Uh-oh. “You seemed so upset that first time I stopped in,” Katie said. “You’d obviously been crying. I just assumed you were crying over Josh.”
“Well, sort of.” A still pale Erikka lay back down. “But it wasn’t because I was in love with him.” She made a face of such distaste that Katie had to fight down the urge to laugh. “It was because I was out of a job.”
“Marcie said she’d put in a good word for you with the new firm.”
“Yeah, that and a buck fifty will buy me a cup of cheap coffee.” Erikka stared at the ceiling. “I’m not counting on that. I can’t. And now . . .” Her voice cracked. “And now Luke and I had this huge fight. It was his apartment first, so I’m the one who has to leave, and I just maxed out my credit card because I had to put a new transmission in my car. I need a new place to live, I don’t have the money for a deposit on an apartment, and I don’t have a job. I am so screwed.” She turned away, but silent sobs wracked her body.
Katie’s heart ached for the younger woman, but there was something that had to come first. “Did Luke hurt you? I’m just asking because your clothes are ripped.”
The short black hair moved from side to side in a negative way. “Luke’s a jerk, but he’s not that much of a jerk. It happened when I was moving my stuff out of his place. My arms were full and I tripped. I must have caught my sleeve on something.
Katie breathed a short sigh of relief. “I don’t know about a place for you to live, but I can talk to a friend of mine about a job. Not a great one, mind you, but something that might tide you over.”
“You . . . what?” Erikka faced her. “Really? I mean, really and truly?”
“The pizza place across the Square is in dire need of help. So like I said, not a great job, and I can’t promise you anything, but I can introduce you to the owner.”
“That would be so cool!” The strain on Erikka’s face was still there, but at least it had toned down a notch. “Thanks, Katie, thanks so much! I didn’t mean to put you to any trouble.” She looked around apologetically. “All I really came here for was to ask if anyone here does consignment. I need some money fast for an apartment, and I thought maybe I could raise some cash by selling some of my stuff.”
Katie shook her head. “Not here, but I can give you a couple of names.” She paused. “What are you going to do about a place to live? Your parents?”
But Erikka was already shaking her head. “I was raised by my mom. Met my dad maybe twice, and I have no idea where he is. Mom moved to Texas with her new boyfriend, and all she does is complain about the heat.” A flicker of a smile appeared. “I hate hot. I’d rather stay here and deal with snow than be hot.”
Katie disagreed with that statement, but she let it go.
“I just need to make some calls,” Erikka said. “If I can sleep on a friend’s couch until I make the money for a rent deposit, I’ll be good.”
“Sounds like you have a plan.”
“Oh, I always have a plan.” Erikka’s smile was bigger this time. “It’s the timing that’s the hard part.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” As the two women smiled at each other, Katie felt sorrow and sympathy for all the people who were so close to being without a roof over their heads. She’d been close to it herself, once or twice, and knew how frightening it felt.
Rose came in, carrying a white paper bag and looking grim. “Katie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the fumes are back.”
“What?” Katie shot to her feet. “I thought . . . Never mind. Rose, can you make sure Erikka eats everything in that bag? And Erikka, I’ll call Andy today about that job, but right now I have to go deal with something.”
She charged out of the lounge and into the lobby. The fumes were indeed back. Not nearly as pervasive as they’d been, but still there, bright and sharp and making the insides of her nose crinkle.
But just as her hand was on the salon’s doorknob, she heard an odd, choking sort of noise coming from behind her. She turned and saw the tall, portly form of Godfrey Foster stagger and crash into the cash register’s counter.
“Godfrey!” She ran to his side. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”
His breaths struggled in and out. “Air,” he rasped, clutching at his throat. “I need air. Can’t . . . breathe . . .”
“Call nine-one-one!” Katie shouted. She’d left her cell phone in her office and didn’t want to leave Godfrey alone. “Someone call nine-one-one! He’s having an allergic reaction!”
