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Seller of Soles
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Chapter 2:- Purchase
As business slowed down, November slipped away to her office, leaving the others to run the shop. They did not need her now, though she would be back on the floor for the mid-day rush. Many of her best customers were professional women who did their shopping on lunch breaks.
She perused her emails and then outlined her plans for the holiday season. She would keep the gold and brown velvet up until Thanksgiving and than change to cream and diamonds with just a touch of midnight blue.
November had opened Clickitty Clack ten years ago after completing her MBA at Berkeley and, inspired by her own spectacular shoe collection, had bought this little shop near Union Square in San Francisco. November understood the business end of running a shop, but it wasn't until she hired Gayle Afton that Clickitty Clack really took off. Gayle brought energy to the sales floor and as well as a detailed knowledge of the fashion world, impressing customers and helping November learn which designers she had to carry.
Rose, hired three years later, was hired on because she needed work and November would have done anything for her. They had been close friends since early college and Rose had never failed to come to November's need, whether because of a bad break-up or a fight with her parents. November trusted Rose completely--she had earned it.
She worried that Rose wouldn't be happy in a shoe boutique, but Rose, with her artists eye, brought color and style to the shop. She seemed to enjoy her work and was very organized, which made the shop run as smooth as the leather soles they sold.
Today, Clickitty Clack was high on the San Francisco 'must see' list and November still loved shoes, but she intended to sell the shop when the time and price were right. She wanted to be a shoe designer and start her own line, but she needed a bit more seed capital before making the attempt.
She thought her parents might have helped her out, but they disapproved of her life in California and had stared at her in horror when she announced that she was off to Berkeley. They called once a week with a long list of reasons to come back to Maryland and live off their bounty. Better still, her mother would say, to meet and marry one of her friends' Ivy League educated sons.
November wrinkled her nose at the thought. She didn't know what kind of man she was looking for, but he would certainly not be one of the smooth-chinned, white-teethed Harvard boys her parents' approved of.
She finished with her holiday plan and was reviewing the monthly budget when Rose poked her head in the door.
“Mrs. Holister is here and she wants to see you.”
November groaned and Rose laughed. “Nothing but the best, my friend. Take it as a compliment. Listen, I'm dying for a cup of coffee. If you could just stay on the floor until I get back?”
November grimaced, but waved Rose out the back door.
She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. She put on a smile she saved especially for high-maintenance, but lovable customers, and walked briskly out to the floor.
November didn't need to look at the woman's shoes, though she glanced at them instinctively. They were always the best, and most expensive, on the market.
“Mrs. Holister, how are you? What a lovely coat! Discovered your inner Cruella De Vil, have you?”
She was a large woman in a fluffy white coat and a broad smile, and gave November her usual, suffocating hug. Her orange-red hair was crisp with hairspray and some of her make-up smudged November's cheek.
“What nonsense, Novie. Fur in San Francisco! As if I would! It's faux. Now, I came for my Jimmy Choos,” she said. “I expect you were wondering how long I would be, but I always remember, don’t I?”
“I thought that might be it,” November said. “But Gayle or Kim could help you with that. Was there something you needed me for?”
Mrs. Holister winked.
“Can’t pull anything over you, can I? I just noticed the shoes in the back corner and I am in love! That rack is always empty when I come and now I see why!”
“The Mortiers? Yes, they just came in this morning. They are very popular. Which ones did you like?”
“I love the red wedges. The silver star on the wedge is so fabulous! And there is still another month or two of summer, isn’t there? Anyway, in California you can wear sandals year round. I must have them. How much?”
“Two thousand."
“Worth every penny,” Mrs. Holister snapped a fat finger. “Nothing but the best for me! I'll try them on.”
Magically, they fit.
“Didn’t I just know they would fit,” Mrs. Holister said, clapping her hands. “Joe and I are off on a cruise, you know, and these will be just right with my new sundress. Red is one of my best colors and Joe will love them!”
After a long list of her husband’s better qualities and a detailed description of her new autumn wardrobe, Mrs. Holister looked up and tapped her three chins. "I see the Bridge Painting hasn't sold yet. I didn't want to take it off your wall--it looks so lovely there and I always look forward to seeing it when I come, but I realized yesterday that if I didn't buy it, someone else would and that would be dreadful!"
"Rose's paintings are very popular," Gayle agreed, winking at November. "And I'm surprised The Bridge has lasted this long. Really, I'm half inclined to buy it myself!"
"Oh no, you don't," Mrs. Holister wagged a finger. "I'll take it! I'll send my driver, Robert, in after it when I go."
