It had been a very slow retail day, and it was late in the afternoon when the black Sheriff’s cruiser finally arrived on Victoria Square. Ray had not only finished the Santa he’d been carving, but he’d started painting it, and while the first coat dried, he’d started carving another. His conversation with the deputy didn’t take all that long, either.
Deputy Henderson finished jotting down the details and slapped his notebook shut. “You haven’t given me much to go on, and you know what that means.”
Ray scowled. “Yeah, that there’s a slim chance in hell that this kid will ever be caught.”
Henderson shrugged. “McKinlay Mill is a small village. There can’t be that many Asian kids running around.”
“Who says he has to be local?” Ray countered.
“The value of the goods taken was barely worth fifty bucks, so it’s not likely you’ll go broke.”
“Fifty bucks buys a lot of groceries.”
“Not when I go to the store.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’m a better shopper than you.”
Henderson waved a hand. “Whatever.” He looked around the shop. “You really ought to have your register closer to the door.”
“Why? So that if I’m robbed the perp won’t have to walk so far to get away?”
Henderson shrugged. “No. So your surveillance camera on the back wall can capture better video.”
Ray’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not a real camera. I can’t afford a system like that. This dummy just blinks a red light every four or five seconds. It’s the sticker on the door and the signs around the shop that are the real deterrent.”
“Didn’t stop that kid from swiping a few of your tchotchkes.”
Ray bristled at the description of his merchandise. His girls told him they were adorable.
“I’ll go talk to Mrs. Bonner and then I’ll ask a few of the other merchants on the Square if they’ve seen the kid,” Henderson said.
And then … not much would happen. Ray knew the drill. Hell, he’d taken hundreds of such reports and nothing ever came of them. But Katie Bonner’s assault could make his former colleague pay a bit more attention to the case. Of course, knowing Katie, she was liable to downplay the incident. But what if she’d broken her wrists when she’d been pushed to the asphalt? What if she’d hit her head? She could have suffered a concussion or worse.
But she hadn’t. He was needlessly rehashing the incident like a parent, as she’d suggested, or more humiliating, like a lovesick teenager.
“You’d better get to it,” Ray told Henderson. “The shops on the Square will be closing soon.”
“I’m going—I’m going,” Henderson said, and headed for the door.
“Call me with an update.”
Henderson sketched a wave and was gone.
Ray looked at his watch: twenty minutes until closing time. He hadn’t even made fifty bucks the whole day, and the loss of the two figurines made the day a bust. The upcoming Christmas rush had better put him in the black or else he’d have to close the shop and find a real job. Was it pure madness to have even opened Wood U? He had two high schoolers to think about—and their college educations. Not that Sadie and Sasha expected a free ride. The girls were ambitious, and they cheerfully helped out in the shop during the weekends, assisting him with his displays, cleaning, and running the cash register. Would that all end when they found boyfriends? Only time would tell.
Ray grabbed the broom and dust pan from the back of the shop and was sweeping up the wood chips from his carvings when the bell over his door rang, and two individuals entered Wood U. The first was an elderly woman, the second, a young boy—a very familiar young boy—his head hung in shame.
“Well, if it isn’t my little shoplifter,” Ray grated, but still loud enough for the pair to hear.
The woman grabbed the boy’s arm and practically dragged him to the back of the shop. “It is with great embarrassment that we visit your store, sir,” she began, giving the boy a stern look. “My grandson has something to say to you.”
The boy said nothing, his gaze pinned to the floor. She gave him a not-so-subtle nudge.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” the woman demanded.
“Sorry I stole from you.” Without raising his head, the boy dipped a hand into each of his jacket pockets and took out the carvings that he’d purloined earlier that day.
Ray accepted his property, setting them on the sales counter.
“Why did you steal?”
Still gazing at the floor, the boy answered in a quiet voice. “Today is my grandmother’s birthday.”
Ray looked at the older woman, who nodded.
“And?”
“My grandfather died when I was small. He made beautiful carvings. I wanted to give my grandmother a gift that would remind her of him.”
“And you didn’t have the money to buy them?” Ray asked.
The boy nodded.
“He needs to be punished. I thought he could work in your shop as penance,” the grandmother said.
Did Ray really want to have a thief in his shop for any length of time? And what kind of work could he give a kid to do besides sweeping the floor? It would be more trouble than it was worth. But, as he met the old lady’s gaze, he could tell she really wanted to teach the kid a lesson he’d never forget.
And then he had an idea.
“Okay. That sounds reasonable. What’s your name, kid?”
“Jason. Jason Chang.”
“Okay, Jason. You show up here on Saturday morning at eight o’clock and I’ll see what I can do to put you to work.” He looked at the grandmother. “Does that sound reasonable?”
“He will be here.”
“There’s one other thing,” Ray said, scowling. “Jason plowed into a lady who was walking around the Square. She fell and her hands were pretty scraped up.”
“Is that true?” the old woman asked the boy, and for a moment Ray wondered if she might just grab the kid by the ear and give him a good shake.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Jason answered, still cowed.
