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Seller of Soles
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Chapter 9:- Irritation
November locked the doors that night with mixed feelings. On one hand, Clickitty Clack was as popular as ever and they were making record sales. On the other hand, twice that day November had nearly lost her temper with her best friend.
Rose had not shown up until two that afternoon and arrived in a terrible mood. She had snapped twice at Gayle and once at Kimberly, ignored and offended three customers, and broke two expensive displays. November had sent Kimberly home at three to get ready for her party. Then Gayle went home a half an hour later, angry and offended. With no one else to snap at, Rose had tried to pick a fight with November.
None of this really mattered, November thought. Everyone had bad days. She wouldn't have let Rose get under her skin if it hadn't been for the men.
First a large man in a black overcoat walked in and November recognized him immediately.
“Good morning,” she smiled at him. “Mr. Stuart, isn't it? You bought the yellow Mortiers last month. Your wife must be a collector.”
Mr. Stuart frowned, but nodded. “Yes, she is. She sent me out tonight to get a pair of red heels. Preferably platforms.”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a single pair of Mortiers left. We sold our last pair just half an hour ago.”
“Red Mortier heels,” the man insisted. “I must have them."
"I'm sorry, but they're gone," November repeated. After a moment she frowned. "You know, I never know what we're going to have until I open the box. How did you know about the red heels? Were they a special order?"
Mr. Stuart took a deep, calming breath. "No, but I keep track of Mortier's designs and I knew they were coming out soon. Didn’t you get any?”
“We did,” November admitted, “but they’re gone. As a collector, you must know how fast we sell out. I am sorry. We do have this pair of red platform Louboutins and they are very popular as well. I think we sold three pairs just today.”
“Who did you sell the Mortiers to?” Mr. Stuart asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I can’t tell you that, sir,” November said.
“I see,” Mr. Stuart turned to Rose. “Maybe you can help me, since this lady obviously doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
November flushed angrily and stalked back to her office. Rose could deal with this one.
As she gulped down a large cup of coffee, November heard raised voices and was grateful for Rose's willingness to tackle the difficult customers.
When the man had gone, November poked her head out and was glad to see that the shop was empty--now they might have a chance to talk about what was bothering Rose.
“What a creep,” she said, her blue Prada heels clicking as she emerged from her office. “I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. Rude customers are the worst.”
“Who did you sell those red shoes to, Novie?” Rose demanded. “I don’t remember seeing them when I got in. Who got them?”
“Why does it matter?” November asked, annoyed by Rose’s tone. “They weren’t a special order. They weren't even on hold. First come, first serve. You know that.”
“I can’t believe you sold them,” Rose said, as though she hadn't heard a word. “I’ll do a printout and see if I can find a credit card receipt.”
“What is wrong with you?” November stared at her friend. “Why should it matter who bought them?”
“Mr. Stuart was so angry. I think we may have lost another customer over this. Novie, if you remember anything about the person who bought the shoes…”
November turned away to straighten a display. She had intended to tell her all about Kimberly’s birthday choice, thinking it a sweet story, but right now she was too annoyed with her. In this mood, Rose might throw a fit and insist Kimberly return them today. She might even storm Kimberly's party and yank them off the birthday-girl's feet.
“I can’t even remember if it was a man or a woman,” November lied. “And even if I did, what would you want me to do about it? Call them and order them to return the shoes so I can sell them to someone else? Let it go, Rose.”
Copyright © 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Laura Lyle
November locked the doors that night with mixed feelings. On one hand, Clickitty Clack was as popular as ever and they were making record sales. On the other hand, twice that day November had nearly lost her temper with her best friend.
Rose had not shown up until two that afternoon and arrived in a terrible mood. She had snapped twice at Gayle and once at Kimberly, ignored and offended three customers, and broke two expensive displays. November had sent Kimberly home at three to get ready for her party. Then Gayle went home a half an hour later, angry and offended. With no one else to snap at, Rose had tried to pick a fight with November.
None of this really mattered, November thought. Everyone had bad days. She wouldn't have let Rose get under her skin if it hadn't been for the men.
First a large man in a black overcoat walked in and November recognized him immediately.
“Good morning,” she smiled at him. “Mr. Stuart, isn't it? You bought the yellow Mortiers last month. Your wife must be a collector.”
Mr. Stuart frowned, but nodded. “Yes, she is. She sent me out tonight to get a pair of red heels. Preferably platforms.”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a single pair of Mortiers left. We sold our last pair just half an hour ago.”
“Red Mortier heels,” the man insisted. “I must have them."