Soon she was on her way with two pairs of shoes in one of Clickitty Clack’s embroidered fabric bags and her exhausted-looking driver struggling under the weight of The Bridge, which at four feet by six, was no easy task.
Rose wandered in sipping a large black coffee and glanced at the black limo pulling away from the curve. "What did she buy this time?"
"She took your Bridge and the red Mortiers," November said. "They do seem to just fly out of here, don't they?"
Rose's mouth parted in surprise. "She bought the--the Bridge? I didn't know she was interested...I mean, she talked about it, but I thought it was just talk."
"What's wrong?" November asked. "You don't look happy. I thought you wanted to sell The Bridge."
"I did," Rose bit her lip. "Ignore me--coffee hasn't sunk in yet. I guess I never thought anyone would want such a large painting. I--I half wanted to keep The Bridge for myself. Did you say she bought Mortiers too?"
"Yes," November said. "Her first pair, which is funny because they're exactly what she likes."
“Waste of a pretty bag,” Kimberly said, leaning her chin in one hand. “How many of them do you think she has now?”
“Dozens,” Gayle said with a short laugh. “That woman will shop her husband into bankruptcy.”
“If she bought out Cartier every day for the rest of her life, she couldn’t spend what he makes in a year,” November smiled. “At least she enjoys herself.”
She turned to greet a pale, thin-lipped woman who had just entered the store and was looking around nervously. Her mousy hair hung limply around her face and her calloused hands gripped a cheep, old handbag tightly.
November peeked at her cheep, falling-apart shoes. Not a 'buying customer', but not the type to try everything on either. And though she knew the woman couldn't afford anything in the shop, it didn't stop her from welcoming the woman with real warmth.
November knew that for many women high-fashion shoes were like chocolate--soothing and delicious--even if you couldn't buy them. Some ladies came to admire the lovely designs, maybe even try a few on, then shake their heads and promise themselves that someday they would do it. They would buy a pair. They left the store with this happy conviction and returned to their scrimp-and-save lives more contented than before.
Rose called it "Better-Than-Sex-Shoe-Therapy".
"Welcome to Clickitty Clack," November said, holding out her hand. "Would you like to see our newest Manolos? They just came in this morning--the new fall fashions."
The woman glanced at November's hand, but didn't take it.
"No," she whispered. “But I heard you carry Jean Mortiers and I need a pair of red wedge sandals.”
As business slowed down, November slipped away to her office, leaving the others to run the shop. They did not need her now, though she would be back on the floor for the mid-day rush. Many of her best customers were professional women who did their shopping on lunch breaks.
She perused her emails and then outlined her plans for the holiday season. She would keep the gold and brown velvet up until Thanksgiving and than change to cream and diamonds with just a touch of midnight blue.
November had opened Clickitty Clack ten years ago after completing her MBA at Berkeley and, inspired by her own spectacular shoe collection, had bought this little shop near Union Square in San Francisco. November understood the business end of running a shop, but it wasn't until she hired Gayle Afton that Clickitty Clack really took off. Gayle brought energy to the sales floor and as well as a detailed knowledge of the fashion world, impressing customers and helping November learn which designers she had to carry.
Rose, hired three years later, was hired on because she needed work and November would have done anything for her. They had been close friends since early college and Rose had never failed to come to November's need, whether because of a bad break-up or a fight with her parents. November trusted Rose completely--she had earned it.
She worried that Rose wouldn't be happy in a shoe boutique, but Rose, with her artists eye, brought color and style to the shop. She seemed to enjoy her work and was very organized, which made the shop run as smooth as the leather soles they sold.
Today, Clickitty Clack was high on the San Francisco 'must see' list and November still loved shoes, but she intended to sell the shop when the time and price were right. She wanted to be a shoe designer and start her own line, but she needed a bit more seed capital before making the attempt.
She thought her parents might have helped her out, but they disapproved of her life in California and had stared at her in horror when she announced that she was off to Berkeley. They called once a week with a long list of reasons to come back to Maryland and live off their bounty. Better still, her mother would say, to meet and marry one of her friends' Ivy League educated sons.
November wrinkled her nose at the thought. She didn't know what kind of man she was looking for, but he would certainly not be one of the smooth-chinned, white-teethed Harvard boys her parents' approved of.
She finished with her holiday plan and was reviewing the monthly budget when Rose poked her head in the door.
“Mrs. Holister is here and she wants to see you.”
November groaned and Rose laughed. “Nothing but the best, my friend. Take it as a compliment. Listen, I'm dying for a cup of coffee. If you could just stay on the floor until I get back?”
November grimaced, but waved Rose out the back door.
