Take the Trophy and Run Page 8

  She’d had a great day, the best she’d had in a long time.

  If only she could do this every day, without the balloon or promise of rain. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about her ability to survive.

  She’d almost finished the bank deposit when the phone rang.

  “I hear your store was packed all day. Did the Gnome Gnapper come? Did you get another note?”

  For the first time all day, Amber broke out into a spontaneous smile. “Hello, Stan. It’s good to hear from you. I’m fine, how are you?”

  If she’d ever heard a pregnant pause, this was one of them.

  “Hi,” he finally muttered, his voice an octave lower than usual. “How are you?” Another silence hung on the line, silent except for a frustrated sigh. “Are you going to leave me in suspense?”

  “Would I do that to you?”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear or understand, which was probably not a bad thing. She told him all about her day, and while she talked, she absently twisted a scrap piece of leftover pink wire into a flamingo. “So even though we didn’t get any further on finding Gnorman or the trophy, I had a great day. What about you?”

  While Stan rambled on about another frustrating misadventure with Aunt Edna and her vintage Caddy, Amber made the figure of another flamingo. After she hung up with Stan, rather than going home or finishing her bank deposit, she glued on beads for eyes, added a few feathers for wings, and attached legs, making them into rather cute indoor plant ornaments. To add a dash of color to her display, she stuck them into one of the fake plants in her window, then finished the deposit and closed the store.

  After she tested the door to be sure it was locked, she stood still and stared at the balloon, still stuck to the outside of the door. It hadn’t brought the desired result, but the business it had brought was fantastic. Today she’d hopefully made a lot of new customers, which encouraged her to try new products that she’d never carried. It was time to sink or swim.

  Tomorrow was another day.

  Amber sat at her counter watching the door. Unlike yesterday, only a few people came in, none of them the Gnome Gnapper. Even though it was unrealistic to expect that the balloon on the door would bring in the same surprise results two days in a row, especially since today wasn’t raining either, she couldn’t help but feel discouraged. She’d even put a brand new balloon on the door because the other one had become somewhat deflated overnight.

  In an effort to keep herself from sinking into a pit of disappointment, she kept her hands and mind occupied by making more wire flamingos since she couldn’t leave the store unattended to go to her studio in the back of the building. Rather than making flamingoes out of scraps, she needed to go to her studio to re-create the elaborate projects sold in yesterday’s rush.

  By lunchtime she’d made over a dozen of the little flamingos. While very cute, they were a questionable use of her materials since she no longer used scraps, but instead used her regular stock.

  Fortunately, before she started another one, the bell above the door jingled.

  Caroline, who owned the B&B with her daughter, and whose roses were a close second to Libby’s, walked in the door grinning from ear to ear. “I heard about your non-rainy day sale yesterday. I’m so sorry I missed it. Sherry showed me the ceramic rose she bought, and I just have to have one. Where are they?”

  “The last one I have is in the window display. I’ll get it for you.” Amber searched for the base to the glue gun so she could put it down without dripping hot glue onto the counter.

  “Never mind,” Caroline said, turning. “I can get it myself. I hope you’ll give it to me for the same price as Sherry’s.”

  “Of course.”

  Caroline carefully picked through the other ceramic flowers, then plucked out the rose. Before she left the window, she picked up one of the little flamingos. “I have to have one of these too. They’re so cute. There’s no price tag. How much is it?”

  Amber sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. While she always hoped to sell everything she made, she hadn’t yet thought about the flamingos. She’d made them more out of frustration than with a profit in mind. The first few she’d made out of scraps, but even when she started using her stock materials, they were inexpensive to make, the bulk of them being constructed from wire that she bought by the spool.

  She studied the mess on her table. She’d made about fifteen of them in one morning, without rushing, so her labor costs were also minimal. The ornaments she made every year for the First Bud celebration were more elaborate, composed mostly of ceramic materials, and she had to design molds to make the pieces and hand-paint them. No one in the club really knew how much work went into that yearly project, but it was always worth it when she did the bank deposit. For the flamingo, she’d twisted wire and added spare parts that were commercially available.

  Caroline laid the rose and the flamingo on the only clear space on the counter. “I see you’re gearing up for a promotion. I’m so excited to get the first little flamingo. Would you give me a promotional price on it, if I promise to tell the garden club how cute they are?”

  If she sold them for the same price as the more difficult ornaments for the garden club, Amber would feel guilty. “I was thinking that I could put them on sale for—”

  The electronic rendition of an old show tune blared from Caroline’s purse. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she pulled out her cell phone and hit a few buttons. Her brows knotted as she read a message. “I have to go. My daughter is having a hard time with a customer. If the flamingo costs more, put it on my tab.”

  Before Amber could calculate the cost of her labor for Caroline, in addition to the approximate cost of two dollars for materials, the money was on the counter, and Caroline was out the door and running down the sidewalk.

  Amber couldn’t help but smile at her good fortune as she finished the flamingo she’d started. But while she’d sold the first one, and even though they were cute, she didn’t want to have too many on hand in case they didn’t sell. She’d already made more than most of the new items she put out for a trial run.

