father introduced . He must be especially upset with her. He usually said “Mary Shae,” to keep at least some semblance of peace. “And this is Miss Tisdale. She’d like to discuss an original creation. I’ll be in the back.”
. . . Crushing the spirits of the employees , Shae added mentally. At least they had a better chance to defend themselves than a cage-full of tame birds. She watched him exit through a curtained doorway before she nodded a welcome to Miss Tisdale.
The customer glanced once again toward the front door. Then she regarded Shae with a look of frank appraisal that would have been better suited to her examination of the bracelet . Or to a cat considering a bird. “You are Shae?” she asked.
Shae smiled, pleased that her father’s misleading introduction had availed him nothing . “Mary Shae,” she explained, “but I do prefer Shae.”
“I am interested in something unique,” Miss Tisdale continued, “something designed with me, specifically, in mind . A sort of a brooch, preferably with diamonds.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t elaborate about a social event she’d like this for, the rivals she’d show up, nor even the beaus she planned to dazzle . Strange, thought Shae, for something in the woman’s voice made her every syllable sound smug.
Shae glanced into a pair of almond-shaped eyes whose color matched the gray-blue of the sea . Remembering gulf waters, she pushed aside a flutter of uneasiness and focused on the image. Smiling with pleasure, Shae recalled the shell, the sunset on the beach last evening. Yes, that was what she needed. Pain and embarrassment had swept the memory aside, but now it had returned to her. And this time no arrogant man would drive it from her. She wanted desperately to craft that spiral shell.
Shae sketched rapidly on a pad of paper she’d carried from the workroom . When she looked up, Miss Tisdale’s face mirrored rapt attention.
Shae finished her drawing . “But it has to be a pendant. Can you see it?”
Miss Tisdale picked up the drawing reverently, then stared at Shae as if she’d spun gold out of straw . Almost convinced, she needed only a few more words to seal the bargain.
“The sea,” Shae concluded . “Your eyes are of the water, like the shell.”
Shae felt foolish saying it, though the woman did have attractive eyes . It always amazed her how much the customers seemed to value a few comments from the artist.
Shae had no more words to offer; she never did . As far as she was concerned, her sketch and the samples of her work spoke for themselves. Lately, the pieces she had fashioned for other Port Providence ladies spoke for her as well, when they were worn at events such as the one that Shae had ruined just last night. Events she’d never be expected to attend again, she thought contendedly.
Miss Tisdale left a sizable deposit, all in cash . She never did explain the purpose of the pendant: whether it marked some special occasion or with what it might be worn. Most women prattled on or bragged about the devotion of whoever would be paying for the thing. This customer, instead, seemed satisfied with a quiet air of arrogance. Shae felt relieved to be spared the small talk. She had work to do.
Throughout the day, she worked on refining the design and ordering the materials she wanted . Miss Tisdale’s piece would be the finest she could craft. And why not? The young woman said she didn’t give two hoots what it cost.
*
As he sorted through the weekly cargo reports, John Frindly’s mouth puckered as if he’d just sucked on a half-ripe persimmon. Phillip had stepped into his manager’s office to check upcoming orders. He watched with interest as Frindly quickly flipped a torn sheet of paper to the bottom of his stack.
“That didn’t look like any cargo list . What is it?” Phillip asked.
“Nothing interesting, Dr. Payton,” Frindly answered quickly . Too quickly. His bald spot darkened to nearly crimson within its fringe
. . . Crushing the spirits of the employees , Shae added mentally. At least they had a better chance to defend themselves than a cage-full of tame birds. She watched him exit through a curtained doorway before she nodded a welcome to Miss Tisdale.
The customer glanced once again toward the front door. Then she regarded Shae with a look of frank appraisal that would have been better suited to her examination of the bracelet . Or to a cat considering a bird. “You are Shae?” she asked.
Shae smiled, pleased that her father’s misleading introduction had availed him nothing . “Mary Shae,” she explained, “but I do prefer Shae.”
“I am interested in something unique,” Miss Tisdale continued, “something designed with me, specifically, in mind . A sort of a brooch, preferably with diamonds.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t elaborate about a social event she’d like this for, the rivals she’d show up, nor even the beaus she planned to dazzle . Strange, thought Shae, for something in the woman’s voice made her every syllable sound smug.
Shae glanced into a pair of almond-shaped eyes whose color matched the gray-blue of the sea . Remembering gulf waters, she pushed aside a flutter of uneasiness and focused on the image. Smiling with pleasure, Shae recalled the shell, the sunset on the beach last evening. Yes, that was what she needed. Pain and embarrassment had swept the memory aside, but now it had returned to her. And this time no arrogant man would drive it from her. She wanted desperately to craft that spiral shell.
Shae sketched rapidly on a pad of paper she’d carried from the workroom . When she looked up, Miss Tisdale’s face mirrored rapt attention.
Shae finished her drawing . “But it has to be a pendant. Can you see it?”
Miss Tisdale picked up the drawing reverently, then stared at Shae as if she’d spun gold out of straw . Almost convinced, she needed only a few more words to seal the bargain.
“The sea,” Shae concluded . “Your eyes are of the water, like the shell.”
Shae felt foolish saying it, though the woman did have attractive eyes . It always amazed her how much the customers seemed to value a few comments from the artist.
Shae had no more words to offer; she never did . As far as she was concerned, her sketch and the samples of her work spoke for themselves. Lately, the pieces she had fashioned for other Port Providence ladies spoke for her as well, when they were worn at events such as the one that Shae had ruined just last night. Events she’d never be expected to attend again, she thought contendedly.
Miss Tisdale left a sizable deposit, all in cash . She never did explain the purpose of the pendant: whether it marked some special occasion or with what it might be worn. Most women prattled on or bragged about the devotion of whoever would be paying for the thing. This customer, instead, seemed satisfied with a quiet air of arrogance. Shae felt relieved to be spared the small talk. She had work to do.
Throughout the day, she worked on refining the design and ordering the materials she wanted . Miss Tisdale’s piece would be the finest she could craft. And why not? The young woman said she didn’t give two hoots what it cost.
*
As he sorted through the weekly cargo reports, John Frindly’s mouth puckered as if he’d just sucked on a half-ripe persimmon. Phillip had stepped into his manager’s office to check upcoming orders. He watched with interest as Frindly quickly flipped a torn sheet of paper to the bottom of his stack.
“That didn’t look like any cargo list . What is it?” Phillip asked.
“Nothing interesting, Dr. Payton,” Frindly answered quickly . Too quickly. His bald spot darkened to nearly crimson within its fringe
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