She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. She put on a smile she saved especially for high-maintenance, but lovable customers, and walked briskly out to the floor.
November didn't need to look at the woman's shoes, though she glanced at them instinctively. They were always the best, and most expensive, on the market.
“Mrs. Holister, how are you? What a lovely coat! Discovered your inner Cruella De Vil, have you?”
She was a large woman in a fluffy white coat and a broad smile, and gave November her usual, suffocating hug. Her orange-red hair was crisp with hairspray and some of her make-up smudged November's cheek.
“What nonsense, Novie. Fur in San Francisco! As if I would! It's faux. Now, I came for my Jimmy Choos,” she said. “I expect you were wondering how long I would be, but I always remember, don’t I?”
“I thought that might be it,” November said. “But Gayle or Kim could help you with that. Was there something you needed me for?”
Mrs. Holister winked.
“Can’t pull anything over you, can I? I just noticed the shoes in the back corner and I am in love! That rack is always empty when I come and now I see why!”
“The Mortiers? Yes, they just came in this morning. They are very popular. Which ones did you like?”
“I love the red wedges. The silver star on the wedge is so fabulous! And there is still another month or two of summer, isn’t there? Anyway, in California you can wear sandals year round. I must have them. How much?”
“Two thousand."
“Worth every penny,” Mrs. Holister snapped a fat finger. “Nothing but the best for me! I'll try them on.”
Magically, they fit.
“Didn’t I just know they would fit,” Mrs. Holister said, clapping her hands. “Joe and I are off on a cruise, you know, and these will be just right with my new sundress. Red is one of my best colors and Joe will love them!”
After a long list of her husband’s better qualities and a detailed description of her new autumn wardrobe, Mrs. Holister looked up and tapped her three chins. "I see the Bridge Painting hasn't sold yet. I didn't want to take it off your wall--it looks so lovely there and I always look forward to seeing it when I come, but I realized yesterday that if I didn't buy it, someone else would and that would be dreadful!"
"Rose's paintings are very popular," Gayle agreed, winking at November. "And I'm surprised The Bridge has lasted this long. Really, I'm half inclined to buy it myself!"
"Oh no, you don't," Mrs. Holister wagged a finger. "I'll take it! I'll send my driver, Robert, in after it when I go."
Soon she was on her way with two pairs of shoes in one of Clickitty Clack’s embroidered fabric bags and her exhausted-looking driver struggling under the weight of The Bridge, which at four feet by six, was no easy task.
Rose wandered in sipping a large black coffee and glanced at the black limo pulling away from the curve. "What did she buy this time?"
"She took your Bridge and the red Mortiers," November said. "They do seem to just fly out of here, don't they?"
Rose's mouth parted in surprise. "She bought the--the Bridge? I didn't know she was interested...I mean, she talked about it, but I thought it was just talk."
"What's wrong?" November asked. "You don't look happy. I thought you wanted to sell The Bridge."
"I did," Rose bit her lip. "Ignore me--coffee hasn't sunk in yet. I guess I never thought anyone would want such a large painting. I--I half wanted to keep The Bridge for myself. Did you say she bought Mortiers too?"
"Yes," November said. "Her first pair, which is funny because they're exactly what she likes."
“Waste of a pretty bag,” Kimberly said, leaning her chin in one hand. “How many of them do you think she has now?”
“Dozens,” Gayle said with a short laugh. “That woman will shop her husband into bankruptcy.”
“If she bought out Cartier every day for the rest of her life, she couldn’t spend what he makes in a year,” November smiled. “At least she enjoys herself.”
She turned to greet a pale, thin-lipped woman who had just entered the store and was looking around nervously. Her mousy hair hung limply around her face and her calloused hands gripped a cheep, old handbag tightly.
November peeked at her cheep, falling-apart shoes. Not a 'buying customer', but not the type to try everything on either. And though she knew the woman couldn't afford anything in the shop, it didn't stop her from welcoming the woman with real warmth.
November knew that for many women high-fashion shoes were like chocolate--soothing and delicious--even if you couldn't buy them. Some ladies came to admire the lovely designs, maybe even try a few on, then shake their heads and promise themselves that someday they would do it. They would buy a pair. They left the store with this happy conviction and returned to their scrimp-and-save lives more contented than before.
Rose called it "Better-Than-Sex-Shoe-Therapy".
"Welcome to Clickitty Clack," November said, holding out her hand. "Would you like to see our newest Manolos? They just came in this morning--the new fall fashions."
The woman glanced at November's hand, but didn't take it.
"No," she whispered. “But I heard you carry Jean Mortiers and I need a pair of red wedge sandals.”