Sam Amato, whom she remembered seeing in his booth earlier that morning, hurried toward them. “Got it,” he said, tapping at his phone and holding it to his ear. “I need an ambulance,” he told the person at the other end of the phone. “Allergic reaction. Breathing difficulties.”
With that taken care of, Katie’s attention went back to Godfrey. He was wheezing, and his face was turning red.
“Need . . . air!” he gasped. “Can’t . . . breathe!”
She took his arm. “We need to get you outside and away from these fumes.” With Sam’s one-handed help, because he was still talking to the 911 dispatcher, they ushered the large man outside and into the fresh air. But Katie knew essentially nothing about allergies and had no idea if Godfrey was still in danger.
Frightening thoughts tumbled about in her head. What if he was seriously hurt due to Crystal’s nail business? What if he sued Artisans Alley? What if he sued her? What if he . . . died?
She tightened her grip on his arm. “Take deep breaths,” she advised.
“C-can’t,” he stuttered. “Hurts . . . so . . . much . . .”
Katie and Sam exchanged worried glances. “How much longer?” Sam asked into the phone. But even as he asked the question, Katie heard the distant, but very welcome, sound of a siren.
Between them, they eased Godfrey down onto the concrete pad at the entrance to Artisans Alley. After what felt like an eternity, the McKinlay Mill Fire Rescue Unit pulled up in front of the building, and two emergency medical technicians hopped out, one male and one female.
“Breathing difficulties?” the female asked, opening the storage units on the side of the squad.
“Any chest pains?” the male asked, grabbing two boxes of equipment.
Katie gratefully relinquished her place at Godfrey’s side and watched as the pair went to work. After a few minutes of evaluation, a Rural/Metro ambulance arrived, and its EMTs took over. The firefighters helped them transfer Godfrey to a gurney. “We need to take you to the hospital,” the female said. She looked at Katie. “Are you his wife?”
“No! But I have her phone number.” She had all the vendors give her emergency contact information, just in case.
“You might want to call her,” the male EMT said, jumping up easily into the back of the ambulance to help Godfrey in from above.
“I’ll do that,” Katie promised, and in short order, the EMTs shut the back doors of the vehicle and started off, with lights flashing.
“No siren,” Sam commented. “That’s a good sign.”
“It is?” Katie watched the vehicle cross the Square and head east toward Greece and the nearest hospital.
“Sure. If it’s truly life-threatening, they’ll turn on the siren and go a lot faster.” He grinned. “And then charge a lot more for the ride.”
Katie wondered if Godfrey carried health insurance. Had he had any policies through Josh? She couldn’t remember, but that wasn’t her problem. She thanked Sam for his help and went back inside.
In the vendors’ lounge, Erikka, who was now sitting up and had much better color, and Rose were chatting away as if they’d known each other for years instead of less than an hour.
“Is everything all right?” Rose asked.
“Yes, but no.” Katie slowed but didn’t stop. “I’ll give you an update later.” She went into her office and shut the door behind her.
She sat at her desk and unlocked the drawer that contained her private files. She flipped through the vendor folder and found Godfrey’s home number.
For a moment, she just stared at it. Then, after taking a deep, calming breath, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello, is this Godfrey’s wife? Hi, this is Katie Bonner . . .”
Five minutes later, she hung up the phone and fervently hoped she’d never have to make a call like that again in her life. Once had been more than enough. She shook away the fear she’d heard in the woman’s voice, dug into her purse for her cell phone, and scrolled through her list of favorite numbers.
“Hey, Seth, it’s Katie.”
“And this is Seth. What can I do for you on this wonderful Friday morning? If you’re calling about dinner tonight, I’m actually booked up, if you can believe it.”
“Of course I can believe it, but this time I have a legal question.”
“My favorite kind. What’s up?”
Katie described to him the situation with Crystal and her nail business and the complications that were arising. “What can I do, legally?” she asked. “I want to help her, but this situation can’t continue.”
