Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

your hard gems. But no plastic, you understand. They must breathe. They were created by a living animal. To remain beautiful, they must have moisture.”
    “Good news, darlin’,” Archer said to Hannah. “You can wear them to your aerobics class. That should give ’em a good drink.”
    Monsieur Paul paled. “No, no!” He cleared his throat. “The moisture in the air is best. Perspiration, even from the most, ah, delicate of women, simply will not do. Perspiration has acid in it, which will eventually change the pearls’ color.”
    “Handle like a baby and no sweat. Anything else?” Archer asked, looking impatient.
    Ignoring the men, Hannah sidled up to the next display pedestal. She wanted a closer look at the matinee-length pearls.
    “Of course, Madame knows not to put on her pearls until after she has applied her perfume or hair lacquer and cosmetics,” Paul said, inching away from Archer and watching Hannah with faint horror.
    “Don’t tell me, let me guess,” Archer said, his voice edged with impatience. “Perfume, hair spray, and makeup aren’t good for pearls.”
    “Ahhh,” Paul sighed, relieved. “You understand.”
    “How about swimming in the damn things?”
    “In the ocean, if you must. In a pool, never. Chlorine—”
    “I get it,” Archer cut in. “Chlorine eats the dainty little things. So how do you keep them clean? Or are they too delicate to take that, too?”
    “Use soap, not detergent, then rinse thoroughly and let the pearls dry in the air,” Paul said, watching Hannah narrowly. “Never use ammonia or vinegar. It will destroy the pearls. Un moment, madame. I will show you those pearls.”
    But Archer wasn’t ready to let Paul off the hook quite yet. “Sounds easier just to lock pearls in a safety-deposit box and be done with it.”
    Hannah smiled to herself as Paul muttered something under his breath. It was one of Coco’s favorite curses, obscene and blasphemous in equal parts.
    “Vaults are often very dry,” Paul said with immense patience. “That is not good for pearls. If you must lock them away in a steel box, put with them a damp cloth. Moisture, yes?”
    “Darlin’?” Archer called out.
    “Yeah?” She leaned in and reached for another necklace.
    “Stick to diamonds.”
    She gave both men a pouty, impatient look. “I want black pearls.” An alarm chimed as she lifted the long necklace off its pedestal.
    Archer sighed. “Okay, babe. If you scratch them up, I’ll get you some more.”
    She blew him a kiss.
    Outrage and greed warred for control of Paul’s expression. Greed won. He was, after all, in the business of selling pearls.
    Even to swine.

Fifteen
    “S o, tell me about this one,” Hannah said, running the pearls through her fingers.
    Paul saw only her unusual, high-quality diamond, not the skill and care of her fingers as she handled the necklace. “Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, American.”
    “Why?” she asked.
    “Pardon?”
    “Why?” she repeated. “With diamonds you have a fixed color scale and carat weight to determine price. What did you do to price this necklace, pick a number out of the air?”
    Paul cleared his throat. “It is a very complex process.”
    “Uh-huh.” Clearly she wasn’t impressed.
    “Color, shape, presence or absence of blemishes, and size all figure into the price,” Paul said stiffly.
    She nodded. “Like diamonds.”
    “Unlike diamonds, pearls are not touched by man. Their shape and polish is as natural as the shine of water. Pearls come to you as they came from the oyster.”
    And pigs fly, Hannah thought sardonically. There were a hundred ways to make inferior pearls look better than they were. But she wasn’t supposed to know about that. She was just supposed to know what she liked.
    “Unlike diamonds, which can be cut into many shapes, the shape of a pearl is determined solely by the oyster,” Paul said, falling into his sales patter. “These are living gems, very unique, very precious. Especially the spherical pearls. Most pearls are baroque. Do you understand baroque?”
    “It means they’re not round, doesn’t it?” Hannah asked indifferently.
    “Each shape has its own beauty, its own mystery, its own admirers—” Paul began.
    “Round,” she cut in.
    “Pardon?”
    “I want my pearls round. The model’s were round and black, but not really black. Lots of color.”
    “Spherical is the most valuable class of pearls. The ones you are holding now are spherical. They