March, 2008
On the Keyboard of Life, Always Keep One Finger on the Escape Key
When I opened the store back in the Dark Ages I inherited one part-time employee and a slew of loyal customers who watched the transfer of ownership with uneasy eyes. I passed approval when they saw that I was adding to, not taking away—and I had a fondness for spur of the moment sales. (Anniversary of the publication of Gone With the Wind? Half off any book regarding the south—up to and including the Southern Living recipe collections. One of the local ferals had a litter of kittens and we had them in a cage at the desk, trying to find them homes? Buy one cat mystery, get one free. (Take home a kitten, get $20 in store credit. All 8 had homes within two days, one way or the other.))
Younger customers grew up, married, had kids and brought them into the store. (Some, like Chanda Davis, came back as employees.) Older customers retired, brought in grandchildren and, sadly, sometimes left this mortal coil.
Some, on the other hand, were more stubborn.
"Papyrus, Cassandra speaking, how can I help you?"
"Hi, Miss Sandy, this is Harry Potter. Have you seen my grandma?"
It wasn't a prank call. Harry Potter was not so named by his parents—his real name is Christopher, but he is such a ringer for a young Daniel Radcliffe, the nickname was a given. His mom had grown up at the store and was continuing the tradition, but grandma—who had brought mom for many years when she was a child—had been in a nursing home for the past half decade. "No, honey. Should I have?"
"She ran away from home and they can't find her."
My jaw dropped. "You aren't pulling my leg, are you?"
"No, ma'am. She used to do it all the time when she first moved there, so they took away her wheelchair. Then she did her exercise classes, and she got stronger, so a couple of years later, they had to take away her walker. She just has her cane."
Ignoring the 'how,' I concentrated on the 'why.' "Okay… but why did you think she was coming here?"
"Well, they're checking all the stores around there—Walgreens and Target and stuff—but I remember she said she wanted the new Cat Who book."
"New one? Lillian Braun—"
"Yeah, I know, she's dead. So a new one to grandma wouldn't be at Target, it would be at a used bookstore, and grandma only would go to your store, so my parents are checking closer to the rest home but I figured I'd call you—"
Somebody has been studying his Hardy Boys. "Very good conclusion. But do you really think she could get here…?"
"Oh, sure. There's a Metro stop at the corner and it's a straight line to your place."
"Well, I'll certainly keep an eye out for her. How long has she been missing?"
"They think right after breakfast. They're not sure. Since she isn't crazy, they don't have her in the locked area. She's not crazy, she's bored." Out of the mouths of babes…
It was lunchtime. "I'll let you—" The bell over the door tinkled and I glanced up. "Uh, Harry? If you want to hang out your shamus shingle, I'll buy it for you. Tell you mom and dad to head over here. Grandma just walked in."
"Wow!"
"Hi, Shirley!" I called out, hanging up the phone. "Christopher told me you're looking for the new Lillian Braun book—you want paperback or hardback?"
"Hardback, please, dear. Large print if you have one?"
"I'll check. Your favorite chair is by the Plays and Poetry section—you want something to drink?"
"An orange soda would be lovely."
She headed off in the direction I was pointing and I followed behind to fetch the book and soda. It took effort to bite back my snickers. Shirley Ryan had been thwarted by the removal of her wheelchair and then her walker, but they couldn't keep her creativity down. She needed more stability than a cane, so she found a walker in her room and liberated it. It had sturdy bars, wheels—
—and a commode in the middle of the seat.
As I often say, old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill. Now you know who taught it to me!