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 without