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Seller of Soles
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Chapter 3:- Distress
“Red Mortiers?” November said. “I’m sorry, it looks like we have blue, green, gold, and pink, but no red. I can recommend the gold. Gold shoes look great with just about anything. What were you planning to wear them with?”
The woman bit her lower lip and clutched the handbag tighter than ever. “I must have the red wedges. Please check again? I really need them right away.”
“I’m afraid we sold the only pair this morning,” November said, a little surprised by the woman's evident distress. “I could try to order a pair for you. Mortier doesn't usually take special orders from our shop, but if you really need them--what size are you looking for?”
The woman dropped her handbag and burst into tears. The bag burst open and the contents spilled onto the floor--a lipstick, a pen, fifty cents in loose change, and a gold Visa card. Rose knelt quickly and scooped them up.
“W-who did you s-sell them to? I could talk to them, m-maybe buy them back,” she sobbed.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give out other clients' information, but we have lots of lovely red sandals.”
"B-but I was told you would have the red Mortiers for me," the woman's lip trembled. "Red Mortiers."
Rose came forward and gave the woman her handbag. “Perhaps I can help you, ma’am. I think I'm the one you talked to about the red shoes. Weren't you here last week? Yes, I thought I knew you. There must have been some kind of mix up, but I can make a few calls and if you'll give me your number I'll let you know when I've straightened it all out. In the mean time, come look at these red Guccis. We just got them in yesterday. Aren't they fabulous?”
“I don’t think--”
But Rose guided her smoothly to the opposite wall and, in a few minutes, had the woman calm and almost smiling.
“I’ll think about it,” she told Rose, “and thank you for your help.”
“You are very welcome! Here’s my card. Let me know if you decide you want them.”
The woman left in a hurry and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.
“What was that about?” November asked.
“I wish you hadn’t sold the red wedges to Mrs. Holister,” Rose said. "What a mess!"
“What happened?”
"I promised her a pair of red Mortiers. They always send at least one red pair, so I told her she could have them. I don't know if she'll be back, Novie. She wasn't happy."
"Oh, wasn't she?" Gayle said, applying a third layer of cherry-red lipstick. "I thought, over all, she took it very well."
Kimberly laughed, but November was appalled.
“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked Rose. “We agreed to share that kind of information so we could avoid situations like this. It's what the Client Book is for!”
"I forgot about the Client Book," Rose admitted. "In fact, I forgot all about that woman until she came in this morning. Honestly, I don't think I took her request seriously. She doesn't look like someone who could afford Mortiers, does she?"
"Exactly what I thought," Gayle chimed in. "Ragbag woman! I suppose she thought the Mortiers would dress up her straggly brown wardrobe."
"Did you the shoes she was wearing?" November asked, frowning. "I would have bet today's profits that she didn't have the money for any of our shoes, let alone Mortiers. Her handbag too. I don't mean the bag itself, but what was in it. It was wrong somehow."
"What do you mean?" said Rose. "Most women carry lipstick and credit cards."
"But she wasn't wearing lipstick," Gayle pointed out.
"And who carries a credit card without a wallet?" November said.
"That's true," Rose looked thoughtful. "She was a strange woman."
“Maybe she's just crazy,” Kimberly said, jumping up to sit on the counter. “Crying over a pair of sandals! They were pretty, but nothing special. And we could have ordered another pair.”
“Maybe not,” said Gayle. “Mortier never sends more than one pair in each color and we only get the one shipment. She may never get them.”
"But she might get next month's red shoes," November said.
"I don't think she'll want them," Rose bit the tip of her thumb. "It's funny, but I'd swear she knew exactly which shoes she wanted. Remember, she said she was looking for red wedges. How did she know they would be wedges? We don't even know what we're getting until they arrive!"
November tugged on her hair. "It doesn't make sense. I wonder who she was. Did you get a name?"
"I think it's Julia, but I can't be sure," Rose said. "As I said, I didn't take her request seriously."
"If you see her again get a name," said November.
“One of these days I’ll buy a pair of Mortiers for my collection,” Gayle said. “I just realized I don’t have a single pair!”
"Me either," Kimberly said. "Too bad none of these are in my size. I like the pink heels."
"Me too," Gayle agreed. "Look at the roses on the wedge--hand-stitched or I'm a blond!"
Kimberly giggled. "You are a blond."
"Only when I feel like it, sweetie," Gayle winked.
“You don’t want to waste your money on Mortiers,” Rose argued. “Or your parents' money, in Kim's case.”
"They wouldn't mind,” Kimberly laughed. "At least, Mom wouldn't. Remember, my mom's got a warehouse with a pair of every shoe ever made. She'd encourage me!"
"I've seen your mother's collection," November agreed. "But she wouldn't encourage you to buy Mortiers--she'd beat you to them!"
They all laughed. Gayle moved away as a well-dressed woman tugging a bored toddler trudged into the shop.
“Why do you bother to work here, Kim?” November asked suddenly. “It's not that I want you to quit. I don't. But you don’t need the money and you’re sixteen and terribly pretty. I would think you’d like to spend your summer on a beach or hanging out with friends."
Kimberly flushed. “My friends travel all summer, just like my parents, and it’s no fun to go to the beach by yourself. I like it here. You guys are cool and I get to see all the latest styles. Not everything has to be about money.”
“For you,” Rose said under her breath.
Two fashionably dressed women and a harassed-looking man entered the shop and the conversation ended.