  Rather than make more, she unplugged her glue gun and had almost picked up all the loose feathers when the phone rang.

  “Amber? It’s me, Caroline. I hope I haven’t ruined your plans for the flamingos, but my customer here that I had to run back for is a florist. I gave her the flamingo to apologize for the mix-up, so I hope you’ll let me have another one for the same price.”

  “Of course I will,” Amber said, the guilt at asking so much poking at her.

  “But that’s not all. I’m so sorry to take advantage of you, so you tell me if you can’t do this. She loved the flamingo so much that she wants to buy some for her shop. I told her you’d probably honor the price you gave me, but if she ordered more, you might go for less. She was already interested, but now she’s really interested. This is a custom design, right?”

  “Yes, it is.” Dollar signs floated through Amber’s head. The price was already low, but they didn’t take too long to make. “How many does she want?” She looked down at the drawer. If she could sell all that she’d made, nothing would be wasted after all.

  “She said she’d start with a hundred. Is that okay?”

  Amber was glad she was already sitting down. If she could make five in an hour, she’d be okay. “Uh . . . sure . . . I think I can go down a little bit.”

  “She also wants to see your catalog because every month she’d like to feature a different figure. If you can offer them at the same price. She’s got to know for her budget.” Caroline’s voice lowered and a rustling noise echoed over the phone. “I don’t know if you have a catalog,” Caroline whispered. “Do you?”

  “No, not really,” Amber choked out. “But I can get a color printout of twelve unique designs.” Once she figured out what else
she could make. Pigs. They were one color. Squirrels were also cute animals and one color. Cows could still be considered trendy, but they were two colors, so she couldn’t use that. Hippos were one color.

  The phone rustled again, and Caroline’s voice became normal as she talked to her customer, who still didn’t have a name. “Amber says she doesn’t have a formal catalog, but she can get her graphics people to get you a special printout of her unique designs. She says she can go down in price if you order at least one hundred. Is that okay? We should also discuss shipping.”

  Graphics people? She didn’t have a graphics person, never mind people. Amber’s heart pounded while the conversation on the other end of the phone continued.

  Elephants. She could make elephants, but not back-to-back with hippos, because those would be the same color. Unless she made the elephants pink. Then she could use the same wire as the flamingos.

  The phone rustled again. “She’s going to come down right now to give you her deposit. Is that okay?”

  Amber ran one hand down her faded T-shirt, then tried to pick a glue splotch off her jeans. She wasn’t dressed for a business presentation. But she couldn’t close the store to rush home and change. She’d left her car at home to save gas. “I guess so. Sure.”

  Her hand shook as she hung up the phone. She straightened and jumped to see Sherry and Pamela standing in front of her.

  Amber pushed her hair off her face, and stood. “Sorry, ladies. I didn’t hear the bell when you came in.”

  Sherry smiled. “That’s okay. You were concentrating on that phone call. Is everything okay?”

  Amber didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head. “Yes. I just got a big corporate order for my new plant-pot flamingos. The woman is on the way to make a deposit.” She held up one of the flamingos, both proud of her design and feeling caught in a whirlwind from which there was no return.

  “He’s adorable!” As Pamela took it from Amber and lifted it, the light from a sunbeam streamed through the window and caught the beads from its eyes, casting a sparkly rainbow on the wall. “I want one of these.”

  “Certainly.”

  “I want one, too,” Sherry said, then she sighed when Amber removed one from the drawer and handed it to her. “Did you say these were a new design?”

  “Yes. I’ve only made a few so far.”

  Pamela’s eyebrows quirked. “You mean you’ve never sold these before?”

  “That’s right. I sold the first one to Caroline a few hours ago.”

  The two ladies nodded at each other, then stepped away for a short, whispered conversation, while poking at the flamingos and ruffling the feathered wings.

  Amber’s stomach churned. If Pamela and Sherry saw weakness in her design or construction, she didn’t want to think that her new customer would do the same and change her mind and cancel the order before it was made.

  After Pamela and Sherry returned to the counter, they exchanged a glance, letting Amber know there was some private message they’d probably never share with her.

  Pamela spoke up first. “The garden club wants a special memento for everyone who attends the banquet party next month. You know, like when you go to a wedding and you get a small plastic champagne glass with a mint in it and a ribbon tied to it with a tag of the bride and groom’s name. If you haven’t sold any of these already except to Caroline, that means they’re hot on the market, and they are a unique new item. We’ll just say that Caroline is thrifty, and if Caroline bought one, that means the price is right.” Pamela turned to Sherry, and she got a nod of agreement. “If you’ll give us the same price you gave Caroline, we want to order one for everyone who attends the banquet.”

  Amber gulped. She’d been to all the banquets. They weren’t small, and they were very exclusive. “How many is that?”

