Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to a picture prompt. I’m working on a series of short stories to be released in the fall. This I the beginning of one that takes place in a jewelry store.

check out the other tales here

Siobhan Connery stood behind the jewelry counter, placing the tray of engagement rings back in the case and locking it. The young couple who just left reminded her of her sister and her husband to be. Cute and so clearly in love that people smiled just by being in their presence. One of the many reasons she loved her job was how everyone who came in the store was looking for something to either commemorate an occasion or to gift to someone they loved. 

Her last job of working at the county jail as the receptionist allowing in visitors was super depressing. 

When the chance to work at her uncle’s Jewelry store came up, she leapt at it. Little did she know how much she would love being in the store and learning about the gems and precious metals. Her dream now was to be a certified gemologist. 

Her uncle didn’t really have time to give her the proper education in all the various skills needed to get the certification as he was more interested in his bottom line profit on a day to day basis than training her. She saved as much as she could toward taking the year or so off that she would need in order to actually attend one of the institutes that offered a course. 

Once she had that, she could pick any kind of job in the field. She could even be an appraiser or work for an antiquarian jeweler. That idea intrigued her. 

The store wasn’t busy at the moment, so she took the opportunity to wander to the back where the two jewelry repairmen worked. Of course, one was a woman but that was what her uncle called them so she did as well. To the customers, that was. 

This week’s word prompt for the writers of Tuesday Tales is pillow. I’m working on a series of short stories to be released in the fall of 2023. This story is about a brother and sister pop duo who have been estranged and broken up for several years. They are cutting a record together but separately in her home studio.

check out the other tales here.

Mickey slapped his hands on his thighs. “No time like the present.”

Startled, she gulped too fast and scalded her throat with the hot liquid. “What?” 

“He’s downstairs.”

“You brought him in my house while I was gone? Before asking me?” Rage threatened to boil over. 

He held his hands up in surrender. “He wanted to come do the track. I let him, knowing you were out. He’d just finished when we heard you opening the gates. No nefarious plan. If you don’t want to do it now, you can head upstairs and I’ll walk him out.”

Nervous but a bit glad she didn’t have to dread the meeting for several days, Noel  shrugged. “Might as well get it over with.”

“What kind of attitude is that?” 

“The one I have, Mickey. You sideswiped me and you’re questioning my attitude?”

He had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry. Sorry.”

She knew he’d been her biggest supporter as she’d navigated life without her twin, but she wasn’t happy with him in this moment. “Let’s do this.” She punched one of the bland white throw pillows on the bland white couch on her way past. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you I’m redecorating.” 

Mickey glanced over his shoulder at her. “Finally tired of the sterile look?”

“Yeah. It’s past time to put my own mark on this house.”

I am finished with my NaNoWriMo story and have started on a short story for an anthology. This is close to the beginning of the story. Since we’re writing to a picture prompt, we’re limited to 300 words.

Check out the other tales here

Patting the dashboard, Otto said, “Look there, old boy. A tree full of pears, ripe and ready to pick.” He shook his head. “Shame whoever owns it is letting them fall to the ground and rot. Let’s see if they’ll let me have a few.”

He knew he had a suitable box stowed in the bed. As a chef who liked to cook with fresh fruits and vegetables in season, he was always alert to opportunities to score some goodies for the hotel where he served as executive chef. “Poached pears, pear chutney, pear tarte Tatin, cobbler or even my famous braided raspberry and pear bread. It’s hard to choose which to do but I have to get permission to pick them first.”

Otto was sure people would think he was crazy talking to his truck, but since he’d lost his wife and child in an accident several years prior, he hadn’t found anyone to share his life and being silent all the time when he wasn’t at work had begun to wear on him.

He pulled into the dirt driveway of the old farmhouse and approached the door, dodging the chickens who seemed to be determined to trip him and make him fall on his face.

Before he could knock, an elderly lady, in an old house dress like his grandmother used to wear, stepped onto the porch. Hands on hips with the door open wide behind her, she glared at him. “Whatever you’re selling, I either already have, don’t need or just plain don’t want.”

“Actually, ma’am, I’m looking to buy—”

“Car’s not for sale. Yes, it’s an antique. Yes, I bought it new and yes, I know it’s a collectible. Still ain’t gonna sell it to you.”