XXVIII: In Which Alex Has a Customer

The perfect glide of scissors through fabric when you got just the right cut was one of the greatest feelings. Alex neatly folded three yards of royal blue two-hundred thread count cotton fabric for the college girl on the other side of the cutting table. She’d said she was making her own Halloween costume, but was being very secretive about what that was. Which, of course, only made Alex curious.

Two yards of black, with that smooth glide again, and one yard of one-inch royal blue silk ribbon. Still no idea of what she was making, but the girl had good taste. Alex pinned the checkout tags to the cloth and wished her customer a happy Halloween, then went back to straightening shelves.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you work here?” A man asked from down the aisle.

“You’re in luck.” She turned to him and smiled. “I’m the Assistant Manager. How can I help you?”

“I need a thirty-six by twenty-four canvas and a frame cut to match. I already have a style picked out, but I can’t seem to find the right size canvas.” The man seemed despondent.

“Well, let me take a quick look and if we’re sold out, I’ll build a framework, cut some painting canvas and stretch it over for you.” Alex chimed.  Helping people was one of her true passions.  As she walked over, she spotted a blank canvas in a spot where canvasses definitely didn’t belong. Customers! Why couldn’t they put things back where they got them? She picked it up. Could she be so lucky? Thirty-six by twenty-four!

“Here we go! Do you have anything specific you’re painting?” Alex asked casually.

“Well, since I’m in the prime of my life, I figured I should really get my portrait done, shouldn’t I? I have just the spot in my attic for it.” He winked at her.

“That’s the best response I’ve heard since I started working here.” She laughed. “Let me get that frame cut for you.”

A few minutes later, she had his purchases ready to go. He started toward the front register, took two steps, stopped and turned around.

“Hey, I know this is out of nowhere, but can I have your phone number?”

Alex considered for a moment. “Sure.” she agreed, then rattled off a phone number that was, completely rationally, still hers. “My name’s Alex. I didn’t get yours.”

“Well, my mother calls me Winchester, but everyone else just calls me Ches.”

“Well, Ches. Nice to meet you. Shoot me a text so I have your number and maybe we can go out for coffee sometime soon.” Alex said with a genuine smile, not just a customer-service one.

“Coffee? Not drinks?” Ches asked with a smile of his own.

“Not for a first hangout, silly! I have to keep you in check somehow.”

“Was that a pun?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Maybe.” She stuck out her tongue. “Now shoo. I have work to do.”