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.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
