FEBRUARY 5, 1860

He saw her walk in full of spit and vinegar, and his breath caught in his chest. Desiree was a well mannered woman, most times, but don't get on her bad side.

"Mister Cromwell," she said approaching the counter.

He smiled as politely as he could. "Afternoon, Desiree. How can I help you?"

She placed the box on the counter with a *humph* "Look inside here, Simon. Tell me what's wrong."

Carefully, he opened the cardboard box. Mixed in with the tissue paper and packing material was fragments of gray china.

"This was to be a gift for a friend back home! I opened it, and that's what I got!" She ranted, as he went carefully through the box. "What am I going to do now?"

Simon ran his hand through his graying hair. He'd have to talk with the supplier. "I'm very sorry, Desiree," he apologized, placing the fine china fragments back inside. "Of course, I'll replace it."

Defiantly, she put her hands on her hips. "And you'll give me my money back!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Now, Desiree . . . "

"Simon, this was a very valuable piece."

He sighed. "Fine, half the cost as a store credit, and you get your merchandise replaced."

Desiree smiled, finally satisfied. "Have a good day, Mister Cromwell."

He watched her leave. Grumbling, he reached under the desk and pulled out his ledger. Quickly, he scribbled: Desiree: $5.00 credit.