1 Carpe Bead'em

by Tonya Kappes

  “I…I don’t know what to say.” My cheeks flush from the flattery. “I have never made anything in my life.”

  “Of course, I’d pay you.” She points to the display case with other bracelets for sale.

  “I would be honored.” Why not? I can make bracelets since I have nothing else to do with my downtime.

  “Great. You can make them for about five dollars a bracelet and sell them for about twenty dollars. You’d get ten dollars for each bracelet sold.”

  I do the math. I made four bracelets today, and that took about three hours. That included learning how to do them. Plus the conversation with Dee and the other beaders is enjoyable.

  I don’t care about the money. It’s the activity itself that makes me feel good. Isn’t that what those endorphins are supposed to do?

  “Deal.”

  We shake on it.

  I know it’s a quick decision and I’m new at this, but I’ve got a really good feeling.

  “Great. Take some beads, wire, toggles, clasps and get started. What you don’t use, bring back. If you need more, come get them during store hours. You need to make business cards to attach to them.” Dee helps me gather all my materials and even throws in a bead board, crimpers, and pliers. All I need to get started.

  My mind is racing, trying to come up with different names. The pressure of a name. The scene from Pretty Woman comes to mind, the one in which Julia Roberts’ character is next to the pool talking to Laura San Giacomo’s character.

  Still no name. I’m going to sleep on it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Why does the city feel so much hotter than the suburbs? I pat the sweat from my brow while looking for a safe place to park near Aunt Grace’s building.

  The kids playing in the water, shooting out from the fire hydrant, bring back memories of me running around the same spouting hydrant years ago.

  “Hey, Uncle Jimmy.”

  “What?” he yelps. “What?” He’s sitting in the spot as always with a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap pulled way down, covering his eyes. “Your aunt is upstairs. Crazy old broad.”

  “Now, now, Uncle Jimmy. That’s no way to talk about your bride.” There’s no way I’m going to fight with crazy.

  “Bride my ass.” He still won’t look at me. “She’s always on me about having a little nip here and there.”

  A little nip, right. He reeks of alcohol and I’m standing three feet away.

  “Nothing wrong with a nip, as long as it’s a nip.” I laugh and climb up the stairs behind him.

  The lingering heat compounds the stagnant smell of urine, vomit, and bugs. It’s just dirty here. Many times, members of my family had tried to get Aunt Grace out of here and move her to the suburbs. She’s always refused. Now that burden is all on me.

  “Aunt Grace?” I push open her slightly open door and launch into my speech. “You really should think about moving. All the kids running around, you probably never get any peace and quiet.”

  The hot plate is sizzling, the television is blaring. Aunt Grace is under her bed.

  “Here.” She hands me a dingy yellow bag, and motions me towards the door. “Now get out of here.”

  She didn’t want me to visit. She wants to get everything worth anything out of her house. Her idea of rehab for Uncle Jimmy, who will apparently steal what he can’t pawn.

  Like a good girl, I do as I’m told.

  “That was quick.” Uncle Jimmy said, ducking when I jumped over him.

  “Yep, bye.” I secured the bag under my arm.

  I don’t peek in the bag until halfway home, in fear of letting out any unwanted bugs. But curiosity has gotten the better of me.

  I reach over and take out the shiny object sticking out of the bag. Silverware?

  There is some carving on the handle.

  What in the world am I going to do with tarnished silver ware? The deeper I dig, I pull out more silver with carved handles. They all have different scenes carved on them, and is actually pretty.

  I put the bag on the back porch, when I get home, and start sorting the silver. It is the most beautiful matching set of six forks and six knives, all with carved ivory-figure handles. All the carvings are of children dressed in Victorian garb. I run my finger over the fork I’m holding, wondering about its history. Wondering if these were Aunt Grace’s as a child, or if they’re worth any money. And why she’s passing on her treasures to me. Is Aunt Grace the psychic one? Does she think her days are numbered?

  I repack everything in a grocery bag and throw Aunt Grace’s in the garbage.

  I don’t care if it’s worth zilch. It’s Aunt Grace’s treasure, and it’s worth something to me.

  It joins the china, in the back of my car, just in case.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The more I look at my bracelets, the desire builds to design and make more. I must’ve dreamed about more designs. I woke up with my creative juices flowing. It’s a feeling I can’t describe. I dance around the room and the images keep coming. I stop to jot down a few notes so I won’t forget.

  Visions of greens, pinks, yellows, swirls, and glass sparkling, consumes me. as I slide them on the wire. It may sound strange, but I want to have a purpose in this world. And if I can make one person happy by receiving one of my bracelets as a gift, it makes me happy.

  I lace up my tennis shoes, and put all my extra energy into jogging through Hyde Park before work. If by chance, Dee is at One Bead At A Time, I might have to stop.

  The rain can’t dampen the twinkling beads through the window.

  My soul awakens. I feel alive!

  The person looking at me, in the glass window, is not the same girl who walked in this door yesterday. Just like a curve ball, it hits me. I’ve never been as passionate about doing something other than fashion design.

  I used to cut out clothes from magazines and paste them together, all the way down to the accessories. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a new outfit in mind. Now I’m waking up, thinking about beads.

