Gabriel

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There were times, and certain angles, when Caridad Pasensyosa reminded Gabriel of an aunt. His dad's sister, in particular, the one who always made the potato salad during Thanksgiving, the same salad that none of the family members touched and he had to eat for days after until it tasted funny.

They were both round, but sturdy and firm. When they smiled, their cheeks tensed up like unripe tomatoes. And they might be using the same shade of hair dye, which under the sun streaked gold.

But, he liked to remind himself, the worst thing his aunt ever did (that he was aware of) was make food that no one wanted to eat.

Caridad Pasensyosa embezzled from business partners, harassed family members of someone who dared lend her money, married off her youngest daughter to a sixty-year-old landowner up north. But what brought her to the attention of Gabriel in his line of work: she became extraordinarily wealthy during her two terms as a local official, wealth she continued to enjoy despite being denied another term.

It was a good reminder, always served like a kick to the shin. Any warmth from the aunt association always immediately left him.

Caridad liked taking him out to coffee, or dinner, or any meal in public he would agree to. He understood why, of course. In this city he was considered "somewhat good looking," handsome but always because he "looked like [an ever changing roster of people]." She wanted to be seen with him, but when people approached her in these public places she never actually introduced him to them. It would of course call into question why she was always out with a jewelry appraiser, because she knew him to be an appraiser, and he guessed she would rather the people speculate about her marital situation than her financial one.

This dinner seemed different, and he was glad to see that it might be one where actual business would take place. He was ready to take a break from Caridad Pasensyosa.

She asked to meet him at a Chinese restaurant in a five-star hotel. At a corner table set for two, amidst round tables set for ten, he found her and another woman. Between them, a duck that was missing two legs and most of one breast, and a plate of stray broccoli florets. He showed up for the dinner at the time she told him to arrive, and then realized that she had intended for him to join an hour into it.

"Raphael," Caridad said, brightening up, "This is Margaux."

He knew of her, of course, and searched Margaux's face for traces of mutual recognition. She smiled, like she would to any stranger, but she was also a bit taken aback.

"You didn't tell me you were expecting someone else, Caridad," she said.

"Raphael" took his seat, and Margaux unconsciously slid slightly away from him. He found that interesting.

"Nonsense. Raphael is my appraiser. I won't buy anything without Raphael seeing it."

Margaux eyed him. "He looks too young to be an appraiser."

"He studied gemology abroad and has worked in the industry for years. And I trust him," Caridad said.

There was a velvet box on the table, previously obscured by Caridad's hand. She popped it open and handed it gently to him. "What do you think, Raph?"

It was a beautiful ring, was what he first thought, but Caridad needed more than that.

"Are you planning to buy this?" he asked. He could feel Margaux tense up, in that her smile remained unnaturally there for longer than it should.

"I'm thinking about it," Caridad answered. "I hear it's one of a kind."

He took the piece by the band and lifted it out of its box, turning it over, peering into the inside of the band. "I'm guessing you don't have a GIA certificate for this."

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