Free Golden Age by Jane Smiley Page A

farther left, caught Jackie’s glance, and stepped into the window, afraid he was going to make real noise.
    He could still hear them, though.
    “That is nice leather.”
    “The best.”
    “The English is a little conservative. I hate to look stuffy.”
    “I totally understand.”
    “On the other hand, as I get older—”
    “I wouldn’t worry about that, sir. I really wouldn’t.”
    Pause.
    “I am drawn to the Valextra. I’ve looked at those before.”
    The Valextra was maybe 30 percent more expensive than the Asprey. Lisa said, “It’s a rare piece. It’s not for everyone. We sell maybe one a season, but I always think…”
    She had been working here for two weeks. Charlie went deeper into the corner beside the window.
    Outside, a woman passed him, her nose in a guidebook. Shestopped, looked toward the street sign, then opened the door of the shop. Charlie saw Jackie intercept her—they went back out the door. The show went on.
    Lisa said, in a regretful, almost lachrymose voice, “I have to tell you, sir, the Valextra is a fifteen-hundred-dollar item.”
    There was a long pause, and Charlie peeked out from behind the stack of Tumis. Michael had one hand on the Asprey and one hand on the Valextra, and he was stroking them gently with a half-smile on his face. Then he hoisted the Valextra and gave a deep sigh, matched an instant later by Lisa. The curtain to the stockroom fluttered—ah, Mark was watching, too. Michael said, “How much is the Asprey?”
    A pregnant pause; then Lisa’s voice half broke when she said, “Eleven hundred.”
    Michael looked straight at her and said, “I’ll give you eleven hundred for the Valextra,” but he said it cheerfully, with a grin, as if he were joking. Lisa responded, “We don’t usually…Well, thirteen is as low as I can go. The manager is in Italy, looking at new collections. I don’t think…”
    Another pause. Outside, the confused lady had walked on, and Jackie was talking to someone else, who was bundled in a full-length black down coat.
    Michael shrugged, took his briefcase off the counter, gave Lisa one last winning smile, and turned for the door. Lisa let him get there, let him put his black gloves on, let him touch the handle, then said, “Twelve is okay. I can do twelve for you.” She put on a regretfully redeemed expression, and Michael strode back to the counter. A win-win situation. Everyone was happy, including Charlie, who knew that they sold the Valextra, full-price, for eleven hundred. Mark came out of the back, looking genial but uninterested, and Michael and Lisa completed the transaction. When Lisa put on her coat and they went out together (Lisa told Mark she was taking an early lunch), Michael still didn’t recognize Charlie, but he did smile at him this time.
    It was Charlie’s job to make the jokes and tell the funny stories, and it was Riley’s job to laugh, but she didn’t laugh when he told her about Lisa and Michael—she was offended. Charlie had learned to make no assumptions about how Riley might be offended. It could be anything: Ripping off Michael? Lisa going off with him? But of course it was the waste that offended her, getting rid of a perfectlygood leather item because of a small stain. And calfskin, at that; did Charlie know how much grain went into feeding cattle? This brought her around to hemp again, as so many things did. Or bamboo! Bamboo was verrry interesting, and Charlie heard all about it over the roasted vegetables and grilled goat-cheese sandwiches they had for dinner. The cheese was from the shores of Cayuga Lake, and that was where Riley wanted to go on their first trip out of the city.
    —
    HERE WAS HOW Michael told the story: Everyone in their group thought going on the Jolly Roger would be fun—just a two-hour cruise around Dickenson Bay, then back to Magnus King’s condo on Runaway Bay (Magnus King had started out life as Bruce King, but changed his name when he made his second million; he was up