Madison Knight read her bank balance for the second time. Dead broke.
Until now, holidays in the Colorado Rocky Mountains had always been her favorite time of year, but that was before the money ran out—before facing eviction.
She didn't believe in windfalls, at least, not from long-lost relatives or lucky lottery numbers. Any serious chance of getting ahead came down to her New Year's bonus from Once Again Antiques. Today, December twenty-fourth, starting at nine a.m. until closing, twenty percent of all sales generated from the client wish list contributed to the bonus—if she held onto her job until New Year's. One more misstep, one more unsatisfied customer, and there’d be no ifs, ands, or buts—the owner, Savannah Charm, would terminate
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her employment. She slid a quilt over her shoulders and slumped back on the couch. Fresh snow swirled on the balcony, and a bitter north wind pounded the sliding glass door. On days like today, working from home was ideal, but it took discipline. Her morning latte remained untouched on the coffee table as did the hand weights next to the couch. Frustration had kept her from an earlier workout, and it was already nine a.m. A computer reminder caught her eye: December twenty-fourth - Happy Birthday Spencer. She pressed delete, remembering his betrayal—remembering their plans for a wedding that never happened. It still hurt and not long ago, she would’ve burst into tears. An upbeat Christmas tune blared from her cell phone. She set the laptop on the coffee table and tapped the phone’s speaker button. “Once Again Antiques. Madison Knight.” “Ms. Knight, this is Zachary Murdock.” With those few words, he had, by far, the sexiest phone voice she’d ever heard. “Yes?” she prompted, pushing her unruly locks behind her ears. “Savannah Charm directed me to you.” Madison sat up straight. It wasn’t unusual for her boss to refer customers with issues; troubleshooting, no matter how unpleasant, came with the job. “I sold a painting to your store, and I need it back.” His tone hinted at frustration. “I’m more than willing to pay double for its return.” “That’s an impressive offer, Mr. Murdock. Let me check our records.” She placed her phone next to the laptop, and as the inventory screen opened, her stomach muscles tightened bit by bit. Seller’s remorse represented an undesirable side of the business. Certain heirlooms were too precious to part with, and now and then the previous owner realized it too late. “My grandmother had an estate sale last week, and she didn’t want it sold, unfortu—” “Oh?” She should’ve kept quiet. Run-ins with greedy family members happened in the antique business, and a judging attitude didn’t increase revenues. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he said. “The day was chaotic, and someone had shuffled around the artwork. We didn’t realize it was missing until a couple of days ago, and it took this long to sort out the mix-up and discover your shop bought it.” She felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. “I see how that could happen. It’s obvious your grandmother treasured the piece. If it becomes necessary, we have additional resources to find a similar style. Is there a specific artist or significance?” Held hostage by the slow computer response and trying not to rush him, she picked up a hand weight, intending to fit in a few curls. “Keep in mind Gran’s ninety-two, and she thinks...” “Uh-huh.” With her free hand, she grabbed the latte and took a sip. “Gran thinks it holds a special power.” She chose that moment to swallow, and creamy espresso went down the wrong pipe. A dry, hacking cough followed, and she dropped her hand weight, which thudded on the carpet. For heaven’s sake, he didn’t hear her, did he? “Are you okay?” “Mmm. Pardon. My coffee...” She pressed mute, cleared her throat, and unmuted. “Please, excuse me.” What was this dribble on her keyboard? Latte drool. Mortified, she wiped her shirt over her chin. At least, he couldn’t see her. “Of course,” he said with unexpected politeness. “This whole incident has upset Gran, and I promised I’d do everything possible to have the artwork back to her by Christmas.” The account history appeared on her computer. “We’re in luck. Records show the canvas is still in our inventory.” “That’s a relief.” Even though he’d offered double for its return, she quoted their standard handling fee plus the original cost, which was an integrity