Uh-oh. Sarah winced at the idea that the man was going to reciprocate, and prayed that whatever emerged was-
He held out a hanger.
She reached out and accepted it. It was one of those old wooden hangers, with the metal rod that reinforced the wood. It felt warm and smooth under her fingertips, and she caught a faint hint of cedar.
She looked back at the man, intending to say “Thank you.” But he was already shoving the cart past her shop, mumbling something, intent on his own business.
So Sarah went back in, and put the hanger on one of the empty racks, right by the counter. She gathered her own coat and purse and shut off the lights. The man and his cart was into the next block when she stepped out into the snow and headed for her car.
Intent on bubble bath and book, she drove off into the night.
Sarah overslept the next morning; thankfully, Pam had opened the store on time. Pam was chewing gum and bent over the counter, looking over one of those gossip rags, when Sarah rushed in with coffee and the paper. Sarah nodded and said “Morning” as she headed toward the office door, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt for being late.
There was a ball gown hanging from the rack. On the hanger. It was a lovely low cut blue silk, with a full gathered skirt.
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. “Where did that come from?”
Pam opened her mouth, but the chime on the door made them both turn and look. Two women, stylish and made up to perfection entered. Sarah’s brain was processing the cost of their labels when the first one spoke.
“Good morning! I’m looking for a vintage-”
The other woman squealed. “Look!”
Stunned, Sarah watched as they descended on the dress.
“It’s my size!”
“It’s perfect for you!” One reached for the paper price tag that hung from a small ribbon off the dress. She nudged the other to look at the tag.
“I want it.” The first woman announced.
Pam stood up right and reached for one of the longer garment bags. The woman dug out a credit card and placed it on the counter.
Sarah still stood there, coffee in one hand, paper and purse in the other. One of the women gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll be back, if you get in more treasures like this!”
“That will be $1,590.00. With tax.” Pam murmured. The credit card zipped through the machine.
Money worries temporarily forgotten, Sarah still stood there, stunned.
Pam denied all knowledge of the dress, claiming that it had been hanging there when she’d walked in. Sarah had her doubts, of course, but Pam wasn’t the type to do something on her own initiative, that was for sure. Sarah decided that someone was trying to help her, except that no one had a key, or access to that kind of dress, that she knew of.
But then it happened again.
And again.
Each morning, Sarah would open the store, to find a garment hanging from the hanger. Each time someone would come in that day, looking for that particular garment, cheerfully paying the price on the tag.
A business suit.
A sun dress.
A leather jacket.
A wet suit.
The prices varied, the clothing varied, but without fail the hanger had something suspended from it every morning, a small paper price tag dangling in front.
Sarah couldn’t figure it out. She had the locks changed, she set up a security camera. But the camera didn’t work and the clothing kept appearing. As did customers, new ones who became repeat ones, who brought clothes to consign, who came back and bought other clothes.
Within a month Sarah was in the black.
Within six months, she had back inventory and Pam was full-time. She could be pickier now, setting aside the older and worn items to donate to the Salvation Army.
During this time Sarah became a bit superstitious. She forbade Pam to touch the hanger, and left it on the rack in all its glory. Pam, of course, just shrugged. She didn’t seem to notice or care about anything other than her paycheck.
And the clothes kept coming.
A christening gown of linen and lace.
A slinky little black dress.
A XXXL wedding dress, with veil and slippers. Sarah waited all day to see who would show up for that one.
And sure enough, close to the end of the day, in walked a large woman with her groom-to-be. She fit the dress perfectly. And never blinked at the price. Once the sale was made and Pam had left for the day, Sarah stood in front of the rack and stared at the hanger.
“I don’t suppose you could find me a man? I’m not fussy, although I prefer brown eyes to blue.”
The hanger just hung there in silence.
Sarah laughed, and shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m grateful for the clothes and the help.” She eyed the hanger seriously. “But it won’t last forever, will it?”
The hanger remained silent.
And so it went.
Sarah’s Closet became the in place to shop, with both the society crowd and the young people looking for bargains. Sarah had enough stock that she was starting to think about the Internet, getting a website, and putting pictures of the clothing on-line. But something deep within made her hesitate. “Nothing good lasts forever” echoed in the depths of her brain. “Wait and see” was another thought. After all, magic never lasted, now did it? In all those stories. She took the prudent and cautious route.
So she wasn’t really surprised the morning she opened the shop, a year and a day later, to find that there was nothing on the hanger.
The cold air and snow blew in as she stood there in the doorway, staring at the rack. It was indeed empty, swaying slightly in the draft.
She stomped the snow off her boots, stepped in, and let the door close behind her.
A year and a day.
It had been a year and a day since she’d seen that odd man and given him a coat. He’d handed her the hanger in exchange, a more than fair exchange for the magic that it had brought with it.
Magic that had saved her dreams.
Sarah sighed, mild disappointment flowing through her like a wave. She’d expected it, but it still hurt. It had been a wonderful year, and she was in good shape financially. The store would still need hard work, but she knew that she could make it, after this year.
The magic was over and done.
But to see the hanger just… hanging there…
It hurt.
She sighed, and went about the day.
Business was brisk in the morning, but the snow kept falling all day, large wet flakes. Customers slowed to a trickle, and the radio spoke of businesses closing early. Sarah let Pam go home and settled behind the counter and watched the snow. She tried to ignore the hanger, which was still on the rack.
Once or twice it occurred to Sarah to pack it in and treat herself to a bubble bath, but she had the oddest sense of waiting, as if something was going to happen.
There were no more customers, and the only call she got was from the Salvation Army, asking if she had anything to be picked up. She said she did, and they’d be by shortly.
Sarah’d wait for the truck and then close the store and go home. Yes, a bubble bath, that new hardbound romance she’d just bought, some General Tso’s from the Chinese place next door. Good plan for a snowy night.
The Salvation Army truck pulled up; it was the regular guy, so he went in back and carried out the box crammed full of clothing. He set it down on the floor and handed Sarah the clipboard with the paperwork. She signed off, and he put it under his arm and reached back down.
When he lifted the box up, the hanger was tucked in among the clothes.
Sarah darted a look at the rack, and sure enough, her hanger wasn’t there. She looked back as the man headed for the door.
She could just see the wooden corner of the hanger, as if it were waving goodbye over his shoulder. It seemed right somehow. Fitting, even.