“Mrs. Bonner is owed an apology, too,” Ray said.
“Do you know where we can find her?” the old lady asked.
“Yes. She manages Artisans Alley at the west end of the Square. She’s probably still in her office right.”
“Then we will go there now.”
Ray nodded.
“Say good-bye, Jason,” the woman instructed.
“Good-bye, sir.”
“I’ll see you on Saturday.”
The old lady nodded, nudged the boy, and they turned for the door.
Ray watched as the woman and boy marched up the Square. It looked like the kid was receiving yet another tongue-lashing. He smiled. Good. These days, kids got away with way too much. It was refreshing to see a relative take responsibility for an errant child and to make things right. He’d call the cop shop later and withdraw his complaint—after Saturday. In the meantime, he had some work to do to make sure the boy truly learned his lesson.
“Aw, Dad—do we have to?” Sasha, Ray’s youngest daughter, asked for the hundredth time, and in that whiney tone teenaged girls are famous for. She had won the coin toss and rode shotgun in the front seat of his rattletrap of a sedan, while her sister consulted the text messages on her phone in the back seat.
“Yes, you have to.”
“For how long?” Sasha asked, clutching the grocery store doughnuts she’d picked out not ten minutes before to take to the shop.
“Probably only today. Just until word gets around.”
Sasha rolled her eyes.
“What else would you be doing today, anyway?” he griped.
“Sleeping in,” Sadie interjected sourly.
“Yeah. The shop doesn’t usually open until ten,” Sasha agreed.
“But then you’d come in and hang around for at least a few hours anyway.”
“Yeah,” Sasha admitted. “But only because a cute guy mig
ht walk in.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sadie said sarcastically. “Cute guys just love to go gift shopping in a wood store.”
“They might at Christmastime,” Sasha stated.
“You hope,” Sadie countered.
Ray looked across the car to see his youngest daughter shrug. Yeah, she probably did hope for just that.
He took the side road and pulled into the back parking area behind Victoria Square. They got out of the car and Ray opened the back door to the shop. He’d spent an hour the evening before setting things up for the morning. Hanging up his jacket, he entered what he’d come to call his showroom and headed for the entrance to unlock the door.
“Dad, want me to get the coffee started?” Sadie called.
“Yes. And some water for cocoa, too, please.”
“Sure thing.”
Ray looked out the big display window. The lot was empty. A few people seemed interested when he’d put the sign in the window a few days before. Well, if nobody—not even Jason—showed up, at least he and the girls had breakfast doughnuts to pig out on. Sasha had polled the two of them for their favorites before she’d gone inside the store to purchase them.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d made it from different types of wood, in a myriad of colors, in a starburst motif, reminiscent of timepieces from the last mid-century. A quartz movement and a fresh double A battery had it keeping perfect time. Still, it was two minutes until eight o’clock. Would anybody show up for his inaugural class?
The door opened and a guy not much older than Ray stepped inside. “Am I in the right place for the carving class?”
“You sure are.” Ray offered his hand. “I’m Ray Davenport. I’ll be teaching it.”
“Good to know you, Ray. I bought a couple of your carvings when you had a booth in Artisans Alley. I mentioned it when I was there yesterday and one of the ladies at the check-out told me about your class.”
“Was she about five-seven, brown hair, and a pretty smile?” he said, and then blanched, hoping his daughters hadn’t heard his description of Katie.
“Sure was. I don’t have any tools, but I figured maybe this would be an informational session and if it looked interesting, I could pick up some from Craigslist or something.”
“Or something,” Ray agreed. “But I have some knives my students can use. I wouldn’t expect anyone to go out and buy tools without first having a chance to see if carving is a hobby they’d like to invest in.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Would you fill out some paperwork?”
“What kind of paperwork?”
“Just a waiver and some basic information,” Ray said, handing the man a sheet of paper.
He glanced at the lines of text. “Sure thing.”
The door opened once again, and a middle-aged woman walked through the door. “I’m here for the carving class.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. Can I ask where you heard about it?” Ray asked.
“The Senior Center next to the library.”
Ray hadn’t contacted them in an effort to promote the class; someone had to have seen his sign and spread the word. He’d make sure he contacted them if he decided to do something similar in the future.
Again the door opened, and this time it was Jason who was once again accompanied by his grandmother. His head still hung low, cowed.
“Jason, welcome to the class,” Ray said in greeting.
The boy looked up. “Class?”
“Several of my customers are getting together today to learn how to carve. As you seemed interested in the carvings I made, I thought you might like to join us.”
For a moment, the boy looked puzzled, but then his eyes lit up as a slow smile crept across his lips.
“That is, if your grandmother will give her permission,” Ray amended.
The old lady nodded. “Perhaps you can teach Jason to carve as my husband would have.” She turned to her grandson. “If you were to learn this skill, you would honor your grandfather.”
“I’d like to try,” Jason said quietly.
