Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [24]
“We’d better get busy.” Maureen went into the back room to do setup. Used her finger to count chairs around the table. “Only eight. Bring a couple more chairs from the closet, will you?” She began cleaning up leftover beads and wire from the night before, wanting the room to look neat for this morning’s party.
“Had a dental appointment yesterday to get my teeth cleaned,” Jennifer shouted from the other room. “This morning my mouth is so sore.”
Maureen ignored her. She wasn’t in the mood for chitchat.
“You know why?”
Maureen jumped in surprise, for Jennifer was now right behind her.
“Because I got one of those Christian hygienists with serious repressed anger issues.”
Maureen stopped working long enough to give Jennifer a dramatic frown.
“So what do we do? We put a dangerously sharp metal instrument in her hands—purportedly to clean the tartar off teeth—and essentially give her permission to—”
“Jennifer.”
“Bet she’s sexually repressed too.”
“That’s quite—”
The jingle of the bell over the door and laughing, excited voices interrupted them. Maureen immediately clicked into working mode. “I’m going to welcome them. Give them the instructions. You finish getting everything set up in here, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and went to greet the party of women.
They were an amiable group, ten neighbors from a nearby subdivision on a creative break from their weekly bunco game. Maureen gave them the usual tour of the shop, pointing out the various types of beads, patterns they could follow, the jewelry possibilities of necklaces, earrings, bracelets, or other options like bookmarks and key chains. Excited to start, the women weren’t especially attentive, but that was to be expected. Maureen knew they’d have more questions once they were actually making their projects; she’d be available and willing to help however she could.
Discovering she had a knack for putting together pretty jewelry came as a surprise to Maureen. Women always noticed when she wore one of her own creations, exclaiming over its uniqueness and coordinated colors. Working with the beads and the constant possibility of new designs fueled Maureen’s desire to be at the shop regularly. What she hadn’t accounted for was the tedium of the job itself: keeping the shop clean, including the monotony of putting hundreds of beads into the correct storage areas. Dealing with customers with limited or no talent at creating something remotely pretty or wearable. Dealing with … Jennifer.
Most of the women were seated around the table, quietly working when one of them snickered. “Some juicy news. Many of you know Ed Esteban, don’t you?”
Maureen immediately stiffened and held her breath. She could feel her face flushing, so she busied herself with a project, looking down.
“I heard. Appears Ed’s found himself … well, a newer model, shall we say?”
Titters of laughter followed. Maureen’s flush deepened, her heart noticeably pounding in her chest.
“Divorcing?”
“In the works, I hear. Wonder if he’ll marry this woman and have four more kids?”
“He’s leaving her with four kids? The louse.”
“Oh, yeah. Four little Estebans—all with names beginning with an E, after Ed and Emilie. Dedicated father. Upstanding church member and leader.” The speaker looked up, and Maureen caught a spark of delight in her eyes. Maureen noticed Jennifer was now hanging on every word too. “Only this time he’s backed up the alphabet by one letter. Any more kiddos gotta have names beginning with a D this time around.”
Laughter erupted, with several exclamations of “Oh, Jan. You’re terrible.”
Maureen had been threading beads onto a wire, but her movements were so unsteady that, after three unsuccessful tries at threading a single turquoise bead, she was intensely aware of those near her, worried they might notice. She put the bead and thread down and rising from her stool, leaned over to whisper in Jennifer’s ear, “I’m not feeling well. Think you can handle this?” Without giving Jennifer a chance to respond,