Old Maid's Puzzle (5 page)

"It's cool. When will the site be up and running?"

"I'm shooting for Friday morning. Right after the show airs. Some viewers are going to go straight to their computer when it ends."

This was happening so fast. I felt the butterflies of undone tasks start up again. "We'll have orders as early as Friday?"

Vangie smiled. "We might."

I stuffed the panic rising in my throat. How would we handle virtual customers and real ones at the same time? "We could use more staff. I wish there was time to put an ad in the quilt guild newsletter looking for more help."

Vangie said, "You could post a note on their listserv. Not everyone in the guild uses it, but those who do will spread the word. Remember how fast we got fabric donations when we were making those charity quilts?"

"That's a good idea. Someone out there has to be willing to work for what I can afford to pay."

"Nothing, you mean?" Vangie said with a grin.

"I'll give them a great discount," I said.

Vangie smirked and we returned to our computers. We were good together, able to work in the same small place without disturbing each other. Our rule was no talking for at least fifty minutes each hour. Then we took a stretching break and chatted.

I glanced out at Jenn. I could keep an eye on what was going on in the store from the window in front of my desk. When this had been my grandfather Dewey's hardware store, it had been the accounts payable window. One of the glass panels slid in front of the other, and a narrow wooden ledge jutted out into the store. The carpenters could rest their elbows while paying their invoices. Now, it was just handy to make sure my customers were being taken care of.

Everything looked quiet. Jenn was scheduled by herself for the morning until Kym came in later.

Half an hour later, an e-mail came from Lark. She'd sent a video clip from the show.

"Nang, look at this."

Vangie grunted, a signal that she was in the middle of something I shouldn't interrupt.

The video clip was only about thirty seconds. It opened with a pan of the store. My mother would have been proud. The store looked just like it did when she was alive.

I watched Kym closely. I had to admit she looked good on TV. I grinned. Probably because of her big head.

An idea was forming. I replayed the clip to make sure. This was too good. I needed Vangie to get started on this right away.

I scooted my chair over to her, carrying the laptop. "Vangie!" I waved my fingers in front of her monitor. Her face darkened.

I pulled her iPod connection out of the computer. "I need you for a moment. Take a look at what Lark sent."

She sighed and hit the save button on her computer. She glanced at me and then at the laptop.

"Whoop-dee-do. Kym and Lark. I can wait 'til Friday."

I set the laptop in front of her. "You've got to watch this. It's just a short clip."

I played the video. Lark and Kym stood in front of our cutting table. The wall behind was a kaleidoscope of color.

Lark said, "We're here in San Jose at Quilter Paradiso, talking to the floor manager, Kym Pellicano."

Vangie snorted. "Gave herself a promotion, I see"

I said, "Sssh. Watch this bit."

On the screen, Kym was explaining her method of applique.

"There," I yelled, pointing. I stopped the playback and touched the screen. "Check out that cord she always has attached to her apron. She's got a pair of those fancy scissors hanging from it. The ones with the palm-tree handle." "

I don't know why that's not outlawed," Vangie said, unconsciously crossing her arms across her chest. "Hanging scissors on a cord pinned to your boob? The idea gives me the shivers."

"Focus. Wait until you see what she does with them."

I pressed the play button and Kym leaned over, still talking, and clipped a thread hanging from Lark's sleeve. Lark looked startled at being touched and then miffed. She moved a step away from Kym, nearly cutting her out of the frame.

Vangie said, "She did not just do that."

"Oh yes, she did. Kym, Super Scissor Girl. She's ready to cut any errant thread."

"You never know when there's a thread-hanging emergency." Vangie laughed. "Lark looks pissed."

"Probably because she couldn't reshoot. But the point is, everyone's going to see Kym trimming Lark's clothing with those very sharp, very small ... very expensive scissors."

Light came on in Vangie's eyes. "You're thinking our customers are going to want those scissors."

I nodded. "Bingo. It always happens. Lark demonstrates something on the show and we get calls." The best way to make a profit was to have merchandise come in and go out again quickly. The specialty scissors was the perfect scenario. The TV show would create the desire. The scissors were unique; no other store would have them in stock. All I needed was to outlay the cash to buy the inventory.

"I want to order us at least a hundred pair and sell them this weekend."

Vangie whistled. "They were expensive. We had a half dozen in stock last summer. Took us six months to get rid of them. If I remember, they retailed at seventy bucks apiece."

Vangie was protesting, but her fingers were moving around, pulling up a browser and searching. "I don't remember the name of the company that makes them. It was a small scissor company back East, wasn't it?"

I said, "I don't know. But here's a challenge for you. You find them, get me a gross here by Saturday, and I will buy you lunch for a month."

"Deal"

I stuffed down the thought that I didn't have time for this. Opportunity never came at a convenient time. Retail was all about having the right inventory in stock when the fickle customer wanted it. I was betting these scissors were going to be the hottest sellers this weekend.

I only hoped I was right.

FOUR

THE MORNING WENT BY quickly. I worked on checking in the new inventory. In the last month, Vangie and I had made a list of every tool and notion used in the QP Original quilts and maxed out the credit card ordering them. Now the items were here, but needed to be counted and priced. The sixteen-page invoice didn't match the items in the box, so I was struggling.

From my desk, I could see that there weren't many customers today, a fact I could live with, knowing that many were waiting for the sale day. We'd make up the lost revenue then.

Vangie worked on her computer, her headphones firmly in place. I could hear The Doors blasting through. I waved to get her attention, and she stopped her MP3 player.

I needed to vent. "We're going to have to get going to decorate the store on Thursday, Vang," I said.

"That's my bowling night."

