He walked right up to the counter, a woman following him, dashing my faint hope that he just liked to bring music with him when he shopped.
"Miss? I'd like to return this ukulele."
"Is there something wrong with it? I'm sure, with a little practice—"
The woman with him pushed him aside and aimed a wild-eyed stare at me. "No! Please, for the love of Bach, no more practicing."
I winced. "That bad?"
"Actually, I'm pretty good," the guy said, sounding a little offended. "It's just that it turns out I hate ukulele music."
I couldn't argue with that.
"Thank you," the woman mumbled. "Now can we go back to the hotel in Orlando and get some sleep?"
She turned to me. "He was up all night playing that stupid thing. I was ready to beat him over the head with it by four in the morning."
I couldn't think of a suitable response that wouldn't be rude to the guy, so I just nodded and tried to mentally project sympathy.
The musician, who'd been glancing around the shop while his girlfriend talked to me, suddenly lit up. "Hey! Do you have any accordions? I've always wanted to try that!"
His girlfriend and I both stared at him.
"Um, no, I don't have any—"
"That's it," his girlfriend shrieked. "That's it! I'm done! I put up with the piano. The drums, even though the neighbors complained. I put up with theFrench horn.But now—after an entire night of ukulele—you want to learn theaccordion?"
He looked nonplussed. "Well, I thought the didgeridoo might be a bit much."
The truly awful part: He wasn't joking.
He wasn't joking.
Now Eleanor, the girlfriend, and I were all three standing there staring at him.
"The DIDGERIDOO? You're an IDIOT!" She suddenly yanked a very nice diamond ring off her finger, threw it at him, and stalked out the door, leaving us staring after her this time.
The guy who'd caught the ring gave me a sheepish smile. "It's her car, so I guess I'll have to call a friend to come get me. But in the meantime, how much can I get for this ring?"
After he wandered off to look at what other musical instruments I had, the music box appeared for the first time since the accident, popping out of thin air onto the countertop.
Eleanor shrieked and swatted it with the feather duster.
"Lost in Emotion."
She looked at me. "What the heck?"
"Don't ask. It's Fae magic."
"This Magic Moment."
* * *
The rest of the morning was steady. I took several items in pawn,notincluding the diamond ring—I tried to avoid drama/impulse pawns and sales—and sold some small items, some jewelry, and an antique teapot shaped like an armadillo which was only slightly magical, in that it would never let your tea get cold.
Since this was basically the same level of magic as, say, a thermal cup, I didn't worry about selling it.
Eleanor and I ate a quick lunch of sandwiches she'd brought and looked at wedding magazines in between customers. I was happy that her idea of a wedding dress was classic and beautiful, so I didn't have to pretend to have raptures over something that looked like a straightjacket or a gown Little Bo Peep had once modeled.
