his sailboat, which he’d named
Temporary Relief
. He’d have fun on the lake, with the wind blowing through his hair, while she toiled away in her own little sweatshop.
Swell.
As she walked through the lobby toward Artisans Alley’s entrance, she could once again hear Ida ranting. Enough was enough.
“And there she is!” Ida accused, pointing a finger as Katie entered the store.
She took Ida by the arm and escorted her back into the tag room.
“I told you, I will not work under these conditions,” Ida said.
“I’m not asking you to,” Katie shot back, and instead she picked up Ida’s purse, which had been sitting on the floor beside her chair, and handed it to her. “It’s time for you to go home, Ida.”
“I can’t go home. It’s the middle of the day.”
“You’re not staying here if all you’re going to do is complain and say disparaging things about me in front of the customers.”
“Was I doing that?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Well. Oh.”
“You may come back tomorrow, but only if you’re dressed appropriately and don’t talk to customers. Do I make myself clear?”
Ida slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stalked out the door in a huff. Katie didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with her anymore that day and soon followed, turning right and heading toward the back of the building and her office.
As she ducked into the vendors’ lounge, she ran straight into the opened refrigerator door. “Hey, watch it,” said a surly voice she recognized. Vance Ingram straightened. “Oh, Katie. It’s you. Sorry,” he said and slammed the fridge door.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Yeah. My lunch. It’s gone. I’ve been thinking about those leftover barbecue ribs for hours and I just searched every shelf and my container is definitely missing. So now I’m out lunch
and
my Tupperware. Janey”—his wife—“is going to kill me when I don’t come home with it.”
With his snow-white beard and wire-framed glasses, Vance always reminded Katie of Santa Claus, but in his present mood he was definitely not emulating Jolly OldSaint Nick, and that was unusual for Vance, who seldom got angry about anything.
“We’ve had a rash of food and pop thefts for the past few days. I’ve been meaning to put a sign up on the fridge to warn people not to take what doesn’t belong to them.” She sighed and shook her head. “I feel like a grade school teacher—I shouldn’t even have to do that.”
“You print it—I’ll hang it,” Vance offered, and followed Katie to her office. “Have you thought about putting up a video camera?” he asked, as Katie stowed her purse in her desk drawer and tapped the spacebar on her keyboard to awaken her computer.
“No, but it’s a good idea. The truth is, I don’t have the money to put one up. And if I did, I’d probably train it on one of the exits to catch shoplifters.”
“I’ve got a fake one in my booth. It’s battery operated and has a little red light that blinks every couple of seconds. Since I put it in, I haven’t had as many items disappear.”
“Yeah, but everybody here knows it’s fake. It wouldn’t be much of a deterrent in the vendors’ lounge.”
“I guess you’re right,” Vance admitted.
Katie typed the message, changing the font size so that it filled the page, and then hit print. The page came rolling out seconds later. She glanced over it to look for typos before handing it to Vance.
“You and Janey and Vance Junior will be at the potluck on Saturday night, right?” Katie asked.
“We wouldn’t miss it. Janey’s bringing her me-maw’s ambrosia pudding. Rose has me manning the barbecue. Thanks for supplying the burgers and hots.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Katie hadn’t yet decided what else to bring to the dinner. It had to be some kind of dessert. She’d have to figure it out soon before Rose got on
her
case. “Anything happen since I went to lunch?” she asked.
“Just Ida and
Temporary Relief
. He’d have fun on the lake, with the wind blowing through his hair, while she toiled away in her own little sweatshop.
Swell.
As she walked through the lobby toward Artisans Alley’s entrance, she could once again hear Ida ranting. Enough was enough.
“And there she is!” Ida accused, pointing a finger as Katie entered the store.
She took Ida by the arm and escorted her back into the tag room.
“I told you, I will not work under these conditions,” Ida said.
“I’m not asking you to,” Katie shot back, and instead she picked up Ida’s purse, which had been sitting on the floor beside her chair, and handed it to her. “It’s time for you to go home, Ida.”
“I can’t go home. It’s the middle of the day.”
“You’re not staying here if all you’re going to do is complain and say disparaging things about me in front of the customers.”
“Was I doing that?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Well. Oh.”
“You may come back tomorrow, but only if you’re dressed appropriately and don’t talk to customers. Do I make myself clear?”
Ida slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stalked out the door in a huff. Katie didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with her anymore that day and soon followed, turning right and heading toward the back of the building and her office.
As she ducked into the vendors’ lounge, she ran straight into the opened refrigerator door. “Hey, watch it,” said a surly voice she recognized. Vance Ingram straightened. “Oh, Katie. It’s you. Sorry,” he said and slammed the fridge door.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Yeah. My lunch. It’s gone. I’ve been thinking about those leftover barbecue ribs for hours and I just searched every shelf and my container is definitely missing. So now I’m out lunch
and
my Tupperware. Janey”—his wife—“is going to kill me when I don’t come home with it.”
With his snow-white beard and wire-framed glasses, Vance always reminded Katie of Santa Claus, but in his present mood he was definitely not emulating Jolly OldSaint Nick, and that was unusual for Vance, who seldom got angry about anything.
“We’ve had a rash of food and pop thefts for the past few days. I’ve been meaning to put a sign up on the fridge to warn people not to take what doesn’t belong to them.” She sighed and shook her head. “I feel like a grade school teacher—I shouldn’t even have to do that.”
“You print it—I’ll hang it,” Vance offered, and followed Katie to her office. “Have you thought about putting up a video camera?” he asked, as Katie stowed her purse in her desk drawer and tapped the spacebar on her keyboard to awaken her computer.
“No, but it’s a good idea. The truth is, I don’t have the money to put one up. And if I did, I’d probably train it on one of the exits to catch shoplifters.”
“I’ve got a fake one in my booth. It’s battery operated and has a little red light that blinks every couple of seconds. Since I put it in, I haven’t had as many items disappear.”
“Yeah, but everybody here knows it’s fake. It wouldn’t be much of a deterrent in the vendors’ lounge.”
“I guess you’re right,” Vance admitted.
Katie typed the message, changing the font size so that it filled the page, and then hit print. The page came rolling out seconds later. She glanced over it to look for typos before handing it to Vance.
“You and Janey and Vance Junior will be at the potluck on Saturday night, right?” Katie asked.
“We wouldn’t miss it. Janey’s bringing her me-maw’s ambrosia pudding. Rose has me manning the barbecue. Thanks for supplying the burgers and hots.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Katie hadn’t yet decided what else to bring to the dinner. It had to be some kind of dessert. She’d have to figure it out soon before Rose got on
her
case. “Anything happen since I went to lunch?” she asked.
“Just Ida and
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