  “What are you doing?” Dee has a vested interest in why I’m standing in the rain, pressing my hands and nose up against her store widow. She motions for me to come in. “It’s pouring rain.”

  “I was jogging.” I don’t tell her I’ve been bit by the beading bug. “And I stopped to look at the window display.”

  “Jogging, in the rain?” She hands me a towel from behind the counter. “You’re soaked. I’ve heard about you die hard runners.”

  “A good stress reliever.” I run the towel down my ponytail, and come clean. “I loved making the bracelets. I have a few other designs in my head and I want to get a couple different beads to see if they work.”

  “So that’s why you’re really here.” She laughs. “It happens to the best of us.”

  I’m a little embarrassed, though I don’t know why.

  “Good,” she says, and puts a few shipping boxes on the glass counter. “That’s the drive you need to make the bracelets. Plus your excitement adds to your creative flow.”

  If only she knew how much creative flow is going through me, she might call off our deal out of fear. Fear of my obsession.

  I sort through some of the chez glass beads. Designs start popping in my head one after the other, and I sketch them on a piece of paper. I take my time so I won’t forget any of the details.

  “Hallie?” Dee leans over the counter, checking out my notes. “Did you just come up with those designs?”

  I smile, embarrassed. “They’re just ideas.”

  “They’re beautiful!” She sets a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. “I keep a coffee maker in the back.”

  I look at my watch knowing I have to go to work. I’d much rather stay here. “Only one cup,” I say as I close my eyes and let the joy of caffeine take over.

  I’ve only known Dee for twelve hours, but this is the first cup of coffee I’ve had with someone I consider a girlfriend since I left Cincinnati.

  She takes an X-acto kni
fe out of the drawer and starts to open boxes. “It’s nice to share a cup of coffee in the morning.”

  “I come in this early every Wednesday because I get my shipments on Tuesday night.” She digs through the box, paying no attention to me ogling all the merchandise. Her eyes

  light up when she shows me a tiny zip lock with beads.

  “Oh, look! I’ve been waiting three months for these.” Her eyes pop open.

  She inspects each bead and I want to inspect them, too. She comments on how different one is from the other. I begin to see it too.

  “Lampwork beads. Aren’t they gorgeous?” She digs deeper in the box, the crease between her brow deepens. She frowns. “Only one? Not enough to put out. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if I get more next week.”

  “Only ten beads?” I count them, as she puts them back in the bag. My mouth begins to water at the mere idea of a design involving those beads.

  “Yes.” She carefully puts them back in the tiny bag. “I pay ten dollars for ten. Very expensive, but I can get double that.”

  No shit! More designs pop in my head. All sorts of different ways to make one of the beads the focal point in a bracelet, surrounded by coordinating colors.

  “May I?” I ask.

  With her agreement, I grab one of the boards and take the orange glass bead out of the zip-lock. I put different, heavier silver beads on each side, and white cat’s eye beads in between those.

  “Those are Bali beads.” Dee points to the heavy silver ones.

  It’s like I’m transported into another life. I can’t think about anything other than this design and my fingers begin to take over.

  Dee tops off my coffee cup.

  “Wow, Hallie! You’ve been here a total of twenty minutes and look at that design!” She can hardly contain her excitement.

  “Twenty minutes?” I snap back into reality and look at my watch.

  “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for work.” But as I dart out the door I yell, “I’ll be back later tonight. Keep my beads on the board.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  When I finally get to work, fifty minutes late because I failed to take Cincinnati traffic into account, I’m surprised to see Beatrice having a coffee party with two women in my office.

  “Hi.” I walk in, still mad at myself for being late.

  Beatrice stands while the two ladies sit in the guest chairs in front of the desk. Quickly I determine they’re with Saks Department Store.

  I introduce myself. “Let me be the first to say we love the location you have given us.”

  The more mature looking of the two stands up. “Yes, Hallie, we are from the corporate office, and wanted to see the boutique firsthand.”

  The younger of the two stands up as well. “Beatrice was just telling us about your meeting with the local press.”

  I shoot a quick glance at Beatrice and blink, wondering if she’ll understand it as a thank-you.

  “Oh, yes,” I say.

  They smile with approval.

  I turn, wide-eyed, towards Beatrice and listen as she says, “Yes, I was telling them about your meeting with some of the local press about doing a couple interviews with Cincy Beat and What’s Happening Now on the local Fox news channel.”

  My heart sinks back into my chest where it belongs. I can breathe. She’s saved me, again.

  “We think it’s a great idea,” Bachelorette No 1 says. “We’re very pleased with the way the boutique is set up and your first week of sales without any advertising. This is exactly what we need to open this store. You’ve proven your ability and dedication.”

  “Thank you,” I say. I decide to make Beatrice the most killer bracelet my imagination can come up with.

  Beatrice shows them around the boutique and Saks. I can tell she’s buying me time to get the local Fox station on the phone and set up an interview, quickly. She winks as they leave my office. To my delight, the station is happy to set up an interview it can use in their “New To Town” segment, that focuses on new businesses in the area. It was almost too easy.

