The Bluestone Review 2020

The Bluestone Review 2020

Prose

Mr. Ward,” Martin greeted in an exaggerated English accent to the middle-aged shop owner. “Enough, Martin,” Mr. Ward dismissed. “I need you all to listen—yes, even Jonathan. I’ve been looking over the budget—” “Oh dear,” Loretta muttered. “—and things aren’t looking well.” Jonathan looked indifferently upon Mr. Ward. “You don’t want me here today.” “No! There’s no budget! I can’t afford your service.” Martin chuckled nervously as Jonathan’s intense gaze burned into him. After all, Martin was the one who promised Jonathan money. With a pompous, “Humph!” Jonathan packed up his tools and stormed out of the store, leaving the AC unit dismantled. “We’ve been open for five weeks. How could we already be threatened with a shut-down?” Loretta asked. “You haven’t seen any customers around these days, have you?” Mr. Ward crossed his arms. “It’s these chain stores! We didn’t get a chance to build a decent clientele, thanks to those places stealing would-be customers,” Martin ranted. “You can’t get this neat yo-yo and laundry detergent in a single chain grocery, can you?” Martin showed the other employees a wood-finished yo-yo. “Actually, Martin, you can,” Mr. Ward deadpanned. “Oh.” “It could be our strange inventory.” Loretta leaned against a product shelf. “Also, this building isn’t exactly the living end.” The wrinkles on Mr. Ward’s face deepened as he scowled. “For years, I saved so I could open my own business. This building was the best I could afford on those savings. I don’t want my struggle to have been in vain.” The three fell into silence. Cars whirred by outside, and the sound of heels clicking against pavement drew near. The small bell on the door rang. All eyes fell on the poised woman who stood in the doorway. Before she walked in, she inspected every inch of the room. She never once looked at the employees, who stared at her, for they were stunned over someone entering the store. They dared not speak for fear of scaring her away. As if by magic—as if she knew by instinct where to look—the first shelf she drifted towards made her immediately exclaim in a curious accent, “You have this?” “Yes —that,” Mr. Ward blindly concurred. “I hadn’t found these in America until now,” she praised, holding up a candy bar labeled “Violet Crumble.” “Huh. I wonder why,” Martin remarked as he leaned against the front counter. Mr. Ward looked at Loretta with perplexed features; Loretta shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose you did know what you were doing when you ordered inventory that nobody wanted,” Loretta said. “It was the right inventory, but the wrong customers.” Mr. Ward gazed quizzically at Loretta. “I’m just saying maybe we do have a chance, Mr. Ward.”

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