Just Around the Corner

Today it's dry outside. I suppose the rain has decided to take a vacation and stay somewhere new for a day, which is perfectly fine with me. The only problem is that the sun must've gone with the rain, because it isn't making an appearance either.

"Customer!" Deirdre calls out just as the bell rings and the shop door opens. A short girl with bright orange hair walks in and smiles as she looks around the shop.

"Can I help you find anything today, Miss?" I ask as I fold a light pink cashmere sweater.

"Just browsing," she says, although she moves straight towards the vintage lamps.

"Okay, well let me know if you need anything." I set the sweater next to the others on the yellow shelf.

The girl nods a "thank you", and continues to examine a particular orange lamp that matches her hair.

In these situations where a customer says they aren't looking for anything in particular but actually are, Deirdre says to just leave him or her alone unless they ask for help.

Deirdre has tips for every type of customer, and she's only 24. Most of her shop-owning knowledge comes from her mother, who opened 'Opal's Everything Boutique' in the late sixties. Ever since then, it's become our small town's pride and joy, bringing in customers from all over the state.

Here at Opal's, we sell not only vintage clothing from the 1940's-60's, but also books, furniture, and records. Deirdre makes sure she only gets the best quality vintage items, so she's often out of town at auctions and upper scale flea markets.

Today Deirdre's here though, giddily putting up decorations for the upcoming Christmas season.

"Excuse me," the redhead walks over to me timidly.

"Yes?" I stop what I'm doing and turn to look the customer directly in the eyes as I smile. Another one of Deirdre's, or Opal's, tricks.

The girl smiles back as she says,"I was curious about how much that lamp over there costs? The tall, orange one? There aren't any tags on it."

"Hm," I say as I walk over to inspect the light.

"Oh, I took the tag off that one because I wanted to change the price. I guess I forgot to add a new one! Sorry about that," Deirdre apologizes then furrows her eyebrows. "If I could just remember how much I was going to charge for it..."

The redhead laughs as she watches Deirdre.

"Tell you what, I'm pretty sure it was $40, but because of the inconvenience I'll only charge you $30." Deirdre flashes her white teeth, then brings the lamp over to the cash register as she asks the customer, "Is that all right with you?"

"Perfectly all right! Thank you very much!"

Another Tuesday, another lamp sale. What people love so much about 60's lamps, I will never know.

As the girl leaves, Deirdre tells her to have a wonderful Christmas, and she is told the same by the happy customer.

"And that is how you make a lamp sale!"

I laugh at how Deirdre still gets so excited about one sale, even though she's been working at Opal's ever since she was my age, seventeen.

"You know, while traveling the country looking for good deals is really fun, sometimes I miss just working in the shop, watching customers smile as they buy something that they'll treasure for the rest of their lives. It just makes me happy to see them happy."

Even though I'm not that invested in making customers happy, I nod in agreement because I can see what she means. Deirdre feeds off of others' joy, and I really admire her for that. I just don't know if it's the same for me to be truly happy.

As I sort through a bunch of delicate bead bracelets, I notice Deirdre staring out the shop window.

"What's up?" I ask and follow her gaze. I can't see anything from where I'm standing, so I move next to her to get the same perspective.

A man with a striped sweater is sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, his face in his hands.

"He's too well-dressed to be homeless," Deirdre's eyes don't stray from the stranger outside in the cold, "And he isn't coming into the shop."

"How about you go talk to him and tell him to get off your curb before you call the cops," I tease.

"Should I?" Deirdre anxiously runs her left hand over her dark brown hair.

"No, I was joking! Gosh, Deirdre, just invite him inside."

"I can't do that."

I roll my eyes. "Why not?"

"Because he's cute and I think he's crying and I know my big mouth will say something either awkward, or offensive. Please don't make me embarrass myself!" Deirdre whines like a ten-year-old.

I give her a look to show her how pathetic she's being, and then I stomp out the shop door.

When the bell rings as I exit the boutique, the man looks up at me from the sidewalk. Deirdre was right, he is crying. The red eyes give it away.

"Ahem. Hi, sir. Would you like to come inside? It's freezing out here and my manager thought you might like to try some peppermint hot chocolate that just arrived from Paris," I slightly glance back at Deirdre inside the shop, hoping she'll be okay with sharing her favorite hot drink.

"That sounds delicious...but I don't have any money. I'm sorry," the man replies as he watches Deirdre in the window.

"Oh, that's okay. It's on the house! Come on." I motion towards the door.

The stranger nods gratefully and follows me inside.

"Thank you so much, you're very kind," he says to Deirdre, who is uselessly fumbling around with some broaches in a tin box.

"Your welcome!" Deirdre smiles nervously at the man, then turns to me and whispers,"What is he thanking me for?"

I pull her to the back of the shop and explain as the man browses about the shop.

"That hot chocolate is expensive, Madison! I can't just go around giving it to perfect strangers!"

"You're right, he is perfect. Too bad he's too old for me," I sigh dramatically and look up at Deirdre who can't help but smile at me.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Whatever, Deirdre. There's a really attractive guy in your shop who really wants a warm cup of hot chocolate and you know you really want to give it to him, so stop talking and start making the dang thing!" I grab the hot cocoa mix from the back shelf and stuff it into her hands.

Deirdre sighs and then whispers,"You may have won this time, but the next time a cute boy your age comes in, I'm having my revenge!"

I snort at her remark. What boys my age would want to come into a small vintage boutique? Not any that I know of.