Part 12 (1/2)

I stared up at the ceiling, grazing my swollen chin and wis.h.i.+ng I could reach my heart to give it a few strokes, as well.

A prayer escaped me like a dying breath. ”I know You're shaking things, Lord, but leave me something. I'm losing them all.” ”I know You're shaking things, Lord, but leave me something. I'm losing them all.”

There were people outside despite the subzero temperature. I arrived at the shop ten minutes late because of the plucking and talking to Tracey, but they were there waiting, seven women, each with a Kick! bag and a smile.

”The candle guy sent us.” A perky blonde, who had a bob so razor-sharp I almost ducked as she turned to point across the street, stood first in line.

”That was kind of him.” I fumbled with my keys, thankful that I'd come by at 3:00 a.m. to do the new holiday displays. ”Come on in.”

Maybe I needed Adrian's help after all. I shook off the thought and flung the door wide. Maybe not.

From the collective gasps of the women, they must have liked what they saw.

I stumbled behind the counter, trying to muster a smile.

”Wow,” one woman murmured. ”He was right. This stuff is faboo. Never would have known it looking at her though....” The woman's voice dipped in tandem with my self-esteem as the other women nodded, adjusting the Kick! bags on their arms.

I looked down out my Wonderfully Made sweats.h.i.+rt, jeans and loafers, trying not to imagine how my still blotchy chin was looking about now. To say I'd seen better days was putting it mildly.

A smile forced its way across my mouth. It was a better day. For the first time in the past week, I had new customers and Adrian had sent them. He hadn't called. He hadn't e-mailed. He'd done one better and brought me business. And based on my November sales numbers, I was lucky to get it.

I joined the group at the facial bar and gave a little demo, pureeing mangoes, grapes and yogurt for an eager volunteer.

”I add a touch of rose petals to soften,” I said, whirring with my hand mixer. ”And some irises to cleanse.”

The ladies oohed and aahed at the results, but I watched painfully as, one by one, they trickled out the door without buying. Others sniffed and talked, smiled and waved, only to disappear minutes later.

When I thought I was alone again, I freshened ornaments and runners, praying as I went. Though it was great having my own business, the impending sense of doom was a bit overwhelming. Was I going to fail at this, too?

”I'd like a quart of everything on the bar-and add the rose petals, please.”

I twirled around. ”Are you sure?” So much for the confident saleswoman.

The customer, sporting a cutting-edge bob and the authentic version of the knockoff loafers I had on, nodded. ”I'm positive. I'm doing a spa party for my bridesmaids tonight. This will be perfect.”

Bridesmaids. Bless their hearts. I'd try to really make this nice. I grabbed ten containers and started dropping fruit, clay, oatmeal and yogurt into the appropriate slots and churning the blender like a madwoman. ”I've been a bridesmaid more times than I'd like to admit. I'm sure they'll appreciate it.”

She took the thinker's pose. ”I think so, too. What else do you have?”

Those words began my biggest sale. While the mixer whirred, I talked the bride-to-be-her name was Austin I soon found out-through everything in the store. She walked her credit card right behind me, buying one of everything. My prayers of grat.i.tude followed her, rejoicing at each product she added to the list. I hadn't sold any big-ticket items in months.

”Can you make me smell like Christmas? For my wedding, I mean?”

Okay, so maybe this wasn't going to be so easy. I cleared my throat. ”I can try, but Christmas probably smells a little different to everyone.”

She didn't bat an eye. ”I'm going for a cookies-in-the-oven-mistletoe-overhead-with-a-dash-of-pine sort of thing. Can you do that?”

Unfortunately. ”I think so.”

She grinned. ”Great,” she whispered, looking both ways to see if anyone had entered the store. ”I'm planning to wrap myself as a present on the honeymoon.”

Too much information. ”Interesting.” I moved to the register, reminding myself why I was enduring this. ”Would you like anything else before I total? A facial for yourself perhaps?” That last pitch smacked of a ”would you like fries with that” suggestive sell, but I couldn't think of anything else.

