She sneered at my worn coat then learned I owned the entire building she

I did not argue. I simply asked, politely, if I could see the caramel tote in size medium. Vivienne let out a sharp laugh that made two other customers turn. Sweetheart, that bag costs more than your entire month of rent, she said, tapping her manicured nails on the glass. Why don’t you go browse somewhere more your speed. There’s a thrift store two avenues over. A younger clerk named Priya stepped forward, cheeks red, and quietly offered to help me, but Vivienne cut her off. Priya, I am handling this. Go steam the silk scarves. Then she turned back to me and added, loud enough for the whole floor, we have a dress code for a reason. Please leave before I call building management. I smiled, pulled out my phone, and made one call. Marcus, I said, can you come down to the boutique for a moment. Bring the lease binder. Vivienne rolled her eyes and muttered something about crazy homeless men making calls on burner phones. Ninety seconds later Marcus walked in wearing a charcoal suit, followed by the district manager Ms. Halvorsen, who had flown in that morning to meet the building’s new owner. Ms. Halvorsen froze when she saw me, then rushed over. Mr. Cole, I am so sorry we kept you waiting, is everything alright. The color drained from Vivienne’s face in real time. I told Ms. Halvorsen that Vivienne had been extremely informative about the store’s dress code and their policy on shabby gentlemen. Then I asked Marcus to hand Vivienne a copy of the lease she had apparently forgotten belonged to me. I would like the caramel tote in medium, gift wrapped, I said gently. And Priya is the one who will ring me up. Vivienne opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Ms. Halvorsen quietly asked her to step into the back office. I paid, tipped Priya five hundred dollars for her kindness, and walked out with Mila’s birthday gift. By the time I reached the sidewalk, Vivienne was no longer employed in my building.