“Do you have your order number? I have two dozen items on hold.”
The customer scowled. “I drove an hour to get here and I’m in a hurry to get back.”
She glanced out the window. A high-end SUV was double parked outside her door. She could find the order based on a name, but he’d interrupted her. They weren’t good enough friends to allow that level of familiarity. “Number, please.”
After an awkward silence he picked up his cell phone, presumably to call home. “I’m here but they need the damn confirmation number.”
He tapped his toe. Tinny words reached Claire’s ears. This man and the woman on the other end both needed to relax.
“Yes, Dear, I owe the swear jar.” He moved the phone from his ear. “She said it’s a big Thomas train. She’s looking for the confirmation number.” This time he at least made eye contact.
“No problem. I have it here.” There was only one Thomas on hold. She removed a large box from under the counter. “The deluxe, special edition set.” The man kept his wife on the phone, splitting his attention.
“It isn’t gift wrapped? Didn’t you get it gift-wrapped?”
“We don’t offer that service, sir.”
“Who’s supposed to do that? Not me.” More squeaking came through the phone.
The man rubbed his forehead in frustration, and she hadn’t even told him the price.
She turned to the register. “That will be two hundred eighteen dollars and sixty-three cents. Would you like to pay by cash or card?” His eyebrows shot up. Apparently, the amount took him by surprise. He wasn’t an enthusiast, but someone in the family had good taste. He forked over the card and she read his name. If Mr. Thomas M. Wilkins were to be the one to assemble this train, no doubt the swear jar would be full. Either that or he would find a moment of flow in the simple click-snap motions as he assembled the track pieces to match the instruction sheet’s recommended layouts.
“Enjoy the train. The assembly hotline is helpful if you run into difficulty.”
He said nothing in response but huffed across the floor.
One of her regulars came in as the man left. She shouldn’t complain about the steady stream of customers, but at this rate, she wouldn’t be able to close early and make the seventy-five-minute drive to the nice lingerie store before it closed.
“Hi, Bob.”
“Hi, Claire. Is Walter here yet?”
“Not yet. Should he be here?”
“He better be here. He promised to bring Sandy’s cream cake because my wife won’t let me eat sweets. Oh. Don’t tell her. It’ll be our secret.” He cast a glance around the room to make sure no one else needed to be sworn to secrecy. “I’ll put on the coffee.”
George arrived next, wearing his good overalls. He also seemed to be settling in for the long haul. What am I forgetting? Another customer picked up a phone order and left before Walter arrived at precisely the time she had hoped to close the shop.
“Should I flip the sign to closed?”
“Why?”
“So we can tend to business—”
“And cake!” shouted Bob.
“With minimal interruptions.” He glared at Bob, but she doubted he noticed. Too many shelves stood in the way.
The first Christmas meeting. She’d forgotten about it. She had good reason. The Old Men’s Club cornered her at her grandfather’s wake and reminded her of the annual meeting the last Saturday in September. Leave it to the OMC to put the date on the calendar and not mention it again. She left the bulk of the plans at home, but the schematics wouldn’t matter at this point. At least she had the most important part with her—her brain.
She sighed. No shopping for me. “Keep it open, at least for now. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
THREE CUSTOMERS AND forty-five minutes later, she finished describing her vision. Using the photos Walter provided, she pointed out the placement for the new features.
“Can we update the grade school playground? The W climbing structure went in this past spring. Here. I have one on my phone.”
“I don’t know, Bob. I don’t remember seeing that piece in any of the catalogues and this is the first I’m learning about it.”
“It has to be there. My grandkids love climbing on it. I can build the structure and get the main color on, but if you want nuts and bolts details, you’ll have to add those. And the people.”
“How many kids are we talking about?”
“They cover it like ants on candy, but much noisier. We can see and hear it from the porch.”
“Thanks for image of a swarm of kids, Bob.” Claire drummed her fingers on the table and chewed her lips.
“What if we just did a few kids, to highlight how they play? I take my granddaughter all the time. Sierra likes to hang upside down from the top of one of the curves. Other kids like to stand at the top and other crawl on the bars like Spiderman.”
Claire closed her eyes for a moment. Then she grabbed a blank piece of paper and started sketching. “The structure is like this, right?”
“Yup.” George spoke, but Walter and Bob nodded agreement.
“What if I add two figures? I think I can do that. I’ll put a girl hanging upside down on one peak and a boy balancing atop the other—but not looking at the girl—maybe looking at the school or a friend on the swing set. I’ll put her in shorts, not a skirt, so it’s less weird and easier to add at this late date, but I’ll give her dangling braids. What color hair does Sierra have?”
“Red, like mine.” Bob straightened in his seat.
“If your hair is red, then I’m Andy Williams.”
“Please don’t sing, Walter.” Bob and Claire spoke as one.
“No jinxing. I get enough of that around the grandkids.” Walter rasped.
“It used to be red. We’ve all faded in the sun, except Claire.”
“My patience is fading.” Clair pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Quick, Walter, give her more of that cake before
