Free Truth by Aleatha Romig Page A

Nichols. May I
see your identification?” Claire retrieved her new driver’s license
and handed it to the woman.
    The receptionist took the small card, made a
copy of both sides, and returned it to Claire. “Mr. Pulvara will be
with you in just a moment. Please have a seat.”
    The soft leather chairs were neatly arranged
in an L shape in the corner of the room. The incandescent lighting
created a soft appearance. To pass the time, Claire removed her
iPhone and pulled up the article from earlier that morning. She
scanned the article:
     
    The pardon was legally granted on behalf of
Ms. Nichols…Unable to overturn once accepted… Question remains; why
was her name concealed by the governor? … Governor Preston intends
to avoid the perception of impropriety… cannot be overturned…
complete history of arrest through incarceration expunged… could
not reach Ms. Nichols for comment
     
    “ Ms. Nichols,” the voice
returned Claire to the present. She hadn’t considered the pardon
being overturned .
She sighed, relieved that wasn’t a possibility. “Ms.
Nichols?”
    “ Yes.” Claire said, as she
followed the woman through a solid door. Once behind the partition,
she was amazed at the room before her. There were lights,
magnifying glasses, scales, and other instruments designed to
inspect small delicate items. A gentleman on the other side of the
counter stood her height with skin the color of lightly creamed
coffee. Special glasses with extended magnifiers hung from his
neck. His voice contained a Middle Eastern accent and exemplified
aptitude. His smile as he extended his hand in greeting, reassured
her. Claire accepted his hand and introduced herself.
    Mr. Pulvara wasn’t one for small talk. Time
was money and Claire currently had his time. She pulled a small
blue velvet bag from her purse and removed the watch, diamond stud
earrings, and journey necklace. Placing his glasses upon his nose,
Mr. Pulvara remained expressionless as he inspected her jewelry.
His skilled hands rolled each piece between his fingers as he
studied the gems and gold. After a few minutes with each piece, he
set it upon a black cloth.
    “ Ms. Nichols, these are
fine pieces. Do you have anything else in that bag of
yours?”
    “ I do.” Claire emptied the
bag into the palm of her hand. She extended her open hand with her
engagement and wedding ring glistening under the lights.
    He glanced from her palm to her eyes. First,
he picked up the platinum wedding band embedded with diamonds.
After a few minutes he set it down and took the platinum engagement
ring. Without speaking he turned the diamond ring every which way.
He then used a few gauges to measure the face of the gem. Finally,
he broke the silence, “Ms. Nichols, do you know from what merchant
these rings were purchased?”
    “ I was told Tiffany’s in
New York. I wasn’t there. So, I’m not sure.”
    “ I am assuming you have a
receipt or insurance policy something indicating you are the owner
of these pieces.”
    “ I do not. They were
gifts.”
    “ Perhaps you could contact
the giver of these gifts? You understand I must be sure these items
truly belong to you.”
    “ Mr. Pulvara, these items
were given to me by my ex-husband. I have no plans to contact him.
If you are not interested in purchasing them, I will gladly look
elsewhere. Thank you for your time.” Claire began to reach for her
jewelry.
    The broker gently touched
the top of Claire’s hand, stopping her movement. She looked up to
his face. He said, “I am very interested. It is just -- I believe this wedding
set is of the highest quality and quite valuable. The cut alone is
extremely rare. I must be sure…”
    She cut him off, “I have no proof of my
ownership. I will take them …”
    “ Ms. Nichols, may I ask
Mr. Nichols’s first name?”
    Claire hesitated. “Mr. Pulvara, am I certain
of your confidentiality?”
    “ Of course, I would not
have the customers and reputation I currently enjoy