Ray handed out wavers to the newcomers as Sadie entered the showroom with a tray laden with an airpot of coffee, Styrofoam cups, sugar, creamer, and a plate filled with doughnuts. She set it on top of the glass display case. “I can make some hot chocolate or tea for anybody who wants it.”
“What do you say, Jason?” Ray asked.
“Yes, cocoa, please.”
“And you?” Ray asked the boy’s grandmother.
“I would be pleased to have tea.”
“Coming right up,” Sadie said, smiled, and headed for the back room once more.
The door opened again, and this time it was a teenaged boy, just about Sasha’s age, who entered the shop. “I heard there was going to be a carving class here.”
“You’re in the right place,” Ray said.
Suddenly, Sasha was by his side, looking cute as a button and batting her eyelashes, which he noted were gummy with mascara. “I’m taking the class, too,” she practically cooed.
Ray got the feeling her earlier protests might have been a smokescreen. Could it be she already knew the young man and had encouraged him to join the lesson? Ray decided not to ask. He handed the boy a waiver and a pen, then addressed his students. “Come on, everybody, take off your coats and let’s get started.”
Sasha gathered the jackets and hung them on one of the Shaker peg racks that was for sale near the front of the store, then everyone took a seat on folding chairs in the corner at the back of the shop. Sasha seemed disappointed not to get a seat next to the latest entrant.
“Shall we all introduce ourselves? I’m Ray Davenport. I own Wood U, and these are my daughters, Sadie—” he pointed, “—and Sasha.”
Sadie smiled and nodded. Sasha looked right at the older boy and giggled.
Ray pointed to the man who’d arrived first. “And you are?”
“Bill.”
“I’m Marie,” the woman volunteered.
“Jason.”
“Ying Chang,” his grandmother said.
“Adam,” the older boy said with a sidelong glance at Sasha, who giggled once more.
Now that the introductions had been made, Ray unwrapped a bundled chamois that had been sitting on the display case, revealing two knives. He picked up one of them. “This one is called a primary knife. You’ll use it for most of your carving.”
His audience listened raptly as they munched doughnuts and drank coffee, tea, and cocoa until he came to the end of his rehearsed opening spiel. And then he passed out boxy basswood blanks that, if diligently worked on, would emerge as owls—the same carving Jason had admired, and pinched, days before.
Of course, there was more to learn than just carving. If they wanted, they could paint their birds of prey; but painting was yet another skill that seemed simple in theory…until you actually had to do it. But Ray had learned a few tricks and he was more than willing to impart them to his students. He was sure their first efforts would look clumsy, as did his own, but no one worked more intently than Jason. Was he channeling the spirit of his paternal grandfather?
Mrs. Chang watched with interest for the first half hour and then got up to wander the shop. Sadie joined her, and showed her some of the more intricate pieces, like the inlaid puzzle box, which seemed to delight the old lady. Sadie spoke knowledgeably about the different wood species and techniques used. It pleased Ray to know his kid had been listening to his idle chatter for the past few years.
Ray gave Jason some gentle correction on how to hold his knife when movement near the front of the shop drew his attention. Mrs. Chang gave Sadie a smile, and then turned for the door. Was she just going to leave the boy with him for the day?
Sadie beckoned her father to step closer.
“When’s she coming back?” he whispered.
“I told her the shop opened at ten, so she said she’d come back then.”
“What were you two talking about?�
��
“Owls.”
“Why?”
“It seems they have a special place in Chinese culture.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Not a very good one, either.”
Uh-oh. Had Ray made a mistake by choosing the bird for the group’s first project?
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a symbol of death. Apparently, Mr. Chang was cremated and there’s an owl etched into his urn. I guess Jason has always been fascinated by it. He didn’t know that meaning and thought his grandmother would enjoy the carving he swiped. She was furious when she found out he’d stolen it.”
Ray let out a weary breath. He should have chosen the little Santa figure for the group’s first project. There was nothing he could do about it now. “What else did she tell you?”
“That Jason’s father was killed when he was four. He and his mother came to live with her and an aunt. His grandfather was a professor at the university. His aunt is one, too.”
“Smart family.”
“His grandmother worries about Jason because he has no male role models.”
So that’s why the old lady wanted the kid to come and work in the shop. But that wasn’t going to happen. For one thing, he was too young to qualify for working papers. Still, maybe Ray’s idea to start the carving class could serve the same purpose.
“He’s been signed up with the Big Brothers, but there are a lot more kids than mentors to go around,” she added.
“Yeah, I think I heard that,” Ray said.
Sadie looked at him with a penetrating glare—not unlike how his late wife used to look. It made him squirm.
“I should get back to my students.”
Sadie grinned. “Did you ever think you’d be a teacher?”
Ray tried not to smile. “I taught you pretty well.”
“Dad,” she practically wailed.
He looked toward the circle of carvers, lowered his voice, and leaned in closer before pointing to one of them. “Is that guy Sasha’s boyfriend?”
“I’ve seen him at school, but I don’t know him,”
Hmm.
“I’m going to collect the dishes and clean everything up,” Sadie said.
Carving Out a Path Page 2
