The woman’s eyes flicked down—coat, shoes, hands—and then back up again.
“We operate by appointment,” she said smoothly. “And typically for purchases.”
“I’m not buying,” Lily admitted. “I just… I need to know if it’s worth anything.”
There it was. The quiet truth.
The smile faded.
“I’m afraid this isn’t a pawn shop.”
The words landed gently, but they cut deep.
“I understand,” Lily said quickly. “It’s just—this ring belonged to my grandmother. She said it was important. I thought maybe—”
“Important to you, perhaps,” the woman interrupted, “but we deal with certified pieces, not sentimental ones.”
A few nearby customers glanced over. Not openly—never openly—but enough.
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