Needful Things - Stephen King [42]
"Very lovely," Mr. Gaunt agreed warmly. "And I can't tell you can't even begin to express how happy it makes me to know it will have a good home, a place where someone will do more than dust it on Wednesday afternoons and then, after years of that, break it in a careless moment and sweep the pieces up and then drop them into the trash without a second thought."
"I'd never do that!" Nettle cried.
"I know you wouldn't," Mr. Gaunt said. "It's one of your charms, Netitia."
Nettle looked at him, amazed. "How did you know my name?"
"I have a flair for them. I never forget a name or a face."
He went through the curtain at the back of his shop. When he returned, he held a flat sheet of white cardboard in one hand and a large fluff of tissue paper in the other. He set the tissue paper down beside the cake container (it began at once to expand, with secret little ticks and snaps, into something which looked like a giant corsage) and began to fold the cardboard into a box exactly the right size for the lampshade. "I know you'll be a fine custodian of the item you have purchased. That's why I sold it to you."
"Really? I thought Mr. Keeton and the trick "
"No, no, no!" Mr. Gaunt said, half-laughing and half-exasperated. "Anyone will play a trick! People love to play tricks! But to place objects with people who love them and need them that is a different kettle of fish altogether. Sometimes, Netitia, I think that what I really sell is happiness what do you think?"
"Well," Nettle said earnestly, "I know you've made me happy, Mr.
Gaunt. Very happy."
He exposed his crooked, Jostling teeth in a wide smile. "Good!
That's good!" Mr. Gaunt pushed the tissue-paper corsage into the box, cradled the lampshade in its ticking whiteness, closed the box, and taped it shut with a flourish. "And here we are! Another satisfied customer has found her needful thing!"
He held the box out to her. Nettle took it. And as her fingers touched his she felt a shiver of revulsion, although she had gripped them with great strength-even ardor-a few moments ago. But that interlude had already begun to seem hazy and unreal. He put the Tupperware cake container on top of the white box. She saw something inside the former.
"What's that?"
"A note for your employer," Gaunt said.
Alarm rose to Nettle's face at once. "Not about me?"
"Good heavens, no!" Gaunt said, laughing, and Nettle relaxed at once. When he was laughing, Mr. Gaunt was impossible to resist or distrust. "Take care of your lampshade, Netitia, and do come again."
"I will," Nettle said, and this could have been an answer to both admonitions, but she felt in her heart (that secret repository where needs and fears elbowed each other continuously like uncomfortable passengers in a crowded subway car) that, while she might come here again, the lampshade was the only thing she-would ever buy in Needful Things.
Yet what of that? It was a beautiful thing, the sort of thing she had always wanted, the only thing she needed to complete her modest collection. She considered telling Mr. Gaunt that her husband might still be alive if he had not smashed a carnival glass lampshade much like this one fourteen years ago, that it had been the last straw, the one which finally drove her over the edge. He had broken many of her bones during their years together, and she had let him live. Finally he had broken something she really needed, and she had taken his life.
She decided she did not have to tell Mr. Gaunt this.
He looked like the sort of man who might already know.
3
"Polly! Polly, she's coming out!"
Polly left the dressmaker's dummy where she had been slowly and carefully pinning up a hem, and hurried to the window. She and Rosalie stood side by side, watching as Nettle left Needful Things in a state which could only be described as heavily laden.
Her purse was under one arm, her umbrella was under the other, and in her hands she held Polly's Tupperware cake container balanced atop a square white box.
"Maybe I better go help her," Rosalie said.
"No." Polly put out a hand and restrained