Chapter 4: The Name on the Shipment
Mr. Harris stood beside the open display case, gripping his tablet so tightly that his knuckles had turned pale.
“Sir, there's something you should see in the office,” he repeated.
Mr. Grant glanced toward the back-office door.
“Then bring it here.””
Harris hesitated.
“Here?””
“You heard me.””
Derek shifted his weight, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive black suit. He had spent the last several minutes trying to understand why his manager was behaving as though a man in a worn brown jacket had the power to stop the entire business.
Now he wanted answers more than ever.
“Mr. Harris,” Derek said, “if there's a problem with inventory, we should handle it privately. We have customers watching.””
Mr. Harris looked at the woman near the entrance, then at the young couple beside the wedding bands.
“I'm aware of that.””
“Then let's move this conversation.””
“No.””
Derek blinked.
“No?””
“Mr. Grant asked me to bring the information here.””
Derek let out a disbelieving laugh.
“And we're just doing whatever he says?””
Mr. Grant didn't look at him.
“Mr. Harris, please.””
The manager turned and hurried through the back-office door.
The moment he disappeared, Derek leaned across the counter.
“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice.
“I don't know who you are, but you need to understand something. This store has rules. We don't allow customers to walk in and start issuing orders.””
Mr. Grant examined the ring beneath the bright lights.
“Then perhaps you should tell your manager.””
Derek's mouth tightened.
“You think you're clever.””
“No.””
“You've been doing this all afternoon.””
“Doing what?””
“Acting like you're better than everyone.””
Mr. Grant finally raised his eyes.
“I haven't asked you for anything except the chance to look at a ring.””
Derek opened his mouth, but the older man returned his attention to the display.
The salesman glanced at the customers. Nobody looked sympathetic.
The woman near the entrance stepped closer to the counter.
“Sir,” she said to Mr. Grant, “I'm sorry about how you've been treated.””
“Thank you, ma'am.””
“My husband and I have been shopping here for our anniversary. I've never seen an employee speak to anyone like that.””
Derek immediately intervened.
“Ma'am, I already apologized.””
“You apologized because your manager told you to stop.””
“That's not fair.””
“Neither was what you said to him.””
Derek stared at her.
For once, the expensive suit and polished smile weren't helping him.
Then Mr. Harris emerged from the office carrying a thin black folder.
He walked straight to Mr. Grant.
“Here are the shipment records, sir.””
Mr. Grant placed the ring box on the counter.
“Open it.””
Harris did.
Inside were several printed pages, a delivery schedule, and a sheet bearing a series of authorization numbers. The manager spread the papers across the marble surface, keeping them aligned as though their arrangement mattered.
Mr. Grant studied the first page.
“Is this the complete schedule?””
“Yes, sir.””
“Every shipment leaving tonight?””
“Yes.””
“Even the items marked for private collection?””
Harris swallowed.
“Yes, sir.””
Derek leaned forward, unable to contain himself.
“What private collection?””
Neither man answered.
He pointed at the papers.
“That's restricted inventory information. You can't just put it on a counter in front of a customer.””
Mr. Harris lifted his head.
“Step back, Derek.””
“I'm serious!””
“So am I.””
Mr. Grant turned a page.
His expression remained composed, but his finger stopped beside a line near the bottom.
“Who authorized this adjustment?””
Harris bent over the paperwork.
“I'll need to check the system.””
“Check it.””
The manager retrieved his tablet and began entering information. A few seconds later, his face tightened.
“That's unusual,” he murmured.
“What is?”” Derek asked.
Harris didn't answer.
He enlarged the entry, tapped another field, and compared it with the printed record.
“Mr. Grant, the authorization number is valid,” he said carefully.
“But the approval was entered outside the normal review process.””
“By whom?””
Harris stared at the screen.
“I can't confirm that from this page.””
“Then find out.””
Derek shook his head.
“This is unbelievable. You're letting a stranger interrogate you over paperwork that doesn't concern him.””
Mr. Grant slowly closed the folder.
“Mr. Harris, is Derek responsible for approving shipments?””
“No, sir.””
“Does he have authority to alter delivery instructions?””
“No.””
“Then why are you explaining restricted procedures to him?””
Harris looked stricken.
“I shouldn't be.””
Derek's face hardened.
“Excuse me?””
The manager turned to him.
“Return to your assigned duties.””
“I'm not going anywhere until somebody tells me what's happening.””
“You're being instructed to return to your duties.””
“And I'm asking why!””
Mr. Harris's voice dropped.
“Because I am your manager, Derek. And if you continue refusing a direct instruction, I'll have you escorted out of this store.””
The customers fell silent.
Derek stared at him, stunned by the public threat.
Then he looked at Mr. Grant.
“This is because of him, isn't it?””
Mr. Grant said nothing.
Derek jabbed a finger toward the folder.
“You walk in here, say a few mysterious things about shipments, and suddenly my manager is terrified of upsetting you. What exactly are you trying to prove?””
Mr. Grant closed the ring box.
“Nothing.””
“Then tell us what's going on!””
“I'm waiting for the truth.””
Harris's tablet chimed.
He looked down.
The message on the screen drained what little color remained in his face.
Mr. Grant noticed immediately.
“Have they confirmed the hold?””
Harris shook his head slowly.
“No, sir.””
“What did they say?””
The manager read the message again, as if hoping the words might change.
Then he turned the tablet toward Mr. Grant.
The screen displayed a short response from the operations department:
*SHIPMENT HOLD REJECTED. AUTHORIZATION VERIFIED. DISPATCH PROCEEDING AS SCHEDULED.*
Derek leaned over to read it.
A faint, almost triumphant smile appeared on his face.
“There,” he said.
“The system has verified the authorization. Maybe we can stop pretending something is wrong.””
Mr. Grant didn't look at him.
He looked at Harris.
“Who has the authority to reject my hold request?””
Harris's lips parted.
For several seconds, he couldn't seem to produce a sound.
Then he whispered, “Only someone with higher authorization than the person who issued the hold.””
Mr. Grant nodded once.
“And who authorized the shipment?””
Harris looked down at the screen.
“I don't know yet.””
“Find out.””
The manager immediately tapped the emergency contact on his tablet.
Before the call connected, another message appeared.
Harris read the sender's name.
May you like
Then, very slowly, he raised his eyes toward Mr. Grant.
“Sir,” he whispered, “the person who rejected your order is standing inside this building.””