  “Probably 250. But only if you give us the same price you gave to Caroline. Of course, since Sylvia is the treasurer she’d have to approve it, but we’ve already got money set aside for this much in our budget, so there won’t be any problem. It would just be a technicality.”

  The bell above the door jingled. Amber had never seen the woman before and her stomach did a nervous flip.

  “I’m Janice Sinclair. Which one of you is Amber Weathersby?”

  Pamela and Sherry stepped back and pointed to Amber. Amber gulped, forced herself to smile, and held out one hand, hoping it wasn’t shaking as much as her insides.

  Janice loved the flamingos as much as Pamela and Sherry. What she didn’t expect was for them to team up on her, which doubled their bargaining power. Amber’s heart pounded while she gathered her strength and took a chance on insisting that her price was fixed, and that was the reason she could commit to giving both groups an exclusive on the flamingo. She wouldn’t sell a single flamingo in her store for a year from the contract date and that sealed both deals.

  She tried to make it look like she made this kind of negotiation all the time when she didn’t know how no one heard her knees knocking under the table. After she signed the agreements for the flamingos, she made another tentative contract with Janice for eleven more exclusive animal plant-pot ornament designs for the following year, with the same terms and conditions. Amber honestly told Janice that she hadn’t designed any of them yet, but assured her that she would soon produce a brochure showing the drafts for her approval.

  By the time the three ladies left, Amber was exhausted and her head was spinning.

  She’d just signed the biggest contract since she opened her store, and even more important, she’d collected a sizeable deposit. The only thing left to do was find a graphic artist to take pictures and make the promised brochure.

  She didn’t know anyone who could do something like that on short notice and make it look professional. But she knew who would.

  She took a minute to say a short but heartfelt prayer of thanks for the much-needed income, then she called Stan.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stan arrived at Amber’s store after it should have been closed, but the door opened. He pulled the balloon off the handle and went inside, flicking the lock behind him before he walked to the counter covered with piles of beads, pink feathers, and a jumble of cut pink wire.

  “Amber? Where are you?” he called out toward the open door to her studio.

  “I’ll be right there. I need more glue.”

  He smiled. She’d told him about the windfall of two big orders, which happened indirectly because of the balloon he’d stuck to the door.

  Best investment he’d ever made.

  He held up the shrunken balloon as she appeared in the doorway. “It’s a little deflated, but I think it served its purpose.”

  “Not really,” Amber said as she plunked a box of glue sticks on the counter and inserted a new one into her glue gun. “Our purpose was to attract the Gnome Gnapper, and that didn’t happen. I’ve got to find that trophy. After this big order for the next banquet, I’m more indebted to the garden club than ever. I’ve got to find it. What can we do?”

  His inner balloon deflated, just like the one that had been outside. “I don’t know. Since the balloon thing didn’t work out, the note said not to be a party pooper. That has to be the clue. I guess that means we have to go to the banquet together.”

  Amber sighed. “We go to the banquet together every year. That can’t be it. Besides, the banquet is a month away. Which is a good thing. I’ve got the flamingos down to ten minutes each, so it will take me forty hours to make all their flamingos, and that’s if I don’t eat or sleep or go to the bathroom.”

  He didn’t want to comment on that last part. “That’s not unreasonable. A normal workweek is forty hours. If you take time off for, uh, breaks and stuff, you’ll have them done in a week and one day. Easy.”

  “Not including all the other things I do in a week to kee
p my business running smoothly. Or assist any customers who come in the door and need help, or just want to chat.”

  “Good point.” He ran his fingers through his hair. That happened to him all the time. Most of the time he enjoyed chatting with his customers to maintain good client relationships. However, the more he chatted, the less work got done. His mind raced to recall the note. “One thing I do remember is that in the note, balloons was plural. Maybe that’s what we’re doing wrong. We need more than one.”

  In answer to his unasked question, Amber pulled the note out of the drawer. “Here’s what it says. Bring out the balloons. Should I be decorating my whole place with balloons?”

  “I don’t think so. It also said not to be a party pooper. Where is there going to be a party, with balloons?”

  “Nowhere that I know. But . . .” Her eyes lit up and she smiled up at him.

  Something in Stan’s gut went AWOL. Like when he’d gone up on the Ferris wheel with Amber, except this time nothing was moving. He couldn’t speak.

  “I can make my own party to celebrate the flamingos. I can show them off, but not sell any of them. It can be a promotion for the garden club’s banquet. Then more people will buy tickets just to get one, since they’ll be a special item where that’s the only place you can get them except from that florist. But no one in the garden club would ever order flowers from a florist. They’d grow their own.”

  Stan snickered. “I don’t think the garden club needs your help getting people to buy tickets for the big banquet.”

  She bowed her head, and the brightness disappeared from her face. “Probably not, but I need to get their loyalty.” She gulped. “I need them to shop in my store. The flamingos help, but it’s a one-time deal.”

  “Are you worried that everyone is going to go to that new store that opened up across town a few months ago, now that the owner also joined the garden club?”

  Amber’s eyes opened wide, and she gasped. “How did you know about that?”