London, they went straight to the airport. A little plane was waiting for them. They loaded the boxes marked “NY” into the plane and left the others in the truck. The ruby found a place on the top once more, although this time there was a lot more space and it probably wouldn’t stay in that place for long.
The driver said goodbye to the American and left the airport. As his plane wouldn’t take off before a few hours, the American went to get something to eat. He didn’t have to wait long, but time seemed to stop as there was nothing to do. He finally boarded, fastened his belt, and looked out of the window. The cities and fields looked tiny and peaceful from above. He gazed at them for some time and then fell asleep, the effort of lifting boxes weighing on him. When he woke up, about eight hours later, the plane was landing in a familiar place. He smiled at the thought that he would soon be home.
The art was loaded one last time into a truck. But the ruby was carried by the American worker to his own car. He still had a few miles to drive before reaching the museum. While driving he wondered why that French artist hadn’t chosen to display his ruby-flower-sculpture at a famous museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art for instance. Instead of that, the priceless jewel was to be exhibited at a private gallery in Brooklyn, which no one except those who worked there had ever heard of. It was called the Spears Art Gallery, Spears being the owner’s name.
The ruby arrived early in the evening and was locked in Mr Spears’ office for the night. A specialist of jewelry came in the next morning. She met Spears who took the ruby out of its corner. After having cut the duct tape, he delicately lifted the gem. The cartoon box was thrown away. Spears then removed first the plastic with caution. It was difficult to unwrap the ruby because it was so tightly encased in the different materials. It was only after about twenty minutes that Spears was able to hold the ruby in his hands.
“Well, miss Taylor, what do you think?” he asked the specialist who was intensely gazing at the jewel.
“A very nice stone indeed,” she said. “If I may?” Spears handed her the ruby and she turned it between her fingers, looking carefully at every crevice of the gem. “It is remarkable how the imperfections blend with the cuts made by Mr Duval. We can hardly tell the ones from the others.”
“That’s what makes the ruby such a beautiful and unique piece of art,” Spears said, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “And it’s also what makes Mr Duval such a good artist. He was able to take advantage of the numerous imperfections of that ruby.”
“Yes, and the shape’s been very nicely carved. We could almost think it’s a real flower.”
“Yes, yes. Now, what do you think of its value? How much is it worth?”
“Hm. As a jewel, I’d say that it’s not worth more than a few hundred dollars, at most one thousand.” She saw Spears look suddenly disappointed. “But,” she added, “carved as it is, it becomes unique and gains a huge value. And because of Mr Duval’s renown, the ruby goes from affordable by anyone to absolutely priceless.”
Spears’ face lightened. “How much, miss Taylor, how much?” he asked.
“Well…” She looked one last time at the ruby. “Between one and three million, I’m not sure. I’m a specialist of jewels, not art.”
“Very well. Let’s say three million then, it’ll attract more people.” Spears joyfully said. He took the ruby from Taylor’s hands and put it in a transparent plastic box whose bottom was covered with dark blue velvet. Walking toward the main hall of the gallery, he motioned Taylor to follow him.
In the gallery hall, Spears and Taylor met with a TV team, ready to shoot the show which would advertise the ruby exhibition taking place a few days later. A tall man with a gray shirt, a blue jacket, and an odd tie with cats on it walked to meet them.
“Hello!” he
The driver said goodbye to the American and left the airport. As his plane wouldn’t take off before a few hours, the American went to get something to eat. He didn’t have to wait long, but time seemed to stop as there was nothing to do. He finally boarded, fastened his belt, and looked out of the window. The cities and fields looked tiny and peaceful from above. He gazed at them for some time and then fell asleep, the effort of lifting boxes weighing on him. When he woke up, about eight hours later, the plane was landing in a familiar place. He smiled at the thought that he would soon be home.
The art was loaded one last time into a truck. But the ruby was carried by the American worker to his own car. He still had a few miles to drive before reaching the museum. While driving he wondered why that French artist hadn’t chosen to display his ruby-flower-sculpture at a famous museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art for instance. Instead of that, the priceless jewel was to be exhibited at a private gallery in Brooklyn, which no one except those who worked there had ever heard of. It was called the Spears Art Gallery, Spears being the owner’s name.
The ruby arrived early in the evening and was locked in Mr Spears’ office for the night. A specialist of jewelry came in the next morning. She met Spears who took the ruby out of its corner. After having cut the duct tape, he delicately lifted the gem. The cartoon box was thrown away. Spears then removed first the plastic with caution. It was difficult to unwrap the ruby because it was so tightly encased in the different materials. It was only after about twenty minutes that Spears was able to hold the ruby in his hands.
“Well, miss Taylor, what do you think?” he asked the specialist who was intensely gazing at the jewel.
“A very nice stone indeed,” she said. “If I may?” Spears handed her the ruby and she turned it between her fingers, looking carefully at every crevice of the gem. “It is remarkable how the imperfections blend with the cuts made by Mr Duval. We can hardly tell the ones from the others.”
“That’s what makes the ruby such a beautiful and unique piece of art,” Spears said, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “And it’s also what makes Mr Duval such a good artist. He was able to take advantage of the numerous imperfections of that ruby.”
“Yes, and the shape’s been very nicely carved. We could almost think it’s a real flower.”
“Yes, yes. Now, what do you think of its value? How much is it worth?”
“Hm. As a jewel, I’d say that it’s not worth more than a few hundred dollars, at most one thousand.” She saw Spears look suddenly disappointed. “But,” she added, “carved as it is, it becomes unique and gains a huge value. And because of Mr Duval’s renown, the ruby goes from affordable by anyone to absolutely priceless.”
Spears’ face lightened. “How much, miss Taylor, how much?” he asked.
“Well…” She looked one last time at the ruby. “Between one and three million, I’m not sure. I’m a specialist of jewels, not art.”
“Very well. Let’s say three million then, it’ll attract more people.” Spears joyfully said. He took the ruby from Taylor’s hands and put it in a transparent plastic box whose bottom was covered with dark blue velvet. Walking toward the main hall of the gallery, he motioned Taylor to follow him.
In the gallery hall, Spears and Taylor met with a TV team, ready to shoot the show which would advertise the ruby exhibition taking place a few days later. A tall man with a gray shirt, a blue jacket, and an odd tie with cats on it walked to meet them.
“Hello!” he
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