“Of course not,” Seth said, and Katie heard the tapping of his computer’s keys. “I’m just pulling up your lease . . . Ah, here it is. Hang on a second . . .” There was a long pause. Katie waited as patiently as she could, which wasn’t very, but before she went completely insane from waiting, Seth said, “There’s nothing in the lease about termination for a situation like this.”
Katie slumped in her chair. She’d been so sure that any lease Seth had written would have anticipated everything. Now what was she going to do?
“But,” Seth said, “there also isn’t any clause that allows subleasing.”
“So . . . ?” Katie asked hopefully.
“You can force—what was her name, Crystal? If Crystal is subleasing from Brittany, and that certainly sounds like what is happening in this case, then you can force Brittany to evict Crystal.”
“Thanks, Seth,” she said. “I appreciate your help.”
She thumbed off the phone. Eviction sounded awful, but Katie didn’t see that she had a choice—not any longer.
Fourteen
Katie emerged from her office to find Rose and Erikka sitting together at the table in the vendors’ lounge.
“You won’t believe this,” Rose said, smiling at her, “but Erikka’s best friend is the daughter of my new next-door neighbor.”
“That’s nice,” Katie said, trying to care but not doing a very good job.
“Are you all right, dear?” Rose peered at her. “You look troubled.”
Katie longed to pour out all her problems, to sit and talk until she couldn’t talk any longer, but she had to catch Crystal before she left the building, and besides, her problems weren’t Rose’s problems. She didn’t want to burden her friend unnecessarily. She’d listen, of course, and do what she could, but the job at hand was Katie’s and Katie’s alone.
“I’m fine,” she finally said, glancing at her watch. Could it really be a quarter to eleven? She was due for lunch with Andy at eleven. Since this time she’d slid her phone into her pocket when leaving the office, she pulled it out and sent Andy a quick text that she might be a few minutes late. Then she sent him another that she had someone who was interested in working at Angelo’s. She watched the screen, then saw the replies. “OK,” to the being-late text, and “Sweet!!” along with five kissy-face emojis to the potential employee text.
“Looks like you have an excellent shot at a job,” she said to Erikka. “I’m meeting Andy, the owner of Angelo’s, for an early lunch. If you want to hang around for a little while, when I get back I’ll let you know when he wants you to stop by for an interview.”
To Katie’s surprise, Erikka’s face crumpled into tears. “I don’t know what to say,” she choked out. “You’re being so nice to me. I hardly even know you, and you’re doing all this for me.”
Rose leaned over and put an arm around Erikka’s shoulders. “Everyone needs a helping hand once or twice in their lives,” she said. “This is your turn, that’s all.”
Katie realized that, due to all the emotion in the room, her own throat was closing up. She swallowed it away and said, “Everyone gets a turn.” If they’re lucky, she thought to herself as she walked through the lobby. Because what she was about to do would be the absolute opposite of a helping hand.
She entered the salon. Inside, the music was soft and the lighting subdued. Katie instantly found herself relaxing, which she knew was the whole point of the decor, but being relaxed wasn’t going to help her. Instead, she summoned up images of Godfrey’s red face, of the ambulance, and of the letters she might soon be receiving from Godfrey’s attorney.
“Good morning, can I . . . Oh, hi, Katie. What’s up?” Crystal asked, smiling.
Katie looked longingly at Crystal’s glorious hair, then focused. “Do you know what happened out there a few minutes ago?” She nodded toward the lobby.
“Um, no.” Crystal darted a glance toward the glass door, but its smoky color revealed little on the other side except for vague shapes. “I was busy with a new client. She wanted new nails and this complicated design. I think it turned out pretty nice; she seemed really happy with it. I think I’m starting to build up a client base.” She bounced a little. “This is going to work. I’m sure of it.”
Katie shook her head. “It may work, but it can’t work here. I’m sorry.”
