Down from the Mountain by Elizabeth Fixmer Read Free Book Online Page A

talking about, but I like the word so I repeat it in my head: retro . At least she said it with a smile, like it was something good.
    “If you’re interested,” she says, “you could take a look at our jewelry display right over there.” Marcy points to three glass cases above the cash register. “It may give you some ideas if you need any. Also we have classes so you could learn to make some of these if you wanted.”
    I follow her to the cases. The bead combinations are beautiful—mostly of stones I’ve never seen before. One combines clear crystals and deep blue stones that the sign refers to as lapis. Another combines a stone bead called hematite with rose quartz and lots of silver beads in between.
    “Can you tell me what these numbers mean?” I ask Marcy, who has returned with a sheet showing the class schedule the store offers. I’m referring to the two sets of numbers under each piece of jewelry.
    “Sure. The top number is the suggested retail price, and the bottom number is what it costs to make.”
    “What?” I know it makes me sound dumb, but I want to understand.
    She looks mildly surprised but explains anyway. “Retail is how much you’d charge for it, while cost is how much it costs to make it using our supplies. The difference is your profit.”
    I go from one jewelry piece to the next with this new little formula. Retail minus cost equals profit.
    I look up to see Rachel approaching. She’s picked up several magazines with jewelry designs. “Rachel, have you seen these?” I ask.
    “Sure,” she says. “But most of them are more than we can afford, and people don’t want to spend that much at farmers’ markets and flea markets.”
    “Who told you that?” Marcy asks.
    Rachel swings around to face Marcy.
    “I don’t mean to be rude,” Marcy continues. “But people in this town love nicer jewelry and think of the flea markets as an opportunity to get higher-end stuff for less. I think that if you can make this stuff and make it well, you’ll be able to sell it at high-end prices. You may even find that people commission certain pieces at the flea market and farmers’ markets.”
    “Really?”
    Rachel seems truly surprised. But the supplies are so much more expensive.
    Encouraged, I start going down the line. “This one sells for eighty dollars and the materials cost thirty-eight dollars, so that’s over a fifty percent profit. We only make a few dollars’ profit on the cheaper ones.”
    “That’s true. But we’d need a lot of money to make such a big change,” Rachel says.
    “You could always space these with less expensive beads,” Marcy says. “Look at how many pieces of jewelry combine different types of beads.” She glances at the line that’s formed by the cash register and excuses herself to assist those customers.
    “Couldn’t we give it a try?” I must sound like a begging child. And I’m not sure why this is so important to me, but I actually long to work with the gemstones, especially the pearls and rose quartz that I just now realize I’m still holding.“It wouldn’t take us any longer to make a necklace out of gemstones than it takes to make them out of wood or plastic or ceramic beads, and if we make more money …”
    “Mother Esther would never go for it,” Rachel says.
    “No, I would not,” Esther says as she approaches us. She holds a basket filled with plastic and wooden beads, cord, fish wire, and clasps. “I’m going to sit over there while you two finish up.” She points to a comfortable-looking chair on the opposite side of the room. “Put the gemstones back, Eva. I told you that. We can talk about all this later.”
    I avoid the gem shelf and find myself clutching the stones harder than before. I can’t put them back. It makes no sense, but somehow they speak to me, and I want them badly.
    Get on with it , I command myself, but it’s Ezekiel’s voice that I hear in my head.
    I reach to hang up the rose quartz in obedience, but