned enough to bring the matter to her supervisor, Julia Hunt. At forty-five, Julia was pretty sure that she had seen just about every crazy thing that could happen in haute couture. She had five years working for Chanel in Paris under her belt. A believer in the power of intuition, Julia told her staff that if it feels off, it probably is off. She never wanted anyone to fear coming to her with numbers that could be concerning.

Mistakes would be expensive. Nothing about the Charme operation represented “affordability” for all but a tiny collection of very wealthy women. I wonder if they all know each other, Julia once pondered.

*We’re talking about maybe four or five thousand women in the entire country who can buy couture. *

If the celebrities were factored out, the Old Money customers surely knew of each other. Old Money was easy to recognize; they were the least flashy and most polite patrons in the place.

“This definitely requires further investigation, Jennifer. First, and most importantly, we verify that their numbers are correct.

*Lots of problems are just math errors. That’s what we hope for anyway. *

“Next, we will need more procurement documentation. I’m glad you brought this to my attention, Jennifer, good catch.”

*It is entirely possible that someone in the chain made a simple arithmetic error.*

Julia was a fan of Occam’s Razor: the simplest explanation is probably the correct one. Yet Julia, too, could not escape the feeling that something was not right.