If even Hiya-Naomi could tell she was stressed, customers would be able to tell too, and that would hurt her business

Her feet were killing her.

I own a shoe store. Laya slammed a return on the counter and glared at it. There is no excuse for my feet to be killing me. She scanned the racks of shoes, trying to figure out if she had to list the returns on her sale rack, and then glanced down at her footwear: Cole Haan wedges. She had bought these shoes for comfort, for heaven’s sake.

Maybe it was just stress. The first of the month was always stressful; that’s when tuition was due. And the 15th was stressful because that’s when they paid the mortgage, and the 25th was stressful because that’s when they paid the car loans. Laya closed her eyes. She didn’t need more shoes. She needed more money.

The door chime jangled. Laya opened her eyes.

“Hiya,” Naomi said. She was holding a Tziptoes bag with a shoebox inside. Laya’s heart sank.

“Hiya,” she replied, unconsciously repeating the odd greeting. She colored.

Naomi smiled. “I always say, the Memphis is contagious!” She placed the shoebox on the counter.

“Sale shoes are final sale,” Laya said automatically.

“Oh.” Naomi blinked. “I hadn’t realized.” She dithered for a minute, then looked up, searching Laya’s face.

Do not ask me to make an exception because we’re neighbors. Laya’s lips tightened. This was not going to help her business.

Naomi’s face changed. “Is something wrong?”

Laya swallowed. “Nah… uh, tough morning, you know how it goes.”

“I know.” Naomi’s voice was gentle and sympathetic.

Ugh. “Nothing like that,” Laya said hastily. “I— just— my feet are killing me.”

Naomi burst out laughing. “Think of another excuse, Mrs. Shoe Store,” she said. “You’re just stressed out. What you need is an extra-large hazelnut coffee with whipped cream. I’ll be back.” She trotted out the door.

If even Hiya-Naomi could tell she was stressed, customers would be able to tell too, and that would hurt her business. Laya tried to breathe deeply.

There were finger marks on the door where Naomi had pushed it open. Laya walked over to the door and began rubbing them away. She glanced toward the empty store next door. If only a women’s evening-wear boutique would move in… that would leave her shoe store perfectly placed, maybe she would even leave some shoes strategically placed in the dress store. Take that, tuition committee.

“Hi, Laya!”

Chaykie waved as she reached the gym and inserted her key. “How’s it going?”

“Great!” Laya said it brightly. “I was just thinking about the vacancy.” She gestured to the empty storefront between them. “I still think we could use a ladies evening-wear boutique around here. A high-end boutique — I mean, another high-end boutique — would drive business for the rest of us. But I know what you think,” she said, a little bitterly.

“No, it’s okay.” Chaykie raised two arms in defeat. “You’re right, of course. I hope it works out.” She pulled open the glass door to the studio but made no move to enter. “You okay?”

She was losing it. Laya stretched a smile across her face. “Fine,” she said. “Just a little stressed. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

It was 10 a.m.

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 657)