thing. Besides, how many men would tell a stranger about a mystical connection? “I’m curious about those special powers.” “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll risk it.” She detected a slight falter in his voice. “Try me.” “Don’t forget, you asked.” He inhaled. “The short version is the painting has transported Gran to another time and back again.” Madison raised her brows. She wasn’t expecting that, but he deserved credit for trying to satisfy his elderly grandmother. “I can appreciate her imagination.” “Thanks for your understanding. Gran’s confused, but at her age, she’s entitled. As outrageous as her reason is for wanting the painting, I’m doing what I can to return it.” “Your Gran’s lucky.” She smiled—catastrophe solver and humanitarian. “Check or credit card?” While she waited for his card confirmation, a notion struck her—and no one would fault customer research. She dropped her fingers to the keyboard, typed Zachary Murdock and his address, and hit enter. To her amazement, a recent newspaper article about cattle breeding appeared, but far more interesting was the black and white photo. Damn, he had potential. Was it possible to fall in love with a cowboy in a grainy picture? Under his wide-brimmed Stetson, a five-o’clock shadow framed his face. He watched the camera with a teasing, almost playful expression—the kind that spelled trouble and left her breathless. She pegged him around thirty. “Hello?” Zach stretched the word, injecting a humorous emphasis. Heat rose to her face, and her pulse soared. “Thanks for waiting. May I...may I add you to our mailing list?” “Sure.” “Shall I address it to Mr. and Mrs.?” “I’m not married.” She tapped her feet in a little jig.
“Should we ship to your home address?”
“I prefer to pick it up in person.”
“Okay then.” She read off a confirmation number.
“After all this, I owe you.”
His voice, smooth as a caress, left a trail of goosebumps on her arms.
“It’s my pleasure. Our website also lists additional details.” She wanted to tell him to click on the employee icon, but it might sound too bold.
“I’ve seen it, and by the way, you have a great smile. I’ll pick the painting up at noon.”
He sounded like he was flirting, but she couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was the friendly type. She checked the Roman numerals on her trendy wristwatch. “Mr. Murdock, thank you. Noon works for us.”
“Please, it’s Zach. Let me thank you. How about lunch?”
“I’d enjoy lunch, but I can’t.” Was he asking for a date or a business meeting? If it was the latter, he’d expect her to pay for her meal and an expensive dinner wasn’t in her budget.
“Rain check?”
Strangers, regardless of how handsome, didn’t fit into her dating categories. Still, she had his credit card number, address, and a picture. Didn’t that change his status to an acquaintance? “We’ll see.”
“Not good enough.”
“All right, rain check. Take care out there in this snow.”
“Will
do.” The call ended, and no longer cold, she tossed her quilt aside. A dinner date might be just what she needed to get out of this breakup funk. Would Zach call again after the holidays? A lot of guys offered lighthearted invitations with no intentions of following up. But dwelling on relationships wouldn’t pay her rent. She picked up the company wish list and scanned each item from the highest to lowest bids. Back in October, Savannah had opened the list for qualified clients who agreed to buy collectibles within their bid range. Most wishes had been fulfilled, and those remaining came from Christmas procrastinators who’d settled for a later delivery date. Although her focus kept drifting to Zach, she combed several online auction sites for a nineteenth-century china table. Fifteen minutes later, music interrupted her quest. The cell phone showed Once Again Antiques. “Hi, it’s Savannah. I’m taking off for vacation. Any problems?” “None.”
I was sitting with my friend, Pistol on one of the bucking shoots watching the barrel race.
savings on making a dinner for Chinh. When planning for the party, their neighbor Vi, told
At the beginning of a story, Jackson presents Mrs. Hutchinson a devotee to the old tradition. When Mrs. Hutchinson comes hurriedly to participate in the lottery, she seems very excited. When she arrived little late and said, “Clean forgot what day it was”, the people nearby her laughed softly (Jackson 904-905). Even though she didn’t arrive at the lottery holding place on time she couldn’t reject or unfollow the tradition. ...