“But . . .” Crystal fumbled for the end of her braid. Toying with the end, she said, “But I’ve figured out a venting system. I mean, it’s not professional or anything, but I found an old shop vacuum at the thrift store. You can reverse those, you know? And I attached it to some of that flexible tubing and put the other end in that outside window in the back.”
“It’s better,” Katie said, “but it’s not enough. One of the vendors had an allergic reaction just now and was taken away in an ambulance.”
Crystal’s hands flew to her face. “That’s awful!” Her eyes started to water. “Is he okay? Please tell me he’s not going to die.”
“The ambulance didn’t turn on its siren,” Katie said, which was the only information she had. “So I assume it wasn’t life-threatening.”
“That’s good.” Crystal returned to fussing with her braid. “I mean, that’s really good. I’m so, so, so sorry, Katie. I thought . . . I wish . . . I mean I’d hoped . . .” Her half-formed sentences trailed off to nothing.
“I’m sorry, too,” Katie said. “I’d hoped this would work out for you. But you can’t stay.” She didn’t bother mentioning the sublease issue, though she would if she had to.
Tears trickled down Crystal’s face. “Do I have to leave right now?”
For the second time that morning, Katie’s heart ached for another person. “I can’t have you doing any more acrylic nails. None. But I suppose you can stay for another week if you’re just doing manicures and nail decorations.”
“Thanks,” Crystal said softly, her voice cracking on the single word. “I appreciate—” Suddenly, she whirled and ran down the short hallway. A door thumped shut, and then came the sound of a young woman sobbing as if she would never stop.
Katie took a single step in the direction of the weeping.
No. It wasn’t her place to comfort Crystal. She wanted to—oh, how she wanted to—but it wouldn’t be right. She blew out a breath and left the salon in a sour mood.
Sometimes being a business owner truly sucked.
Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. Katie found it easy to go for an extra-long walk before heading into Artisans Alley, and even then she was regretting the fact that she would be spending the rest of that fine-looking day inside.
Every lap of the Square that she walked, more and more store owners appeared, sweepi
ng around doorsteps that were already clean and washing windows that didn’t show a speck of dirt. Everyone, Katie thought, was looking for an excuse to be outside.
Katie shivered as she saw in her mind’s eye the snow she would soon be trudging through, then she told herself to stop thinking about the inevitable future and just enjoy the day. She turned her face to the rising sun and basked in its warmth, smiling and imagining that she could feel the radiant heat seep down into her bones.
Still smiling, she finished her walk and entered Artisans Alley with a light heart and filled with purposeful energy. It was Saturday, and the place would be busy from open to close. First off, she needed to make sure the checkout counters were fully stocked. Then she’d do a quick inspection of the restrooms and take a brisk walk around the floors to make sure all the booths were shipshape.
Cash Desk 2 was low on plastic bags, so she ferried a couple of boxes of them from the storeroom. A quick glance of the restrooms showed that everything was in order, so she was ahead of her self-imposed schedule when she went up the stairs to check the upper sales floor.
Glancing at her watch, she was pleased to see there were almost forty-five minutes until the building opened to the public. If she didn’t get caught in a conversation with an early-arriving vendor, she would have time to take care of a few things in her office before the day got busy.
One of her favorite things was to run the register, to see what people purchased and ask questions about who the item was for and why it had been purchased. She’d learned a lot from asking those simple questions.
She smiled, remembering that not all of what she’d discovered was retail-oriented. Some people were willing to share the most bizarre details of their lives. There was the man who’d told her the reason he was buying a pale pink pendant for his wife was because he’d bought something similar for his first girlfriend and hadn’t stopped thinking of her for thirty years. And there was the woman who’d purchased one of Sam Amato’s metal sculptures because it “spoke to her.” What it might have said, Katie had no idea, other than “I’m a piece of metal,” but then her taste in art ran more to the Impressionists, and anyway, wasn’t it the aim of Artisans Alley to bring all kinds of artists together under one roof?
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