Part 52 (2/2)
But she was too tired to argue.
Obediently, she went to bed, hoping he would soon join her, and resenting the fact that she did.
*Chapter Twenty-seven*
'BISBEE'.
Marty called as Holly was finis.h.i.+ng up the last details of a laughing frog sculpture. ”Can you have lunch with me?”
”If Harry can come. I haven't found a regular sitter yet.”
”I know of one. I can vouch for her.”
”Perhaps she won't be available?” Holly said hopefully. Since the episode at the library, she didn't want Harry out of her sight.
”Why don't I check?” Marty was at her relentless best. Holly was learning that quality well.
”Who is she?”
”A widow, like you. She's had four children of her own and six grandchildren. She loves children and is the soul of responsibility.” Marty hesitated, then added, ”She could use the money.”
Holly sighed. Trying to outmaneuver Marty was a hopeless task. Now she would not only be refusing lunch with the person responsible for her livelihood but she would also be depriving a poor widow of food money.
”All right,” she finally said.
”She'll be over there at one. Is that okay?”
”Perfectly.” 'Perfectly not'. But she knew she couldn't hide here in the little cottage forever. She had avoided Doug since going riding on Sat.u.r.day, refusing several invitations for dinner. She'd pled a sore throat, then work.
The woman arrived at ten minutes to one. Holly remembered seeing her before at the library. Lanky with a weathered face that told Holly she loved the out-of-doors, Teresa Stevens was dressed in blue jeans and a plaid short-sleeved s.h.i.+rt.
She had a smile that instantly put Holly at ease, and she carried some children's books with her. Her face lit when she saw Harry and she stooped to introduce herself.
Holly liked her immediately and obviously so did Harry. There was an ease, a kind of peace, that radiated from her. So did competence. Holly liked the fact that she had brought the books.
”He's had a peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich,” Holly said. ”He can have a cookie. I should be back in an hour or so.” She glanced at the books in the woman's hands. ”He loves reading.”
”I wish more children did,” Mrs. Stevens said.
”Well, a book will make him very happy. In fact, it doesn't take much to make him happy.”
”We'll get along just fine.”
Holly knew they would and she felt better as she left.
Marty was waiting for her. ”I thought we would go to the Copper Queen for lunch,” she said. ”My treat.”
”I can't--”
”Yes, you can. I have a proposition for you.”
Holly wasn't sure she wanted a proposition. But she surrendered to a tide stronger than herself and walked the block to the famous old hotel. She had taken Harry inside. It was a legend. John Wayne was said to have made the hotel a second home on his trips to his ranch across the Mexico border.
But she hadn't eaten there. It was one of those luxuries she hadn't felt she could afford yet.
She would have enjoyed it if she weren't so worried about Marty's ”proposition.”
Her friend didn't waste any time once they were seated.
”The tourist trade will come to a standstill this fall,”
Marty said. ”I've developed a website for some of the crafts in the store to even out my business. I've put several of yours on it and they've sold. I would like an a.s.surance of a steady supply. Disappointed buyers can kill a web business.”
”How many will you need?”
”I'm not sure. But I would like to depend on at least twenty a week to start.”
”To 'start'?”
Marty shrugged. ”Don't let me scare you. Perhaps they won't continue to sell as well as I think they will. If they don't, I'll purchase what you've done and keep them in stock at my store, perhaps offer them to other craft stores in the Southwest.”
A waiter came for their order.
Holly was grateful. She needed these few moments to think. Twenty sculptures a week was an enormous number. She thought she could do it, but it would mean eliminating walks into the desert, her trips to the library, reading time with her son.
On the other hand, it could mean financial security, something she needed desperately. Her money was going out faster than it was coming in. She was extremely careful, but she was fast beginning to understand the phrase ”quiet desperation.”
After several moments' consideration, she ordered a salad and shrimp. Marty got a salad and cheeseburger.
When the waiter left the table, Marty quickly returned to the subject. ”Do you think you can do it?”
”How much?” Holly asked first. She was quickly discovering that money should always be a top priority.
”I thought I would price them at sixty dollars each, plus s.h.i.+pping. I'll pay you forty.”
Holly did the math. Twenty times forty was eight hundred dollars a week. With that, she could quickly build a cus.h.i.+on to finance going somewhere else if necessary. But twenty a week? She was doing fewer than seven a week now.
”Do you think you can do it?” Marty persisted.
”Yes,” she said. She 'would' do it. It might be the only way she could really protect herself and her son. Perhaps she could buy her own computer. And computer games for Harry.
”You don't intend to leave Bisbee any time soon?” Marty said.
”No,” she said.
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