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Her eyes widened in excitement, and she flipped it over to inspect the price tag. “Oh.”
“It takes me a couple of hours to make and sand each one, plus the cost of materials.”
“Oh, I know. Arts and crafts items never make back the effort and time put into them. It’s such a shame. I think you’d sell more if you priced these cheaper.” She set the piece down and offered me a smile.
I wanted to glare, but instead, I twisted my grin from genuine to plastered. “I know, it’s so hard. We still have bills to pay, and kids to feed, and if I priced them any lower, I’d be giving them away.”
Her expression morphed into a curious one. Was she expecting me to actually give it to her for free?
“You know what, I should probably raise the price on that one, since it’s my last one. This morning I started with a dozen, and they sold out fast. Maybe I’m actually underpricing them?”
That knocked the wind out of her sails, and she stared blankly.
I challenged her, leaning forward, ready to pounce should she have another backhanded comment about the arts and craft industry. If we charged minimum wage for our time, plus the cost of materials, every piece would be at least double, and most likely, I wouldn’t sell out. Pricing them the way I did, at least afforded me a marginal income.
“Well, good luck to you.” Without accepting my test, she walked away.
Libby’s head tilted back in full laughter. “There’s one in every crowd, isn’t there?”
I shook my head, feeling another wavy strand free itself from its hold. Damn hot, humid weather, and crookedly curly hair.
“So, you got fired from your job? Because you were sick?” Interestingly, Libby jumped right back into the conversation we’d had a few minutes ago. I’d hoped she’d forgotten.
How she was able to pick up like there hadn’t been a break was staggering. I’d often forget where I set my tools, let alone where exactly in a conversation I was.
“Uh, right. Yeah, I lost my job.” Seeing how the crowds in my area were starting to thin out, I sat back to carve. “I was scrambling to pay rent, as I lived paycheck to shitty paycheck, and was coming up empty. I contacted the restaurant where I got the food poisoning and asked if there was a way to compensate me. I didn’t want millions, just what I’d lost in wages, we’re talking maybe a couple hundred bucks. Enough to make up the shortfall in my rent.”
“And he didn’t?” She popped out her hip and firmly placed her hand on it.
“Not only did he not offer me athing,he actually laughed at me and told me I was out to lunch because I had zero proof I got sick at his restaurant.” I shook my head, and disgust sprang a leak in my words. “As I explained how I was pregnant and had lost my job because I’d been in the hospital, he hung up on me.”
“He what?”
“Yeah, customer service wasn’t his strong suit.” I dug a little harder and deeper into my block of wood, making the foot come alive.
“So you lost your job, pregnant I may add, and he wouldn’t even cover a little bit in rent? Like nothing? He couldn’t even give you something like a free meal?”
I shook my head.
“Fucking jerk.”
A mother walking by covered her child’s ears and shot daggers at Libby, who shrugged.
I laughed. My daughter, who was about that age, likely knew the proper usage of the f-word, all in part to Libby’s astonishing use of it. It’s not like my kid was never going to hear it, just as long as she didn’t use the grown-up word. I refused to shelter her too much. She had bigger issues to deal with than profanity.
“After that, I vowed I would never eat in his establishment.” Among other things.
“And?”
“Oh, I’ve kept my word.” And tried to make sure others didn’t eat there either. But that wasn’t as successful as I’d dreamed, since there was always a long wait for seats on the weekends and the small-town people were often commenting on the place.
“Good for you.” Libby nodded in approval. “So, I take it, you’re not going to commission a piece for him.”
“Absolutely not. He can go to hell.”
Libby shifted on her feet; she refused to stand still. She tapped her finger against her lips. “But your custom pieces are your big-ticket items, right?”
“Yeah.” I narrowed my eyes in her direction. What was she thinking?
