Bargain Basement Read online

his eyeglasses with a handkerchief, smiled, and nodded while Shirley examined his wares and planned her strategy. She caught a monogrammed letter “S” as he folded the handkerchief into his shirt pocket. The noise in the hall made bargaining an effort.

  “Good evening!” she shouted. “Sir!” She leaned toward him. “You have some lovely things. Nicer than the others I’ve seen here tonight. Would you tell me how much this candlesnuffer is, and the garnet ring over here, next to the opal brooch? I’m sure that we can make a nice deal. Your name begins with S, I noticed, and that must be for sweet, smart, sincere, sympathetic.”

  “Must be for Sam Sanders, and for Shirley, too, Mrs. Ryder.” He put on his glasses to enjoy every detail of her confusion. “And for sharp, and sometimes silly, and sensitive.” His shoulders jerked up and down as he laughed. “And I heard about you. You’re pretty sharp yourself, so they say.”

  “They say? Who’s they? And how do you know my name?” Shirley was shrieking, sweating again.

  “And for sweat, and surprise. And sorry. Really Mrs. Ryder, I’m sorry, but a stunt like this, hey, there’s another good one, comes along only so often.” He grinned up at her and pulled out the handkerchief to blow his nose. “Mrs. Hanlon here can answer all your questions. Can’t you, Mrs. Hanlon?” Sam Sanders leaned to his left to pat Mrs. Ann-Marie Hanlon on her back. “That was a great idea, Ann-Marie. Haven’t had a laugh like that in quite a while, quite a while.”

  Shirley felt a drop of sweat hanging from the point of her nose. She squeezed it between two fingers and wiped it on her skirt. Ann-Marie sat at the next table, behind a pile of floral print cottons, trays of satin ribbon, threads and notions. “Ann-Marie, what are you doing here? And where have you been? Not in church for a while. What’s this all about? When did you get here? You weren’t here a few minutes ago.”

  “I was here. You even looked me in the eye. You must have been in a big hurry because I shouted and waved at you. You stopped to look at Sam’s goodies and disappeared so fast. Sam and I just got to chatting and I told him a little about you. And then you showed up and Sam had his little joke.”

  “Then you two are old friends. And you played your joke on poor little Shirley.”

  “No, Mrs. Ryder, Ann-Marie and I were just sitting here talking. There’s a big crowd but nobody’s buying much. We were just making the time go. When you started your little speech, you know, I couldn’t resist.”

  “So you haven’t been selling much?” Shirley changed to a new strategy. She lifted the candlesnuffer, judging its weight, calculating how much she would offer.

  “Not that it matters much any more,” said Ann-Marie, and dragged her chair closer to Sam. “At this point a few dollars up or down won’t make any difference. My lease is up in nine weeks. And I’m closing after all these years. I was just telling Sam. Business is gone. No one needs alterations on cocktail dresses. They go to the mall and buy an outfit. For those prices who cares if it fits or what it looks like?”

  “But what will I do without you?” Shirley asked. “I have a jacket at home, and two skirts that need some fixing. I meant to bring them in this week.”

  “I can’t live on that, Shirley.”

  Shirley kept her thoughts to herself. She hadn’t seen Ann-Marie in church for weeks, but the rebuke from Mr. Curtis still gnawed at her. Determined not to go home without the ring and snuffer, she placed them side by side and tapped Sam’s table with ten fingers. “You never did give me a price for these two, Mr. Sanders. The S could be for still sell something tonight.”

  Sam nodded at Ann-Marie, who shrugged, and stood up to refold her fabrics.

  “You’re a shopper, Mrs. Ryder. I see you really are anxious. Let’s say $6 for the ring, $4 for the candlesnuffer.”

  “$6 and $4 you said. $10, that’s a little high for just two items. Make it an even $4 and $4. I still have things to buy in the last aisle.”

  “Why buy something from someone else? No one has such lovely things. You said so yourself. And you want the ring and the snuffer, don’t you? Well then, let’s stay with $10 and call it a good deal for both of us.”

  Shirley thought of Momma’s techniques. She could walk away and come back later but she worried that someone else might buy her treasures. She could complain that they were dirty or poor quality, but he was too experienced for that. “Agreed, Mr. Sanders. Let’s make it $10, you said, for the garnet ring and the snuffer.” She unzipped her purse.

  “Good, Mrs. Ryder. I’m so pleased. The ring is a fine copy of an heirloom piece.”

