Author's note:
Chapter 1 of 13. Thank you Tim413413 for selfless editing. Thank you Lori for talking me out of not throwing this away. If it sucks, at least I have someone to point at and say 'It's her fault.' That is too much pressure. If it sucks, it's my own fault.
*****
Treasure hunting is my favorite pastime. Some people like antiques, some cars and others collect stamps. I could think of no better way to spend my Saturday morning than digging through the scrap glass bins at Stained Life. Finding the perfect pieces was a challenge, especially when you didn't know what you were looking for. Ideas were always running through my head, most disappearing before my eyes saw the first piece of glass. Those ideas were weak. It was the ideas that came from the perfect piece of glass that actually saw cutters, foil and lead.
"Finding anything, Mark?" Tracy asked. She was a lovely, big woman. She lived to cut glass and specialized in tiffany-style lamp shades. Boring work to me, but her designs were unique and quite beautiful. She had owned Stained Life for the five years I had been coming in. Five years and one hundred hairstyles. This morning, I noticed she had run highlights through her straightened hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, cinched with a red ribbon. She had left a finger-thick set of strands on each side of her face. They curled perfectly and flowed to her chin. Though she was bigger than most men, the curls and her smile added a sweetness that made her approachable.
I recognized her question as rhetorical. She knew I didn't need any help. "I like the curls," I said, running my finger down the side of my face.
"Thank you," she said brightly, "I thought they might take a few years off." We had known each other long enough to say just about anything. We had never had cross words or even a small disagreement that I could remember.
"They're charming, Tracy," I said, smiling. I meant it. As a confirmed loner, she was probably the closest thing to a local friend I had. People usually irritated me, but not Tracy. We had something in common, stained glass, and little desire to involve ourselves in each other's lives. Friends, with no emotional commitment beyond the now. Always a pleasant visit and one of the reasons I gave her all my glass business.
"The Glassworx in Harburg went out of business," Tracy said, still a little flushed from my 'charming' comment. I liked making her happy. "I picked up their unsold inventory. If you want, you can have first dibs." My eyebrows went up of their own accord.
"Oh..I want," I said, with undisguised desire. Tracy smiled and waved me toward the storeroom. She had known my answer before she asked. The room was solid function. Shelves of inventory along one wall, and sturdy thick-legged tables down the other. Atop the tables were different sized boxes, obviously from a hasty move.
"That's all the glass," Tracy said, waving at the boxes, "careful, some of it may not have been packed well." She grabbed an empty box and handed to me. "Have fun." I thanked her as she left the storeroom.
The mother lode was before me. Undiscovered glass in cardboard treasure chests. Methodically, I started at the box all the way to the left. I wasn't going to miss a sheet. The first box was filled with scraps, leftover glass from projects or accidental breakage. I found wispy red scraps. Waves of white blended into the red by an invisible wind. Some were from the same sheet and others a slightly darker or lighter shade. The offsetting shades and delicate blends would look perfect. I saw soft flower petals in glass. Something I could definitely work with. I transferred the reds to my box.
The other boxes contained standard full panels. I ran across a gold-hued panel. The gold clouded into an almost rust color as it neared the edges. It gave depth if it was cut right. An image formed in my mind. Red flowers and a hummingbird with a golden breast.
I was deviating from my contract work. The images I was seeing didn't come with dollar signs. They were simply for my pleasure. I knew my paid work would suffer if I brought home the new glass, but I put it in my box anyway. They were perfect pieces. The obsession took over every now and again. My life was always better for it. Customers suffered in the delays, but happiness was important. I knew I would be cutting flower petals that night.
I spent a lot of time in the back room. I found a few streaky blue panels that would be perfect for wings. Other panels useful for contract work. Most weren't terribly different than what I could find out front. The olive greens I found were less translucent than I normally worked with. Slightly richer, leaning toward the opaque. They would make the flower vine contrast with the reds, gold and blues. It was late afternoon by the time I had gone through the last box. I had also set the contents so they were easier to examine for the next person - my present to Tracy.
I lumbered to the front with a fairly heavy box. Maybe fifty pounds of glass. My arms cradling the bottom so the glass wouldn't break through. Tracy smiled as I approached and cleaned off a section of the counter for me.
"You were back there for a while."
"Found some new stuff, my contract work will suffer, and I blame you."
"You love it," Tracy said as she began counting the sheets. It was very good glass and I figured I was in for quite a bill. "Five a panel okay?" I was surprised at her question. I don't think a single panel would be less than ten on sale.
"That seems awfully cheap," I said, worried she would be the next place out of business.
"Twice what I paid for it," Tracy said, "you've been with me for a few years. Think of it as a good customer discount with a healthy mark up for me."
"In that case, add some 3/16th copper foil, black back," I said, trying to pad the bill for her sake.
"One MIL?" Tracy asked. I nodded as I pulled out my wallet. She went to the back wall and pulled a pack off one of the pegs.
"Two packs, please," I added. Tracy complied and added two packs of foil to my box. "Thanks, Tracy." She smiled as she rang up my bill on the register. I handed her my credit card, very pleased with the price. A successful treasure hunt. Currently, the highlight of my year.
"I'll see you next week," I said as she opened the door for me.
"I'll look forward to it, Mark," Tracy said with a soft smile. There was a twinkle in her eye that made my face warm. It sounded more intimate than friendly. I wasn't sure how to respond so I didn't. She closed the door, unphased by my silence, as I exited supporting the box with both arms. That was the second time in two years, I felt she thought of me as more than just a customer. I was flattered, but women were a pain in the ass. I had a failed marriage to prove it. There was no way I was going to hop back on that horse. Sex was poor compensation for the misery of an unhappy relationship. Never again, I had promised myself. I looked down at my new glass and smiled. All the happiness I could ever need could be found in the box.
