Most of them
pulled it off beautifully. But this one? Not quite. The gloves
were definitely a first, and a definite give away. She wasn't the
type, he was certain of it. Too unrefined.
Or so he thought, until she removed her scarf. He observed the
loose chestnut ringlets of hair, which appeared to be her natural
color. Pausing for a moment, she casually shook down the curls,
which were surprisingly long and appeared soft to the touch. At
the same time she pointed her face directly up into the shaft of
sunlight cutting through the rows of large buildings on either
side of the street, and with obvious pleasure basked in the
warmth for an instant. The effect was striking, as though the
rays somehow transformed her into something more attractive,
which imposed a temporary snag in his analysis. Until she spoke.
"I'll be just a few secs," she said, gesturing at the store with
her Chanel wallet. "I have to pick something up."
"Of course, madam," the attendant said, touching his hat. Indeed,
the woman's tone was all wrong, too rough, as was her accent, or
lack thereof. Yes, his initial estimation was correct. Her wealth
was definitely nouveau. The worst wealth of all.
A second attendant smiled as he opened the large glass door that
announced Gump's, in gold leaf lettering. Removing her
sunglasses, she headed straight for the elevator.
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