Page 12 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
The morning crawls by with only two more customers: someone looking for directions to somewhere that isn't here, and Tommy Martinez with his mom. Tommy immediately attaches himself to the train display while Maria gives me the universal mom look of "please entertain my child while I have five seconds of peace."
"Miss Wren, can I run the train?"
"Sure, but be gentle. It's older than both of us combined."
"It's older than you? But you're like, really old."
"I'm twenty-eight."
"That's what I said. Really old."
This kid's going places. Not college necessarily, but definitely places.
"Tommy! That's not polite!" Maria mortifies.
"It's fine. To a seven-year-old, I'm basically ancient. I probably seem like I remember when dinosaurs roamed the earth."
"Do you?" Tommy asks seriously.
"Oh yes. I used to ride a triceratops to school. Uphill. Both ways."
He considers this. "That's silly. Triceratops were herbivores. They wouldn't be good for riding."
"What would you recommend?"
"Velociraptors. But you'd need a saddle."
"And probably health insurance." I mutter.
"What's health insurance?"
"Something velociraptors definitely don't accept."
Maria manages to extract Tommy after he's run the train approximately forty-seven times, each with sound effects that suggest the train is going through some sort of existential crisis. At one point, I'm pretty sure he made it scream.
I'm reconciling the register—a depressing activity that's like checking your bank account after a weekend in Vegas—when my phone rings. Miranda Fletcher from the bank. My stomach relocates somewhere near my ankles.
"Wren, I'm calling as a courtesy."
Courtesy. That's what people say before they ruin your life politely.
"The loan committee met this morning."
"And?" My voice comes out squeaky, like I've been inhaling helium. Or panic. Mostly panic.
"They're not optimistic about an extension. Unless something significant changes..."
"Define ‘significant’."
"Proof of increased revenue. A co-signer with substantial assets. Or..." she pauses, and I can hear her choosing her words carefully, "evidence of personal stability that might affect your business prospects."
"Personal stability. You mean a husband."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Your pause was very loud."
"Wren, I'm trying to help. The committee is very traditional. They see a single woman struggling to maintain a business, and they make assumptions. Fair or not, those assumptions affect their decisions."
