with the corner of her napkin. “I still have a few gifts to buy. Give me two hours, Mama, and I’ll hurry right home to be at your beck and call the rest of the day.”
“That would be lovely, dear-heart. While you’re out, I’ll get the lights and ornaments organized and plan our attack on the tree.”
Papa laughed. “Ida, Ida! You make decorating sound more like a battle than preparing for Jesus’ birth!”
Annemarie’s breakfast sank cold and heavy in the pit of her stomach. She pushed her chair back and stood. “I think we’ve had quite enough talk of war for a long time to come.”
Before her parents could respond with much more than sheepish smiles and understanding glances, she carried her bowl to the sink and strode out of the kitchen.
At the foot of the stairs she locked trembling fingers around the newel post and closed her eyes in prayer. Dear Lord, help us. Help us all to heal from the wounds of war.
10
A nnemarie stepped inside the Arlington Hotel to find the lobby bustling with guest activity. Maneuvering between arriving and departing guests, she stepped to one end of the registration desk and signaled for the attention of a clerk. “Pardon me, but is Thomas Ballard available?”
“In his office, I believe.” The thin-lipped desk clerk nodded toward a doorway before returning his attention to an elderly gentleman demanding to pay his bill so he could catch a train.
Tucking her gloves into her coat pocket, Annemarie started toward Thomas’s office. She found the door standing ajar and peeked inside. “Good morning, Thomas. May I trouble you for a moment?”
“Annemarie! Come right in. I always have time for you.” Thomas jumped up from behind his desk to clear a stack of papers off a chair. “Here, have a seat.”
“I won’t keep you. I just wondered . . .” She chewed her lip. Why did she always feel so awkward about asking if any of her ceramics had sold?
Thomas held up one finger. “I think I have what you came for right here.” He rifled through his desk drawer, tossing aside pens and scraps of paper and rubber bands and all sorts of paraphernalia. Finally, from the back of the drawer, he retrieved a bulky envelope. With a triumphant grin he passed it across the desk to Annemarie. “I would have said something last night, but it was clear you had other things on your mind, and the next thing I knew, you’d gone home.”
She offered a sad smile of understanding as she took the envelope. The weight of it stunned her. “This is all for me?”
“The hotel’s percentage has already been deducted, and the rest is yours.” Thomas came around and perched on the corner of his desk. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice on your way through the lobby. As of an hour ago, every last one of your ceramic pieces has sold.”
Numb with disbelief, hands shaking, Annemarie folded back the envelope flap. Inside, a stack of crisp bills strained at the seams. She looked up at Thomas to see a smile splitting his face.
“We could have sold even more if we’d had the inventory. I took the liberty of accepting a couple of special orders from some big spenders who’ll be back in town after the first of the year.” Thomas swiveled to reach for a notepad near his telephone. He tore off the top two sheets and handed them to Annemarie. “Think you can handle these?”
She studied the descriptions. One requested a soup tureen with lid and four matching bowls. The other asked for a pair of oversized vases. Both specified her unique “Ouachita sunrise” glaze. Hefting the envelope in one hand, the orders in the other, Annemarie laughed out loud. “This is . . . this is amazing!”
“Thought you might be pleased. I felt mighty lucky I set aside the pink and gold candy dish for Mother’s Christmas gift before someone else snatched it up.”
“Oh, Thomas, you didn’t pay for it, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
Annemarie started to count out the price she’d set for the candy
“That would be lovely, dear-heart. While you’re out, I’ll get the lights and ornaments organized and plan our attack on the tree.”
Papa laughed. “Ida, Ida! You make decorating sound more like a battle than preparing for Jesus’ birth!”
Annemarie’s breakfast sank cold and heavy in the pit of her stomach. She pushed her chair back and stood. “I think we’ve had quite enough talk of war for a long time to come.”
Before her parents could respond with much more than sheepish smiles and understanding glances, she carried her bowl to the sink and strode out of the kitchen.
At the foot of the stairs she locked trembling fingers around the newel post and closed her eyes in prayer. Dear Lord, help us. Help us all to heal from the wounds of war.
10
A nnemarie stepped inside the Arlington Hotel to find the lobby bustling with guest activity. Maneuvering between arriving and departing guests, she stepped to one end of the registration desk and signaled for the attention of a clerk. “Pardon me, but is Thomas Ballard available?”
“In his office, I believe.” The thin-lipped desk clerk nodded toward a doorway before returning his attention to an elderly gentleman demanding to pay his bill so he could catch a train.
Tucking her gloves into her coat pocket, Annemarie started toward Thomas’s office. She found the door standing ajar and peeked inside. “Good morning, Thomas. May I trouble you for a moment?”
“Annemarie! Come right in. I always have time for you.” Thomas jumped up from behind his desk to clear a stack of papers off a chair. “Here, have a seat.”
“I won’t keep you. I just wondered . . .” She chewed her lip. Why did she always feel so awkward about asking if any of her ceramics had sold?
Thomas held up one finger. “I think I have what you came for right here.” He rifled through his desk drawer, tossing aside pens and scraps of paper and rubber bands and all sorts of paraphernalia. Finally, from the back of the drawer, he retrieved a bulky envelope. With a triumphant grin he passed it across the desk to Annemarie. “I would have said something last night, but it was clear you had other things on your mind, and the next thing I knew, you’d gone home.”
She offered a sad smile of understanding as she took the envelope. The weight of it stunned her. “This is all for me?”
“The hotel’s percentage has already been deducted, and the rest is yours.” Thomas came around and perched on the corner of his desk. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice on your way through the lobby. As of an hour ago, every last one of your ceramic pieces has sold.”
Numb with disbelief, hands shaking, Annemarie folded back the envelope flap. Inside, a stack of crisp bills strained at the seams. She looked up at Thomas to see a smile splitting his face.
“We could have sold even more if we’d had the inventory. I took the liberty of accepting a couple of special orders from some big spenders who’ll be back in town after the first of the year.” Thomas swiveled to reach for a notepad near his telephone. He tore off the top two sheets and handed them to Annemarie. “Think you can handle these?”
She studied the descriptions. One requested a soup tureen with lid and four matching bowls. The other asked for a pair of oversized vases. Both specified her unique “Ouachita sunrise” glaze. Hefting the envelope in one hand, the orders in the other, Annemarie laughed out loud. “This is . . . this is amazing!”
“Thought you might be pleased. I felt mighty lucky I set aside the pink and gold candy dish for Mother’s Christmas gift before someone else snatched it up.”
“Oh, Thomas, you didn’t pay for it, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
Annemarie started to count out the price she’d set for the candy
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