She continues her bemused babbling in a quiet voice as I approach the desk to sign the papers and to confirm the painting is to be sent to my usual address. When the clerk accepts the documentation, I point to the rectangular velvet box. Once he brings it over, I take out the bracelet.
“And what if someone steals it?” Milene continues. “Is that kind of stuff insured? One million. It’s absolutely outrageous, if you ask me.”
I turn and find Milene looking back at the auction room, staring at the big screen where the image of the bracelet is still being displayed.
“Where would someone wear something like that? What if . . .” She rattles on, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips.
I put the bracelet around her right wrist and fasten the clasp. It’s one of those simple hook clas