"Sorry, but I don't see a break in the schedule all week. We've got to hang up all the QPO samples and make sure the merchandising's done right."

She groaned. "I can't miss. It's a tournament."

"It'll be fun. We'll crank up the music, and turn on all the lights and burn through. I bet it won't take us more than a couple of hours. I'll have you in and outta here by ten."

"Nine," she said.

I went back to my computer screen and Vangie returned to hers.

Vangie went to lunch around one, promising me a burrito when she returned. Soon after, I heard Jenn calling to me. I slid the window open.

Her ears were red, so I knew she was flustered. "Dewey, I'm alone on the floor and I need some help."

Crap. While I'd had my head down, the store had filled up. I left my desk in a hurry. Four women stood patiently at the cutting table, chatting amiably, even though they were most likely strangers. Quilters weren't shy. One was loudly expressing her frustration with sewing on flannel. The listener was offering hints on special needles and batting. The other two were perusing a book. I heard one of them mention Fibonacci numbers.

There was no sign of my sisterin-law. "Where's Kym?" I asked.

Jenn smiled at a customer, but I could see that she was upset. She unfurled fabric, the bolt clunking on the table as she flipped it roughly. "I checked the schedule. Kym should have been here at twelve-thirty," she said.

A red-haired customer called to me from the checkout counter, "You want my money or what?"

"Of course I'll take your money," I said, returning her grin and joining her at the cash register. I rang up her sale.

I didn't move for the next half-hour, just ringing up sales while Jenn cut fabric and grabbed notions. We finally cleared the store of all customers.

"Why does that always happen?" I asked. "There's either a crowd or nobody."

"Don't you know? They stand on the sidewalk until they see others entering, then everyone jumps in at once," Jenn said, illustrating her point with extravagant gestures. Away from Kym, I liked Jenn. "And once they're together, it's a feeding frenzy. People buy because others are buying-it's as simple as that."

I laughed. I stretched, pulling one arm over my head, then the other, working out the kinks.

There were at least twenty bolts of fabric sitting next to the cutting table, and the fat quarters were in complete disarray.

"Can you handle putting away the fabric?" I asked.

"I would, but I'm already late. The kids'll be home."

"Did you try Kym's cell?" I said. She was probably having lunch with Kevin. I didn't want to think what they might be up to. What Buster and I weren't up to.

Then I remembered. "Oh, I forgot. No cell phone." Kym was our resident Luddite.

"I know," Jenn said. "Even my eight-year-old has a cell."

I struggled to keep from expressing my opinion about third graders with cell phones. "I could try Kevin's," I said.

The bell on the front door chimed, and Kym entered from the street.

"You two just standing around gabbing?" she said. "Good thing the store's not busy."

Jenn and I looked at one another and burst out laughing.

"You just missed a major rush, Kymster," Jenn said. I laughed harder because I knew Kym hated it when Jenn called her `Kymster.'

Kym frowned. Jenn waved goodbye and headed off for her purse.

Kym followed her into the kitchen to stow her own purse, and called back to me. "I've got to use the rest room, Dewey. Can you stay up front until I get back?"

What choice did I have? I didn't like to leave the floor unattended. Shoplifting quilters were rare, but I couldn't afford any missing inventory right now.

When I heard the bathroom door open, I yelled down the hall to Kym, "Check out the whiteboard in the classroom before you come back. I want you to pick some jobs to do."

I was putting away the last bolt of fabric when Gussie came out of the classroom, in a big hurry. Her hair was standing straight up, the way it did when she had been nervously running her fingers through it. She was carrying her tote bag full of scraps and recyclables. She didn't seem to see me, intent on something outside. I saw a yellow car waiting at the curb.

Gussie didn't see Celeste either, trailing her. She started when Celeste put a hand on her. Gussie looked out the door as though that was where she wanted to be.

I took a hand applique book off the shelf that was in the machine quilting section. I found others out of place, and stopped to straighten them. I took my time. I needed to make sure I didn't end up with a catfight in my store. With my luck, we'd have another rush, just as these two were heating up.

Celeste's eyes flicked to the car outside, and her mouth thinned. "Aren't you going to help us finish mounting the quilt?" Celeste asked. It seemed like quilting was the last thing on her mind.

"You don't want me around," Gussie said. Her voice was so sad, I was embarrassed to be a witness.

Celeste crossed her arms across her chest. Her tone of voice was harsh, as though Gussie were a recalcitrant child. "I'm trying to help you. You don't know Larry like I do."

Gussie found her voice. "You're selfish, Celeste. You've never wanted me to do well. As long as I could be the poor neighbor, the one who always needs help, you like me. But the minute I stand on my own two feet, you're threatened"

Celeste was unbowed by Gussie's accusations. "Larry is not the man to help you stand on your own, Gussie."

I felt tears well up in my eyes. These two had been friends for longer than I was alive. What was it like to have a friendship for that long and then have it fall apart over a man?

Gussie sighed heavily, her whole body shaking. She pushed past Celeste and, moving faster than I'd ever seen her, got into the passenger side of the yellow car at the curb.

Celeste stood on the street watching them leave, her mouth wide open in surprise.

I went to the door and opened it for Celeste.

"May they both rot in hell," she said. She walked past me, head held high. Her back was so tight, I could practically see her shoulder blades touching under her jacket. She ignored Kym as they passed each other in the hall.

"What's her deal?" Kym asked.

"Man trouble. Have you ever met Celeste's boyfriend?" I asked.

Kym shook her head. "I don't think Celeste has ever come in with anyone besides the Stitch 'n' Bitch group."

"I think he just picked up Gussie. Celeste was not happy," I said.