These Granite Islands: A Novel

Chapter 9

CHAPTER N I N E (~ath'yn,Snew wate,colou", we'e no long" of cemembered hats, but Isobel's own creations, painted in crisp detail, but with one side fading into shadow or simply unfinished, so that the hats seemed to be emerging from the thick watercolour paper by magic. The faces of the models were regally simple, drawn with only a few strokes of black ink to define a profile; a curving lip, one closed lid, the sweep of a cheek. As a surprise, Isobel had six of the paintings framed in slim walnut. She smuggled them into the shop one morning and hung them over the register. Cathryn came in just as she was climbing down from the ladder, hammer in hand. Isobel gazed up at the display. "Don't they look nice all fitted out and hung like that?" These Granite Islands "Qui! Tres, tres chic, madame." She skipped over to Isabel and crushed her in a hug, kissing her on both cheeks. On the pavement outside a man passed, movement inside the store momentarily catching his eye. He did not slow his gait but turned just long enough to glimpse two women through the wavering glass. Their backs to the window, the women stepped back in a seemingly choreographed motion, both raising their left arms at the same time as if to indicate something on the wall. One of the women held a hammer. Their arms dropped simultaneously and they both cocked their heads slightly. The man smiled and quickly moved on. A large carton with Cathryn's name on it arrived at the shop, but Isabel could not get her to open it. "It's a sur-prise," Cathryn sang, dancing around the carton. When Isabel reached out to run a finger along its edge. Cathryn slapped her hand away, clucking, "If you're naughty, Izzy, I'll send it ba-ack." The carton sat in the storage hall until Isabel forgot about it. The shelves began to fill with hats. They transferred a dozen of them to the window, stepping in and out the front door several times to view the display from the sidewalk, making sure the hats were aligned at proper angles, and separating those that clashed. Cathryn hung pale blue tags on each and priced them with green ink. "Green for summer." Isabel read the tags and gasped. "For greed, you mean. Cathryn, these prices are far too high. I can't possibly ask so much. Who would buy them?" "No one. They'd be crazy if they did. Listen, here's what you do. You price them high and make sure the tags are visible from outside. Women window-shop. It's simple psychology. We all covet what we cannot afford, right?" Isabel crossed her arms. "I'm listening." - I43 - Sarah Stanich "You leave a set of these overpriced hats in the window for a while and then you have a big sale, mark everything forty or even fifty percent off. The good ladies of Cypress will stampede in, buy hats at a fair price, and walk out thinking they've gotten the bargain of their lives. It's a snap. Three or four seasonal sales each year, and in the times between, it will be very, very peaceful around here." Isobel clapped her hands. "And the rest of the time I could just work?" "Exactly." The display in the window was slow to draw attention. Isobel noticed that only a few women passing stopped at the window. Some came to a full stop and openly examined the hats, but none came in to browse. Isobel felt defeated. "I've spent so much money." She moaned. "It's only been a few weeks, Isobel." Cathryn's cheerfulness didn't buoy her. "I suppose I could take out an ad." It wasn't long before the first hat sold. The portly wife of a mine supervisor came in and pointed to a netted cap she had admired in the window. She was given a mirror and fussed over by Cathryn, who affected a French accent as she placed the hat on the matron's head with a flourish. The woman turned left and right. "It is quite pretty, isn't it?" "Qui, madame. Mizz Isobel, she's an artiste, no?" The woman smiled broadly at her fat image. "I'll take it." "Exzellent choice! Un moment, madame." Cathryn...