Read Online A Bead in the Hand (Glass Bead Mystery Series Book 2) by Janice Peacock - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Janice Peacock
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why she was a hipster), her square-dancing dress swishing side to side as she walked. Minnie strolled down the center of the aisle, waving to her friends in their booths. This was her way of saying that she wasn’t going to stop and chat, or shop, because if she did, it would’ve taken hours for her to get to the snack bar.
After Minnie left, a woman who clearly had been shopping up a storm, judging by the number of bags in her hands, stopped by and bought one of my beads. It was a pretty bead with a bi-cone shape—a slender cylinder tapering to a point at each end. At its core, there was layer of silver foil with colorful twists of purple and aqua on the surface. This was my first sale of the day, and I realized I had no receipt books, no bags, no tissue paper, no calculator—they were all off-limits behind the crime scene tape.
“Can you wait one second?” I asked. “I need to grab some supplies.”
I ran to Minnie’s table. “Miles—help! I need a receipt book…Oh, and maybe a small zip-lock bag.”
“No problem. I’ve got Minnie’s supplies here. I’ve been processing payments for her all morning.”
“Glad about that,” I said, trying to hurry Miles along while my customer waited.
“Yeah, so I organized everything, since she had so many duplicates,” he continued, not getting the hint that I was in a hurry.
“Whatever you have, Miles, I really need it now. I’ve got a customer waiting,” I hissed, as I looked back at her and smiled sheepishly, holding up my index finger. Just one more minute, and I’d be right back. I thought about giving Miles a finger as well—the middle one.
“Oh, sure. Sorry. Here’s an envelope of things that were duplicates. I don’t think Minnie would mind if you used them,” Miles said, handing me a manila envelope stuffed with papers and receipt books.
I hurried in a half-run back to my table.
“I am so, so, so sorry,” I said, dumping the contents of the envelope on the table and searching through them.
“Ah, here it is. A receipt book,” I said, trying to act positive and professional.
I wrote the receipt, found a small zip-lock bag, and some tissue paper. My customer was staring at me impatiently, as I hurriedly wrapped the bead. She had more shopping to do, and I was slowing her down.
“Thanks for your purchase. And thanks for your patience,” I said with one final smile.
Wordlessly, the woman took her bead and vanished into the fray of people spending, spending, spending.
Minnie came by a few minutes later with lunch. “Here’s your hot dog,” she said, placing it on the table. “And heeeere’s your mustard and ketchup packets.”
What? No relish?
“Here’s your Coke. And your chips,” she continued, dropping them next to the hot dog. “Oh, and here’s your change.”
“Eighty-four cents?”
“Sorry, the snack bar is expensive.”
“Thanks, Minnie. At least I won’t starve.” Actually, lunch wasn’t bad. I put every bit of ketchup and mustard on the hot dog and that definitely helped. A few hundred calories can turn my world around.
I looked down the aisle at Minnie and Miles. They were sitting at Minnie’s table, smiling and eating fries and drinking shakes. Shakes! Fries! Nobody told me those yummy options were available. And Miles—he was eating them, too. So much for his gluten-free, non-dairy existence. He was breaking all his food rules today.
I looked through the papers and supplies Miles had given me. Price tags, pens, a calculator, and a few receipt books. Among the things were a half-dozen pages with drawings of beads and notes. I shoved them back into the envelope.
By two o’clock, sales were finally picking up, and I made several large sales in the last hour that the bazaar was open. I knew I’d at least paid my expenses for the weekend. I felt good about that—even if I didn’t sell anything else, I was in the black. What would my sales have been like if I wasn’t using a comforter as a table
After Minnie left, a woman who clearly had been shopping up a storm, judging by the number of bags in her hands, stopped by and bought one of my beads. It was a pretty bead with a bi-cone shape—a slender cylinder tapering to a point at each end. At its core, there was layer of silver foil with colorful twists of purple and aqua on the surface. This was my first sale of the day, and I realized I had no receipt books, no bags, no tissue paper, no calculator—they were all off-limits behind the crime scene tape.
“Can you wait one second?” I asked. “I need to grab some supplies.”
I ran to Minnie’s table. “Miles—help! I need a receipt book…Oh, and maybe a small zip-lock bag.”
“No problem. I’ve got Minnie’s supplies here. I’ve been processing payments for her all morning.”
“Glad about that,” I said, trying to hurry Miles along while my customer waited.
“Yeah, so I organized everything, since she had so many duplicates,” he continued, not getting the hint that I was in a hurry.
“Whatever you have, Miles, I really need it now. I’ve got a customer waiting,” I hissed, as I looked back at her and smiled sheepishly, holding up my index finger. Just one more minute, and I’d be right back. I thought about giving Miles a finger as well—the middle one.
“Oh, sure. Sorry. Here’s an envelope of things that were duplicates. I don’t think Minnie would mind if you used them,” Miles said, handing me a manila envelope stuffed with papers and receipt books.
I hurried in a half-run back to my table.
“I am so, so, so sorry,” I said, dumping the contents of the envelope on the table and searching through them.
“Ah, here it is. A receipt book,” I said, trying to act positive and professional.
I wrote the receipt, found a small zip-lock bag, and some tissue paper. My customer was staring at me impatiently, as I hurriedly wrapped the bead. She had more shopping to do, and I was slowing her down.
“Thanks for your purchase. And thanks for your patience,” I said with one final smile.
Wordlessly, the woman took her bead and vanished into the fray of people spending, spending, spending.
Minnie came by a few minutes later with lunch. “Here’s your hot dog,” she said, placing it on the table. “And heeeere’s your mustard and ketchup packets.”
What? No relish?
“Here’s your Coke. And your chips,” she continued, dropping them next to the hot dog. “Oh, and here’s your change.”
“Eighty-four cents?”
“Sorry, the snack bar is expensive.”
“Thanks, Minnie. At least I won’t starve.” Actually, lunch wasn’t bad. I put every bit of ketchup and mustard on the hot dog and that definitely helped. A few hundred calories can turn my world around.
I looked down the aisle at Minnie and Miles. They were sitting at Minnie’s table, smiling and eating fries and drinking shakes. Shakes! Fries! Nobody told me those yummy options were available. And Miles—he was eating them, too. So much for his gluten-free, non-dairy existence. He was breaking all his food rules today.
I looked through the papers and supplies Miles had given me. Price tags, pens, a calculator, and a few receipt books. Among the things were a half-dozen pages with drawings of beads and notes. I shoved them back into the envelope.
By two o’clock, sales were finally picking up, and I made several large sales in the last hour that the bazaar was open. I knew I’d at least paid my expenses for the weekend. I felt good about that—even if I didn’t sell anything else, I was in the black. What would my sales have been like if I wasn’t using a comforter as a table
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