"I'm sorry, but they're gone," November repeated. After a moment she frowned. "You know, I never know what we're going to have until I open the box. How did you know about the red heels? Were they a special order?"
Mr. Stuart took a deep, calming breath. "No, but I keep track of Mortier's designs and I knew they were coming out soon. Didn’t you get any?”
“We did,” November admitted, “but they’re gone. As a collector, you must know how fast we sell out. I am sorry. We do have this pair of red platform Louboutins and they are very popular as well. I think we sold three pairs just today.”
“Who did you sell the Mortiers to?” Mr. Stuart asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I can’t tell you that, sir,” November said.
“I see,” Mr. Stuart turned to Rose. “Maybe you can help me, since this lady obviously doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
November flushed angrily and stalked back to her office. Rose could deal with this one.
As she gulped down a large cup of coffee, November heard raised voices and was grateful for Rose's willingness to tackle the difficult customers.
When the man had gone, November poked her head out and was glad to see that the shop was empty--now they might have a chance to talk about what was bothering Rose.
“What a creep,” she said, her blue Prada heels clicking as she emerged from her office. “I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. Rude customers are the worst.”
“Who did you sell those red shoes to, Novie?” Rose demanded. “I don’t remember seeing them when I got in. Who got them?”
“Why does it matter?” November asked, annoyed by Rose’s tone. “They weren’t a special order. They weren't even on hold. First come, first serve. You know that.”
“I can’t believe you sold them,” Rose said, as though she hadn't heard a word. “I’ll do a printout and see if I can find a credit card receipt.”
“What is wrong with you?” November stared at her friend. “Why should it matter who bought them?”
“Mr. Stuart was so angry. I think we may have lost another customer over this. Novie, if you remember anything about the person who bought the shoes…”
November turned away to straighten a display. She had intended to tell her all about Kimberly’s birthday choice, thinking it a sweet story, but right now she was too annoyed with her. In this mood, Rose might throw a fit and insist Kimberly return them today. She might even storm Kimberly's party and yank them off the birthday-girl's feet.
“I can’t even remember if it was a man or a woman,” November lied. “And even if I did, what would you want me to do about it? Call them and order them to return the shoes so I can sell them to someone else? Let it go, Rose.”
The next problem walked into the shop and introduced himself as Jacob Jones.
November glanced at his shoes then looked again, and got a shock. She didn't recognize his shoes. She could take a guess at the size, and they were obviously hand-stitched calfskin, but nothing else registered in November's brain.
She frowned. An expensive pair of shoes she didn't recognize? It was like suddenly losing the ability to read.
November pulled herself together and focused on the man's face.
His shoes might have been mysterious, but Jacob himself was open and friendly. He was a charming man of sixty with bright gray eyes and a full head of white hair. He told November that he was an old friend of Joe Holister's. Upon hearing about Joe's theory of his wife's death, he had offered his services as a private investigator.
"I'm glad you came in today," November said, shaking his hand. "I meant to call Mr. Holister today--he wanted to see the next shipment of Mortiers, but now that you're here I won't have to. I'm afraid I've sold out already, but I promise you can get a look at the next shipment before anyone else does. I am sorry, but I didn't think they would sell quite so fast. Anyway, doesn't it seem strange that Mrs. Holister would be killed for a pair of shoes? It just doesn't make sense."
"I would normally agree with you, but if there's one thing you can count on, Ms. Cole," Jacob said, "it's Joe Holister's instincts. It's too bad about the shoes, but don't worry--I'll pop in from time to time and have a look around."
November told Jacob he was welcome any time. Rose told Jacob he was welcome as long as he didn’t bother anyone.
As the shop was closing, Rose had caught Jacob asking a customer if they had ever bought Mortiers from Clickitty Clack and ordered him out of the shop. He had protested, but Rose lost patience and physically escorted him through the door.
When the last customer was gone, November pulled Rose aside.
“You can’t do that, Rosie,” she said. “Jones could sue you for assault.”
“No, he couldn't,” Rose assured her. "We have the right to refuse service to anyone. And he was upsetting people."
“You mean he's upsetting you! Look, if word gets around that my employees are throwing customers out of the shop, I'll never sell another pair of shoes.”
"So, I'm just an employee now?" Rose said. "I thought we were friends."
"Well, you're not being a good friend either!"
“Fine,” Rose looked close to tears. “Are you going to fire me?”
“Of course not,” November said, “but you have to watch your temper. Really, what's gotten into you today?”
Rose had grabbed her bag and walked out the door without another word, leaving November to lock up alone. Just as well, November thought. But she spent the entire drive home wishing neither man had come and wondering why they should have made Rose so upset.
Copyright © 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Laura Lyle
