While I was driving to an appointment in a section of town that was new to me, I passed this awesome store. I really needed another hand since my two are more than busy lately, what with the summer gardening. It would be perfect to leave an extra outside doing the weeding while I wrote with my regular pair…that is if the hired hand could be trained to work alone.
So with high hopes, I pulled into the parking lot, the converted front yard of an old house. Inside, I was disappointed to find the first floor filled with gaudy vintage clothing from the 70’s and a sign pointing upstairs stating “Second Hands.” Frowning, I asked the clerk, “I’m fine with my own first and second, so do you have any third hands for sale?”
She tilted her head and, without saying a word, turned on her heel and walked away.
A moment later, a tall, wiry woman approached and crooked a bony finger, directing me to follow her up the narrow staircase. The boards creaked under the weight of my steps, but at the top landing I spied what I came for….a glass display case with half a dozen hands, all resting quietly except for one that whirled its fingers in my direction to tap on the inside of the glass. As I reached up to unlock the case, the shop owner’s face lit with a wry smile and she asked, “Do you wish to have it wrapped?”