Angie brought Cilla’s attention to it. “You know who painted this, right? It’s worth four times what you’re asking for it.”
Cilla’s eyebrows lifted. “Wow. Would you mind putting it behind the counter? I’ll do a bit of research and re-price it. Thanks for pointing that out.”
Cilla went back to what she’d been doing. She selected a tie from a small rack. “Sad that nobody wears ties anymore.” She changed her mind, took a different tie, and laid it on the counter. “Gwen and I met at a school dance last year. The men were late, stuck at a faculty meeting. Gwen and I,” Cilla laughed, “didn’t have a thing in common. In spite of that we became best friends.”
At the last words, Cilla stopped her meandering around the racks and leaned against a counter. Before Angie could get to her and say some comforting words, Cilla was on the move again, as if she might escape the sadness dogging her.
“Your husband is a teacher?”
“Kiana forgot this one.” Gwen removed the hanger from a long skirted brown and orange print dress, laid the hanger on the counter, and gave a sad smile. “Yes, Josh is just finishing up his student teaching at Carlson—he majored in English. He’s been hoping they’ll offer him a permanent job. There are two openings coming available.”
“Isn’t October a funny time to be filling teaching positions?”
“Yes. Ordinarily it’s done during the summer. One teacher is leaving because she’s pregnant. The other, I’m not sure why he’s going.”
“He’s probably not pregnant.”
Cilla forced a grin at Angie’s joke. It was an awkward grin, posed, Angie thought, to hide bad teeth. Cilla deposited the hanger back on a rack, then folded the dress and fitted it into a shopping bag along with the slacks. “I wonder if she needs a slip to go under this.” Cilla made her way to a table holding a jumble of lingerie.
“I understand Gwen was seeing Ted Chalmers.”
“Ted. Yes.”
Funny way to say it. “Is something wrong with him?”
“No. No, I suppose he’s all right. He’s just a bit…I guess I’d use the word weird. The four of us spent some time together though mostly I think the men went along to please us girls. While Gwen and I found commonality in our differences, the men couldn’t seem to. They were stiff and formal with each other.” Cilla selected a slip and held it up to estimate the size. It was pretty with a three-inch trim of lace around the bottom.
“My opinion is that men are black and white creatures,” Angie said. “Things have to be right there for them to see that connection you mentioned.”
“I think you’re right.” Cilla folded the slip and added it to the bag. She walked to a tall rack on the farthest counter and spun it around slowly. After two rotations she chose a few pieces of costume jewelry and put them into a small zipper bag, then put that in the bag with the dress. “I imagine she can wear her own shoes. What do you think?”
A pendant on the jewelry rack twinkled, begging to be inspected. She dangled the silver chain up to the bulb. The sapphire color stone and the surrounding rhinestones bounced shards of light at her. “Yes, I think she can wear her own shoes. How much is this?”
“You can have it if you want.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Really, I’d like you to have it.”
“Well, thank you.” Cilla slipped it into a small bag and handed it to Angie who deposited it in her purse, then asked, “You said your husband is a student teacher?”
“Yes. He…I think he had some sort of midlife crisis. One day he came home from work—he was a car salesman—and he said to me, ‘Cilla, I enrolled in teacher’s college today.’ You see, when we first met, his goal was to become a teacher. He loved working with kids.” She laughed. That’s when Angie saw that Cilla did in fact have crooked teeth. Now that they would qualify under school’s insurance program, she could get them fixed.
Cilla’s eyebrows lifted. “Wow. Would you mind putting it behind the counter? I’ll do a bit of research and re-price it. Thanks for pointing that out.”
Cilla went back to what she’d been doing. She selected a tie from a small rack. “Sad that nobody wears ties anymore.” She changed her mind, took a different tie, and laid it on the counter. “Gwen and I met at a school dance last year. The men were late, stuck at a faculty meeting. Gwen and I,” Cilla laughed, “didn’t have a thing in common. In spite of that we became best friends.”
At the last words, Cilla stopped her meandering around the racks and leaned against a counter. Before Angie could get to her and say some comforting words, Cilla was on the move again, as if she might escape the sadness dogging her.
“Your husband is a teacher?”
“Kiana forgot this one.” Gwen removed the hanger from a long skirted brown and orange print dress, laid the hanger on the counter, and gave a sad smile. “Yes, Josh is just finishing up his student teaching at Carlson—he majored in English. He’s been hoping they’ll offer him a permanent job. There are two openings coming available.”
“Isn’t October a funny time to be filling teaching positions?”
“Yes. Ordinarily it’s done during the summer. One teacher is leaving because she’s pregnant. The other, I’m not sure why he’s going.”
“He’s probably not pregnant.”
Cilla forced a grin at Angie’s joke. It was an awkward grin, posed, Angie thought, to hide bad teeth. Cilla deposited the hanger back on a rack, then folded the dress and fitted it into a shopping bag along with the slacks. “I wonder if she needs a slip to go under this.” Cilla made her way to a table holding a jumble of lingerie.
“I understand Gwen was seeing Ted Chalmers.”
“Ted. Yes.”
Funny way to say it. “Is something wrong with him?”
“No. No, I suppose he’s all right. He’s just a bit…I guess I’d use the word weird. The four of us spent some time together though mostly I think the men went along to please us girls. While Gwen and I found commonality in our differences, the men couldn’t seem to. They were stiff and formal with each other.” Cilla selected a slip and held it up to estimate the size. It was pretty with a three-inch trim of lace around the bottom.
“My opinion is that men are black and white creatures,” Angie said. “Things have to be right there for them to see that connection you mentioned.”
“I think you’re right.” Cilla folded the slip and added it to the bag. She walked to a tall rack on the farthest counter and spun it around slowly. After two rotations she chose a few pieces of costume jewelry and put them into a small zipper bag, then put that in the bag with the dress. “I imagine she can wear her own shoes. What do you think?”
A pendant on the jewelry rack twinkled, begging to be inspected. She dangled the silver chain up to the bulb. The sapphire color stone and the surrounding rhinestones bounced shards of light at her. “Yes, I think she can wear her own shoes. How much is this?”
“You can have it if you want.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Really, I’d like you to have it.”
“Well, thank you.” Cilla slipped it into a small bag and handed it to Angie who deposited it in her purse, then asked, “You said your husband is a student teacher?”
“Yes. He…I think he had some sort of midlife crisis. One day he came home from work—he was a car salesman—and he said to me, ‘Cilla, I enrolled in teacher’s college today.’ You see, when we first met, his goal was to become a teacher. He loved working with kids.” She laughed. That’s when Angie saw that Cilla did in fact have crooked teeth. Now that they would qualify under school’s insurance program, she could get them fixed.
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