Tangled Memories by Jackie Weger

Author:Jackie Weger [Weger, Jackie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Written Musings

9

“Good grief!” exclaimed Noreen Byers as Stormy unbagged the items she’d brought for the group. “Cheesecake from the best bakery in town and fresh strawberries—which I happen to know are selling for top dollar at the moment. You must’ve had a wingding of a weekend.”

“If I tell you how well I did, you won’t think I’m boasting, will you? I’m still in kind of an adrenaline rush.”

“When you come to this group,” chimed Thelma, “one of your prerogatives is that you’re allowed to boast.”

Stormy told them, and the women gaped.

Noreen was the first to recover. “You’re not joking, are you?”

Stormy pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. “No joke. I’m stunned myself. I still have a lot to learn, though. And I have run into a snag.”

“What snag?” teased Noreen. “You need help to carry the cash to the bank?”

“No. But help is the operative word.”

“That’s what we’re here for. Fire away.”

“I could use another pair of hands.”

Sandy, who had been sitting quietly, lifted her head. “I need some part-time work.”

Stormy scrutinized the other woman. Sandy didn’t look as sad and scared as she had last week, but she didn’t look exactly happy, either. “You didn’t get custody of your children?”

“No,” the woman said in a painfully soft voice. “But I can have them every other weekend, every other holiday, and four weeks in the summer.”

“That’s a beginning,” Janice said consolingly. “For a first skirmish in court, I’d say it was a victory.”

Sandy managed a smile. “It is. I know it is.” She looked at Stormy. “Now I need to make more money. The lawyer said if I wanted more time with the kids, I’d have to prove I’m able to provide for them. I can work evenings, and the weekends that I don’t have the kids. I don’t care what I’m doing, as long as it’s legal.”

“What I need is someone to work yard sales to buy up inventory,” Stormy told her. “I can’t manage to work the sales and the flea market at the same time. And weekends are when people hold the best yard sales. You’ll have to have the nerve to bargain prices down, though.”

Sandy straightened in her seat and said with spirit, “Just watch me—I’ll have people practically giving me the stuff!”

Everyone laughed with delight.

“I can’t pay you a salary, though, because I can’t guarantee sales.”

Sandy looked startled. “I won’t be paid by the hour?”

“Nope, you’ll be a contract worker. We’ll write up a contract that details what expenses I’ll reimburse, like gasoline and, of course, I’ll provide the upfront money to buy the toys.”

“But how do I make any money?”

“You’ll receive a percentage of net sales. Say ten percent. If you wash and repair the things you buy so that all I have to do is market them, I’ll pay you twenty percent.”

Sandy paled. “Of what you made? That would be—”

“Not quite,” Stormy cut her off. “That would be twenty percent of my gross. Don’t forget expenses—renting the space, cash to buy the inventory.

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