But something made her stop at the door. She scanned the sandwich shop and saw several customers look up at her with curiosity or concern, and then one little old lady in the corner smiled at her and nodded. Not like a little nod of acknowledgement. No. A big nod like, “Baby, go for it!”
Presley Ann slowly turned and sauntered back with as much sex appeal as she could muster. She snagged the old man’s attention with her smile, reached for his large fountain drink, and dumped it on his crotch as she said, “Just relax and enjoy it, babe. You know you like it.” She set the cup back on his table with a loud bang.
Not about to be run out of the shop, she walked up to the counter and slid a couple of bucks across to the employee who gaped at her.
“It’s not much, but I wanted to make up for the mess you’ll have to mop up.” She smiled at him, and his surprised expression transformed into a smile as he looked around the room.
People were cheering and clapping for her, while the creepy man was bitching and yelling at the employee to get some towels. “You go, Mom!” someone called from behind her and heat filled her face as she grabbed her sweet tea from the table she’d vacated and walked to the front door, actually giggling.
So the little devil on her shoulder had won today. Shaking from the adrenaline rush, she walked carefully down the sidewalk and her heart sped up as someone called out to her.
“Miss! Oh miss! Please wait!”
All she wanted was to get Whit someplace that she could calm him down, and compose herself, too.
“I’m so glad I caught you,” the elderly lady from inside the sandwich shop said, a little breathlessly, making Presley Ann feel bad about not waiting for her. “Oh dear, you gave that asshole a taste of his own medicine, now didn’t you?”
“Well, yes. I guess,” she replied as she held Whit to her, while easing him out of the sling without looking down. The lady was still there, an expectant look on her face as she watched Presley Ann’s every move, making her a little suspicious. What now?
“I can’t help but notice how comfortable you are with him in that sling. Can you tell me where you got it?”
Looking down at the stretchy patterned fabric of the sling, she said, “I made it.”
“My name is Shirley Finch. I own four Sunday Haus Handmade Homegoods in Central Texas and the Hill Country. I carry all locally-made and crafted items in my shops, and I’ve been looking to expand the baby items departments. You say you made that?”
Presley Ann introduced herself and said, “Yes, ma’am. And I’m planning to make more to sell. Could I interest you in becoming my customer? I’m looking for a way to supplement my income for me and my son.” It would be fantastic if she could work for herself and not need to leave Whit in daycare, or at least not as often.
The lady tilted her head and nodded in commiseration. “I was widowed young. Rather than working for someone else, I chose to be self-employed. I know firsthand that when you make your own way it can be a scary, yet wonderful, thing.”
Presley Ann nodded, a blush heating her cheeks again. “Yes, ma’am. I was in San Antonio today, buying an industrial sewing machine for just that purpose.”
“Ah. That sounds to me like you’re committed. If you have a few minutes to spare, I’d love to show you my shop. It’s just right down this way.” She pointed to a storefront display window. The sign above the door read, “The Sunday Haus Handmade Homegoods.” It fit right into the rough white limestone face of the upscale strip mall.
Presley Ann could practically see Leah’s face and hear her voice. “If you don’t go for this, you’ll regret it. Trust your instincts. They’re better than you think.”
“I can spare a few minutes,” she said as she slipped Whit back into his sling.
“We’ll get you warmed up in my shop, and I can show you around. Oh, don’t forget to lock up your car, dear. This is a nice neighborhood, but not that nice.”
Embarrassed, Presley Ann turned back and locked the doors and set the alarm with the remote. She shook her head, wondering why someone would want to do business with someone so easily distracted and forgetful. When she’d talked to Emma about it while she was pregnant, Emma had told her that she bore some of the markers for ADD but she hadn’t pursued the issue because she didn’t want to take medications if she could do without them.
Mrs. Finch drew her into the cozy holiday atmosphere of her shop. She smiled as she turned in a circle, taking in the smorgasbord of handmade goods surrounding her. Even at that time of the day, on a weekday, the store was alive with activity and shoppers getting last minute Christmas shopping done.