”Nope. That'll do me.”

I swallowed, going down the list: six lavender oatmeal soaps, three quarts plumeria lotion, two pounds of apple cobbler body b.u.t.ters, twelve honey b.u.t.ter lip balms, six cups of peppermint foot soak, twelve peachy clean bath bombs, four quarts of brown sugar scrub, a gallon of my 3-in-1 Vanilla Smella shampoo, shower gel and conditioner, a sample kit of everything in stock...and ten ten quarts of apple-iris facial. I got tired just ringing it up. ”That'll be four hundred dollars and ninety-seven cents.” quarts of apple-iris facial. I got tired just ringing it up. ”That'll be four hundred dollars and ninety-seven cents.”

She handed over her card without a thought. I held it, wondering if this was a scam-credit card fraud or something. She looked the part, but this was a big purchase. ”Can I see your identification, please?”

”Sure,” she said, unleas.h.i.+ng her wallet, armed with more plastic than a Rubbermaid factory. When I saw her KRSV-TV ID, I realized where I'd seen her friendly face.

”It's you! Austin Falls, from the news.” She was the one who saved me from Tad's weather report.

She nodded. ”Soon to be Austin Shapiro. And because of you, it'll be so much better.”

I thanked her, gave her a receipt and walked her to the door.

”This is a wonderful place. I'm going to recommend it. Do you have a price list for your wedding packages?”

Wedding packages? ”I...uh-”

”You know, like what I just bought. A head-to-toe trousseau sort of thing. All the boutiques have them, but they're nothing like this. Feet, hands, face, hair, skin or the whole bod. That's the kind of info I need.”

I just stared. After all that work I'd tried to do coming up with a million different product lines, this stranger had boiled down my business into a few sentences.

She patted my hand and handed me her card. ”Fax it to me at the station when you get the list together. You'll have to ditch the denim for some silk, but it'll be worth it. Oh, yeah, and only take appointments. Women pay more when they make appointments. Especially brides.”

Brides? Appointments? Silk? I had a price list, but I hadn't been trying to focus on the bridal products. They just sort of sprouted up by themselves. But money was money and I needed it. A lot of it. Dad's rent was two months overdue. And though I didn't use Italian leather like Roch.e.l.le or anything, the fruit and vegetables alone bore a hefty price tag, especially in the winter. The rent on my s.p.a.ce had gone up, probably due to Adrian's success. There was that Visa ball and chain, dangling around my neck accruing interest by the second.

A smile worked across my mouth at the thought of that particular debt. ”Thank you.”

”Don't mention it. I know something good when I see it.” She adjusted the almost fist-size diamond on her finger before leaning over and whispering in my ear...I'm not sure why, we were still alone in the store. ”Besides, I like finding things first. It's the huntress in me. I have a few friends working on Valentine's Day weddings. They're way behind in their planning, but I'll send them over.”

Do tell...I nodded, emerging from behind the counter to hold the door open for her. ”Well, thanks for everything. The encouragement, the word of mouth-”

She winked and pointed to the small fish sticker on my door. ”Don't mention it. Us sistahs have to stick together. G.o.d has a big family. Don't forget it.” And with that she was gone, leaving me with my mouth wide open and my mind in an uproar.

Sistahs? And she'd said it with such conviction, her slim fingers snapping and her blonde hair tilting like something out of a Sat.u.r.day Night Live Sat.u.r.day Night Live skit. I bent over with laughter. G.o.d knew just what I needed today. A good laugh. But now what? skit. I bent over with laughter. G.o.d knew just what I needed today. A good laugh. But now what?

I mean I was grateful for heaven's provision and all...but weddings? Tofu, spandex and Tracey's Barry Manilow alb.u.ms all rubbed me wrong, but weddings really grated on my nerves.

As the door clanged shut with finality, I contemplated the aversion to matrimony. Did it revolt me because of Adrian? Because Roch.e.l.le had waited her whole life for a church ceremony and never gotten one? Or maybe because Tracey had jumped into a wedding without realizing who was she marrying?