  Shirley held her wallet. “An heirloom? $10, you said. And how about throwing in a little something for Shirley?”

  “What little something, for example, would Shirley like? What about throwing in a little me?”

  She rewound the curl over her left ear, patted the back of her wet neck, dabbed her forehead with her sleeve. By now the heat had spoiled her hair, her lipstick had faded. He was a joker, but this joke hurt. She held her eyes on the ring, on her purse, on her wallet as she pulled out ten singles. Ten bony fingers, ten passionate pink lacquered fingernails spread the bills on the table. “$10 you said. There’s your money, Mr. Sanders. Now I’ll take my things.”

  “But you didn’t answer my question. What about a little me?”

  “I admit I always like a little something extra but I don’t understand what you mean. I had my eye on that opal brooch.” She tapped on the smooth stone.

  “I think you do understand what I mean, Shirley, and I can throw in the brooch, too, if you take me with it. Just give it a try, one night out for dinner this week. Is that a fair bargain?”

  “A fair bargain? What kind of bargain is it for you?” She patted the curls over the right ear.

  “I’m old enough to know a good deal when I see one, Shirley. And so are you. Well?”

  She watched as he raised a bushy gray eyebrow and awaited her answer. “Then it’s not a joke? Old as I am, and stubborn and foolish, I thought you were teasing me. Just giving me some of my own medicine.”

  “That sounds like a deal to me, Shirley. And take the brooch with you now. You’ll get me later.”

  “No. You hold on to it for now. I like a bargain, but I don’t ask for charity.”

  “And do you give it?”

  She was softening, thinking of Ted. “Momma always taught me to be careful.” She put the candlesnuffer in her purse. The ring, she knew, would never slip past her swollen joints; it would hang around her neck on an old silver chain her mother had worn. Sam would call for her at seven on Wednesday evening. He would treat her to an elegant dinner and they would talk. Shirley wished him a successful good night, forgot Ann-Marie, forgot other bargains, could not remember climbing the stairs. The oak doors were open and the cool night air quieted her excitement. She walked down two stone steps and changed her mind.

  Sitting for a moment in her pew, watching the flames of the candles, she opened her purse. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, Momma. But this one’s a little something extra.” She lit a candle, fourth row, fifth from the left. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Ted. You know me. You know better.” As she pulled a dollar out of her wallet, she realized she had been holding the ring only when she heard it drop. It gleamed in the candlelight. She picked it up; the garnet matched the glasses. She creased the bill with the ring, and folded it again. Holding the dollar above the slot, hesitating, Shirley watched Ted’s flame. “Poor old flame. Sam might like that old joke. Momma would too.” She tossed the ring into her purse, bowed her head, and walked toward the oak doors with the folded dollar in her hand.

  The old shops on County Boulevard were one customer busier than usual on Monday morning. Shirley ran errands in preparation for her dinner engagement with Sam. Ann-Marie would hem her black silk skirt, Mr. Curtis would polish her black pumps, Angela guaranteed a Wednesday morning appointment. Both Angela and Mr. Curtis remarked that they had looked for Shirley at church on Sunday. She had not slept well, she explained: too crowded, hot, no
isy, and exciting for her years. With her perfect record it was shameful to miss a service, but it was all she could do to make a little coffee. Next Sunday life would be back to normal.

  “Clever of you to put the ring on a chain. Next time I’ll give you one. How about another glass of wine? On me, Shirley.”

  “This chain was my mother’s. It makes me feel that she’s here with us. She would scold me for drinking too much already. But this place is just what you said it was, so elegant.”

  “You make it more elegant.” Sam tapped her glass with his spoon and refilled it. “The food is good, it’s quiet, and I like to walk around the mall after dinner. Lily loved it here. She loved it, even the last couple of months.” He paused to clear his throat and take a drink. “I’m surprised you’ve never been here before.”

  “I never come to the mall any more, not for years. I’d heard about this Grande Affair place at church. Members come here after services. Some come instead, I think.”

  Sam sipped his wine and leaned back. “Sounds like me. You’re the opposite, Shirley. Every Sunday for years, but you don’t come to the mall. What you must think of me.” He watched Shirley finish her third glass. She was quiet, tugging on the garnet ring, wiping the perspiration from her face with her linen napkin, sweeping breadcrumbs aside with her knife. He poured the remaining wine