Copyright © 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Laura Lyle
“Red Mortiers?” November said. “I’m sorry, it looks like we have blue, green, gold, and pink, but no red. I can recommend the gold. Gold shoes look great with just about anything. What were you planning to wear them with?”
The woman bit her lower lip and clutched the handbag tighter than ever. “I must have the red wedges. Please check again? I really need them right away.”
“I’m afraid we sold the only pair this morning,” November said, a little surprised by the woman's evident distress. “I could try to order a pair for you. Mortier doesn't usually take special orders from our shop, but if you really need them--what size are you looking for?”
The woman dropped her handbag and burst into tears. The bag burst open and the contents spilled onto the floor--a lipstick, a pen, fifty cents in loose change, and a gold Visa card. Rose knelt quickly and scooped them up.
“W-who did you s-sell them to? I could talk to them, m-maybe buy them back,” she sobbed.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give out other clients' information, but we have lots of lovely red sandals.”
"B-but I was told you would have the red Mortiers for me," the woman's lip trembled. "Red Mortiers."
Rose came forward and gave the woman her handbag. “Perhaps I can help you, ma’am. I think I'm the one you talked to about the red shoes. Weren't you here last week? Yes, I thought I knew you. There must have been some kind of mix up, but I can make a few calls and if you'll give me your number I'll let you know when I've straightened it all out. In the mean time, come look at these red Guccis. We just got them in yesterday. Aren't they fabulous?”
“I don’t think--”
But Rose guided her smoothly to the opposite wall and, in a few minutes, had the woman calm and almost smiling.
“I’ll think about it,” she told Rose, “and thank you for your help.”
“You are very welcome! Here’s my card. Let me know if you decide you want them.”
The woman left in a hurry and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.
“What was that about?” November asked.
“I wish you hadn’t sold the red wedges to Mrs. Holister,” Rose said. "What a mess!"
“What happened?”
"I promised her a pair of red Mortiers. They always send at least one red pair, so I told her she could have them. I don't know if she'll be back, Novie. She wasn't happy."
"Oh, wasn't she?" Gayle said, applying a third layer of cherry-red lipstick. "I thought, over all, she took it very well."
Kimberly laughed, but November was appalled.
“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked Rose. “We agreed to share that kind of information so we could avoid situations like this. It's what the Client Book is for!”
"I forgot about the Client Book," Rose admitted. "In fact, I forgot all about that woman until she came in this morning. Honestly, I don't think I took her request seriously. She doesn't look like someone who could afford Mortiers, does she?"
"Exactly what I thought," Gayle chimed in. "Ragbag woman! I suppose she thought the Mortiers would dress up her straggly brown wardrobe."
"Did you the shoes she was wearing?" November asked, frowning. "I would have bet today's profits that she didn't have the money for any of our shoes, let alone Mortiers. Her handbag too. I don't mean the bag itself, but what was in it. It was wrong somehow."
"What do you mean?" said Rose. "Most women carry lipstick and credit cards."
"But she wasn't wearing lipstick," Gayle pointed out.
"And who carries a credit card without a wallet?" November said.
"That's true," Rose looked thoughtful. "She was a strange woman."
“Maybe she's just crazy,” Kimberly said, jumping up to sit on the counter. “Crying over a pair of sandals! They were pretty, but nothing special. And we could have ordered another pair.”
“Maybe not,” said Gayle. “Mortier never sends more than one pair in each color and we only get the one shipment. She may never get them.”
"But she might get next month's red shoes," November said.
"I don't think she'll want them," Rose bit the tip of her thumb. "It's funny, but I'd swear she knew exactly which shoes she wanted. Remember, she said she was looking for red wedges. How did she know they would be wedges? We don't even know what we're getting until they arrive!"
November tugged on her hair. "It doesn't make sense. I wonder who she was. Did you get a name?"
"I think it's Julia, but I can't be sure," Rose said. "As I said, I didn't take her request seriously."
"If you see her again get a name," said November.
“One of these days I’ll buy a pair of Mortiers for my collection,” Gayle said. “I just realized I don’t have a single pair!”
"Me either," Kimberly said. "Too bad none of these are in my size. I like the pink heels."
"Me too," Gayle agreed. "Look at the roses on the wedge--hand-stitched or I'm a blond!"
Kimberly giggled. "You are a blond."
"Only when I feel like it, sweetie," Gayle winked.
“You don’t want to waste your money on Mortiers,” Rose argued. “Or your parents' money, in Kim's case.”
"They wouldn't mind,” Kimberly laughed. "At least, Mom wouldn't. Remember, my mom's got a warehouse with a pair of every shoe ever made. She'd encourage me!"
"I've seen your mother's collection," November agreed. "But she wouldn't encourage you to buy Mortiers--she'd beat you to them!"
They all laughed. Gayle moved away as a well-dressed woman tugging a bored toddler trudged into the shop.
“Why do you bother to work here, Kim?” November asked suddenly. “It's not that I want you to quit. I don't. But you don’t need the money and you’re sixteen and terribly pretty. I would think you’d like to spend your summer on a beach or hanging out with friends."
Kimberly flushed. “My friends travel all summer, just like my parents, and it’s no fun to go to the beach by yourself. I like it here. You guys are cool and I get to see all the latest styles. Not everything has to be about money.”
“For you,” Rose said under her breath.
Two fashionably dressed women and a harassed-looking man entered the shop and the conversation ended.
Copyright © 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Laura Lyle
