Klara’s smile didn’t waver, but her pulse ticked up. “I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.”
“Magnificent kaftan,” Klara said, stopping a respectful two feet from Georgina. “Is it Pucci? Early seventies?” klara devine & georgina gee
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“What other item?”
Georgina smiled, and for the first time, Klara saw not an adversary, but a kindred spirit—a woman who loved beautiful, broken things. “The diary in the attic. The one bound in cracked Moroccan leather. You found it while you were scoping out my house, didn’t you? You read the first few pages.” Early seventies
“The ruby is flawed. You know that. But its true value isn’t monetary. It’s sentimental—it was your grandmother’s, I believe. The one who built the Trust.” Georgina’s voice softened, just a fraction. “I am not a villain in your story. I am an old woman who is very, very bored. I will give you the ruby, here and now, on one condition.”