  “Brilliant!” After they’re gone, I grab Beatrice by the shoulders and give her a big squeeze. “No one on Michigan Avenue would’ve had my back that quick,” I tell her. “You’re my new best friend! You’re amazing thinking on your feet like that. Tell me everything from the beginning. And don’t leave out a single detail.”

  Beatrice beams with pride.

  I treat Beatrice to a lunch over on Fountain Square at La Italian Restaurant. We sit on the outside balcony underneath the red awning on the couch and dine on New York strip steak and arugula salad. On Gucci’s tab of course.

  Despite the rocky start, my day is good. Still, I can’t wait for the rest of the workday to be over so I can get back to Dee and my designs. I plan on making it and wearing it with my new orange Gucci silk runway dress that isn’t even out yet. I got the sample in the Michigan store and have been saving it for the perfect occasion.

  What’s more perfect than me on television? New dress. New bracelet.

  All is good in the world of Gucci.

  Week Four

  Live life…one bead at a time.

  Author Unknown

  Chapter Nineteen

  Five in the morning comes early, especially when you want to look good and rested.

  Clap.

  The lights turn on, pounding my puffy eyes. How am I going to look on live television?

  My plan? Run, grab coffee, and get to work for my interview. Surely running will wake me up. And if it doesn’t, the coffee will.

  Café Beginnings is dark the first time I pass it, and the square is silent. Eerily so, for a weekday. The fountain gurgles and echoes with the pounding of my shoes. But the birds begin to chirp as I head for my coffee, and a few cars pass me along the way.

  Addy’s apartment lights are on, and a small light is on in the coffee shop. I knock on the door to see if she’s milling around. A shadow cast on the wall grows bigger and bigger as it comes closer to the door.

  “Hallie?” Addy wipes her hands on her apron with a curious look on her face. She opens the door a little wider for me to step in. “You’re early.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” I’m excited to tell her my news and I blurt it out. “I’m going to be on Good Morning Tri-State on Fox 19!”

  “That’s great!” She turns back to the counter and picks up the remote for the television. “I’m going to leave it on all day.”

  The coffee is already brewing. She puts out fresh fruit, bagels and doughnuts. “Coffee’ll be ready in a few. What are you going to talk about?” She gets a mug for me.

  “They are going to profile the new boutique.” I still can’t believe I’m going to be on television. “My big debut.”

  Over coffee I tell her about Beatrice and how she saved my hide because of my lapse of time with Dee.

  “Wow, Dee’s business is doing good. It’s a great stress reliever from what I hear.” She leans over her cup and steam twirls around her face. “Maybe I need to take a class.”

  “You should.” I encourage her. “We can be like those other groups of ladies that go in and bead all day.”

  I’d love to have a group of girlfriends here.

  “If I ever get a day off.” She snickers and puts yogurt cups out on the counter.

  “It’s strange how beading comes natural to me.” I sip the hot liquid.

  “You never know,” Addy says, and waves her hands around as if destiny is in the Café Beginnings’ air, “maybe that’s your destiny.”

  She goes on about our karma, and our lots in life. I believe in anything that’ll bring me good luck. Hence the Buddha. Because God knows, after losing my family, and living with Aunt Grace, I need it.

  With little time to spare, I thank Addy for the early bird special and jog home.

  By the time I got to work and got my beaded jewelry on, the television crew is set up in the middle of the boutique. Beatrice looks fantastic in a black cap-sleeved
mini dress and red high heels. Her chic short hair makes my beaded chandelier earrings even more beautiful.

  “Wow! You look great.” I run my hand down the seam of her dress to straighten out the silver beading along the front of it. “Great choice of shoes too.”

  “Are you nervous?” she whispers. “All my friends and family are watching.”

  “I wasn’t until now,” I say and bite the bottom of my lip. “You’re going to do fantastic.”

  “Okay we’re ready.” The makeup lady motions for us with her blush brush. I shake hands with Sheila Gray, the morning news anchor and become a little star-struck.

  I ramble on about the boutique and my role. I introduce her to Beatrice. Beatrice perks up and flashes me a grin before she takes them on a quick tour of the boutique.

  “We are on in five, four, three… Stop! Go to commercial.” The camera man screams looking at me. “What is on her knuckle?”

  He grabs my hand. He motions for the makeup lady who begins to blot it with some thick gooey stuff.

  “It completely stands out on the camera.” He whines.

  I want to put him in time-out for acting like a three year-old.

  “I … it’s a mosquito bite.” I sputter, lying through my teeth.

  “That’s the biggest mosquito bite I’ve ever seen. Cover it up and let’s get going.” He hides behind the camera as I apologize.

  “Five, four, three, two ….” The camera man points to us.

  “Good morning, Tri-State. I’m here at the new Gucci boutique with regional manager Hallie Mediate.” Sheila Gray lets her on-camera persona take over. It puts us all at ease. “Can you tell us a little bit about what you’re wearing?”

  I’m dying to tell her about my jewelry, but I hold back. “I’m getting ready for fall in this Gucci tweed trench.” I look down and the sleeve hits perfectly at my wrist, showing off the bracelet.

  “Nice bracelet.” Sheila points to my wrist. “Gucci?”