Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [90]
“Where do you want to go now?” Mary asked brightly. “Oh, listen—don’t you just love ‘Jingle Bells’?”
Cheryl looked around. “First of all, I want to get my bearings. Where are the exits? I can’t see a single one. Which store are we going to next?”
“Let’s see. I have a credit card for Stedmans, and they’re on this level, and so is Simmons Leather Shop. I want to get a wallet for my hairdresser and a camera for Patty. You know, one of those digital things.”
“I’m not moving till I find out where the nearest exit is,” Cheryl said, grabbing hold of the railing leading to the lower level.
“Oh, for God’s sake! What do you think is going to happen? Tell you what: if you buy me two presents, I’ll get you a set of worry beads.”
“Mary!”
“It’s over there, next to the community room. All you do is go down the hall by the snack bar. That’s an exit.”
“Okay, we’ll go to Simmons first, then Stedmans. Maybe I’ll look for a key holder for the mailman while you’re looking for a wallet. What do you think a leather key holder will cost?”
“Who cares? We aren’t using money, remember?”
“I forgot,” Cheryl said agreeably.
Simmons Leather Shop was crowded with shoppers. Mary looked through the selection of leather wallets and finally found one that looked right. “What do you think?” she asked, holding the wallet up for Cheryl’s inspection.
“It looks okay to me, but what do I know? I don’t use a wallet.”
Mary rolled her eyes and walked over to a very pregnant black woman who was waiting at the checkout counter. “Excuse me, but could you give me your opinion about this wallet? I’m considering buying it for my hairdresser. Do you think it’s too plain?”
The woman smiled and took the wallet from Mary’s hand. “Plain? No, not at all. I think it’s elegant. I’m sure your hairdresser will be delighted with it.”
Mary let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I couldn’t decide, and my friend here is no help at all. She doesn’t use a wallet. She just throws her money into her purse.”
“Ah, Mrs. Summers,” the sales clerk broke in,
“I have your briefcase right here, all wrapped up and ready to go. Will that be cash or charge?”
After paying for the wallet, Mary and Cheryl headed for Stedmans. At the front of the store there was a digital camera display, inexpensive models that were meant for fun, not serious photography. Each was attached to the display by a thin but strong flexible metal link that was long enough to let interested customers pick up a camera and test it.
“Oh, look, Cheryl,” Mary cried, “the sign says you can take a picture to try the camera. And you get a print right away. Works for me. Back off into the mall a little and I’ll take your picture.”
Cheryl obliged.
Out of the corner of her eye Mary saw Santa Claus. Who wanted a picture of Cheryl, anyway? She turned the viewfinder toward Santa Claus and pressed the button. Cheryl was going to have a fit. Maybe if the salesman wasn’t watching, she could snap two pictures. Cheryl was hell on wheels when she got mad.
Snap. That was all there was to it. The metal links that kept customers from walking off with the cameras were also connected to a computerized photo printer that was part of the display. In less than a minute the machine spat out a finished print. Snap. Out came another. The photos rested in the tray as Mary turned to the clerk, who’d coughed to get her attention.
“Only one free print per customer, ma’am,” the sales clerk said.
Mary set the camera back on the display and gave him her innocent look. “But there are two of us,” she pointed out. “And I want to buy two cameras.” She grinned at the clerk. “Put them on my credit card, please.”
“I know you didn’t take two pictures of me,” .Cheryl complained. “So who—”
“Santa Claus, who else?”
“Oh,” Cheryl said, slightly mollified as she put her credit card into her purse. “Did we get a good buy?”
“Absolutely. Would I steer you wrong?” She moved to the printer tray and took out the two free pictures. “I must have pressed the wrong button. There’s something wrong with my Santa Claus picture. Look, it