Have you ever looked off a gigantic cliff? Now imagine traveling 30 miles per hour on a bike with curvy roads with enormous cliffs on your side with no rails. This is exactly what I did with my family when we went to Colorado. From the hotel we drove to a bike tour place to take us to the summit of Pikes Peak. After we arrived at the building we saw pictures of how massive the cliffs were, but what terrified me was the fact they had no side rails. This observation was thrilling as well as terrifying. It was an odd mix of emotions, but I loved the adrenaline rush it gave me. My dad whispered to me, “ This will be absolutely horrifying”.
I can hear the hum of taxi cabs whizzing past me as I stand on the corner of the busy downtown street. New York City! I still can't believe that I'm here or that I'm staying here. Aunt Allison was so sweet to let me live in her place whilst she travels around south America. I step out onto the road when the traffic light changed from green to red.
“Afternoon, it’s a partial print, but a good one. It’s from a Rachel Meadows. She’s in the system due to some prior government work.”
I am Moe Iba, the assistant coach and recruiter for the Texas Western Miners basketball team. This being my first job since finishing college, I've been ambitious and ready for any task thrown at me. Or so I thought. About a year and a half ago, both Head Coach Don Haskins and I joined this program at the same time, and we faced many financial problems which made it impossible to recruit anyone to our school. All the decent players wanted to play for a well known team, and Texas Western hasn't been heard of for years. I was feeling hopeless, but Coach Haskins had an idea that would change basketball forever: He wanted me to go out and recruit seven black basketball players. Recruiting black players in the middle of the 1960s? Surely this
Located in the popular Yosemite National Park, Yosemite Falls is the tallest waterfall in California. Every year, mother nature’s breathtaking beauty attracts millions of people from around the world. People hike for three long and fatiguing hours in anticipation of witnessing forceful water rushing down the steep mountain from 2,425 feet above. Last summer, my family and I backpacked through the Yosemite Falls Trail and I came to learn what a truly exhausting experience it is.
In the heart of Yosemite National Park, surrounded by towering redwoods, I began a journey that left an indelible mark on my soul. It was a golden summer morning, the sun shone warmly on desert rocks and green meadows. As I set out on the misty path, the roar of distant waterfalls filled the air and reflected the granite walls. Each step revealed a new sight: the colorful spray of Bridalveil Fall, the cool touch of the Merced River, and the smell of pine needles under my feet. I was not alone in this majestic landscape.
When Tessie arrived late to the lottery, she simply said, “[Nearly] forgot what day it was” to a friend, and they both “laughed softly.” In a situation where ones husband or child could die within the next hour, it doesn’t seem sane that two women can joke about the situation. To these townspeople, the lottery is just another thing to do, something to get out of the way. Shortly after Tessie’s late arrival, Mr. Summers tranquilly says “guess we better get started, get this over with, so’s we can go back to work.”
“Thank you!” my mom and I say. We start to walk to the check out area.
“I want to be more than friends.” She stared blankly at him for a while. She didn't know how to respond to that. Did she like him back?
The amount she is given changes yearly based on sales, and she explained how she pretend she has about $1000 less to work with each year to make sure she stays within it, only using that last $1000 if she needs it. I thought that was an interesting tactic and very smart too, since she gets a bonus if she stays below her budget. Going back to an earlier question she commented on that working with a sometimes small budget was also a big challenge for her job. But what if a customer asked her order something special for them, I was curious what she would do in that situation. Kate replied that she is sometimes unable to do so, depending on how much of her budget she’s met already and if that customer is a regular or not, because they may only come in once and never buy the thing they ask for again.
Spring days and summer days and all sorts of days that would be her own.
One of the most enjoyable things in life are road trips, particularly to the Colorado mountains. Getting to spend time with your family and friends, while being in a beautiful place, is irreplaceable. The fifteen-hour road trip may feel never-ending, but gazing at the mountains from afar makes life’s problems seem a little smaller and causes worries to become a thing of the past. Coming in contact with nature, untouched, is a surreal experience. My family trip to the Colorado mountains last summer was inspiring.