Part 36 (1/2)

He looked at his watch, sighed, and knew it wasn't going to be a short visit. Silently he followed Hannah down the first row of cabinets and display cases. They pa.s.sed in front of a wall with photographs of the most famous pearls in history, from Western queens to Eastern potentates, all of whom were draped with huge, priceless ropes of natural pearls. There was a photo of the Hope pearl, a monster white baroque weighing in at eighteen hundred grams. There was a nod to Elizabeth Taylor's La Peregrina, bought for her by her lover and two-time husband, Richard Burton.

La Peregrina was a huge five-hundred-year-old pearl that had been owned by royalty. It was rumored to have been eaten by one of Taylor's lap dogs; the pearl had emerged from the canine digestive tract a shadow of its former sizable, l.u.s.trous self. The picture on the Linskys' wall was taken before the incident. Afterward, there probably hadn't been much left to photograph.

”Sad, sad story,” Fred said, materializing at Hannah's elbow. ”Pity she didn't feed him one of her whacking great diamonds. It would have emerged unscathed. Calcium carbonate is susceptible even to mild acids such as sweat, much less to the horrific acids in a mammalian gut.”

”I heard it was only well chewed, not swallowed,” Becky said.

”Either way, a legendary pearl was lost. I can't imagine anyone feeding pearls to a pet.”

”I doubt that she fed La Peregrina to the dog.” Archer looked at his wrist.w.a.tch and added, ”It probably scarfed the pearl off a bedside table.”

”Barbara Hutton fed Marie Antoinette's pearls to a goose,” Becky said.

”What?” Hannah said in disbelief.

”She heard that it was the best way to add l.u.s.ter to pearls.”

”Good G.o.d.” Hannah shook her head, appalled that anything so unique and valuable could have such an ignominious end. ”So much history and beauty reduced to dog and goose droppings.”

”Look at it this way,” Archer said. ”When Rome burned, the cream of the Persian pearls for the last millennium went up in smoke.”

”Stop,” she said. ”I don't want to think about it.”

”Then think about this.” He gestured to a prayer rug whose elegant geometric designs were outlined in pearls. ”A devout, and devoutly wealthy, Muslim said his prayers on this five times a day.”

”Elegant and beautiful,” Hannah said. ”But it would be like kneeling on frozen peas.”

Archer gave a crack of laughter. His hands reached to touch her, just for a few seconds, but he turned the automatic motion into one of looking at his watch.

”It's still there,” Becky said tartly. ”Is the buckle loose? You keep checking as though you expected your watch to be gone.”

”Guilty,” he said. ”Hannah and I are on a tight schedule.”

”Young people. Always rus.h.i.+ng from one place to another. Never enough time to appreciate the place where they are.”

”There isn't enough time on earth to appreciate your pearls,” Archer said.

”Ha. Your collection ”

”Is just beginning,” Archer cut in firmly.

”I still say that if you would trade that South Seas gold paragon for our ”

”Quit tormenting the boy, Becky,” Fred interrupted. He tugged at the string tie he wore. His white s.h.i.+rt was so worn it gleamed like silk at the collar and elbows, but it was clean as a pearl. ”He doesn't want to let go of that beauty, and I don't blame him. Instead of badgering him, let's show him the new stuff. I want his advice on one of the lots.”

”I'm flattered,” Archer said.

”You should be,” Fred retorted. ”I'm old, but I'm not a fool. I know my eyes aren't what they used to be, even with magnifying lenses. The boy we hired to color-sort isn't as good as he thinks he is. He sure as h.e.l.l isn't as good as you are.”

”Oh, all right,” Becky grumbled. ”We'll go to the sorting room.”

Hannah didn't wait for a second invitation. She headed straight for the room that opened off the rows of display cases.

In some ways, walking through the wide door was like corning home. In one important way it wasn't: Len wasn't sitting in the corner, staring at her with eyes that weren't quite sane.

Nor was there the chatter and laughter of the Chinese workers who had slowly replaced the j.a.panese employees in Pearl Cove.

”What are you a.s.sembling here?” Archer asked. He gestured to a sorting table where three groups of pearls were lined up on three different trays. The trays had channels of different sizes to hold the pearls in parallel, horizontal rows from top to bottom. Each tray held a separate color of South Seas pearls: black, gold, white. A nearby table held more pearls of each color, each in a separate tray. Small s.h.i.+pping boxes were stacked in the center. Each contained more pearls.

”That's the beginnings of a necklace, part of a parure for an old client.” Fred sighed. ”Or it will be if we ever get enough of the right pearls. Makes my eyes hurt just to think about it.”

”How many do you need?”

”Fifty of each. Minimum. A hundred would be better. Spherical is preferred. The client can afford it and we have our eye on another acquisition for our museum.” Archer smiled in silent sympathy.

Hannah went to the table, looked at the pearls that were being sorted, and glanced over at the nearby table. ”Is your first sort for color?”

”Yes,” Becky said. ”Since several pieces of jewelry are involved, color is more important than size variations. l.u.s.ter is a very, very close second. So is shape.”

”May I?” Hannah asked. Becky looked at Archer.

”I'm told she's one of the best,” he said simply. ”Go ahead,” Becky said, gesturing.

Absently Hannah nodded. She was already focused entirely on the pearls. Switching on the overhead light, she began with the silver-white pearls. The gradations of color were both subtle and profound, enough for a roomful of philosophers to argue over. Yet she saw the differences as clearly as other people saw the gap between yellow, orange, and red.

Humming softly, enjoying the cool, silky weight of the pearls and the feeling of solving a fascinating puzzle, she sorted the gems. Like a Chinese merchant working an abacus, her fingers flew over the rows of pearls. Unlike an abacus, the pearls were free to jump up or down in the parallel rows.

When the sleeves of the jacket draped over her shoulders kept getting in the way, Archer removed it. She didn't even pause in her work. In fact, he doubted if she even noticed what he had done. She was wholly caught in the spell of the pearls and the challenge of matching them one by one.

When she was finished, she stepped back. Only seven of the hundred pearls had survived the sort. She had placed them side by side on the top row of the tray. The rest were lined up on the rows below in order of diminis.h.i.+ng acceptability of the color match.

”My G.o.d,” Fred said, staring.

”Incredible,” Becky agreed. She stepped forward and bent over the tray. ”You're very good, dear.”

”The pearls in the next row are an acceptable match,” Hannah said, ”particularly if you're looking for a bracelet or a brooch to go with the necklace. But I sorted first for the necklace, because that's always the most difficult.” Rather wistfully she looked at the table where other pearls waited to be sorted.

”Go ahead,” Archer said quietly. ”I don't think the Linskys will mind.”

”Mind?” Becky laughed in disbelief. ”You've accomplished more in a few minutes than any of us have in hours.”

”You had already done the initial sort on that lot,” Hannah pointed out.

”Don't bother to be modest,” Becky retorted. ”I'll bet you could have done the first sort buck naked and standing on your head.”

”I've never tried it that way.” Hannah smiled as she added, ”Standing on my head, that is.”