Daniel tucked into the English breakfast in front of him with something approaching ravenous hunger. It was early; at least, most people in the hotel clearly felt it was early. He was needed in the store by seven, and so at a quarter-past six he now found himself in the hotel restaurant, alone but for the cook who prepared the eggs. Others would start making their way down soon, he was sure, but for the moment blissful quiet surrounded him.
He was just shovelling another mouthful of hotel-cooked scrambled egg into his mouth when his phone rang. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the small device and answered the call.
"Hello?" he said, swallowing the food clogging up his mouth.
"Am I disturbing your breakfast, Dan?" Jenny chirped from the other end of the line.
He laughed, sitting back in his chair. "You are, but I'll survive."
"Well, I'll make this quick then," she giggled. "I need you to go and see a sculptor today, if that's alright? I'm needed here to set up the store, so you'll have to do this on my behalf."
"Is this to arrange the selling of his wares?"
"
Her
wares, Dan. But yes, it is. I didn't get around to seeing her yesterday, but I've heard that she's quite good and it might be a mutually beneficial arrangement to get her craft in the store."
"Any particular rules or guidelines you want me to stick to?"
"Not really. I mean, try and let us make a profit, and if she really doesn't want to sell us her sculptures then don't press the issue. I don't want to make enemies."
Daniel nodded. "Sounds reasonable enough. You got the address?"
"I do indeed, Dan. I'll text it through to you in a minute. I gave her a call last night; she's expecting you at eight o'clock."
"Good thing I agreed to this, then!" he laughed.
"It is. But I'd have bullied you into going, no matter what," she responded with an amused lilt to her voice. "Anyway, I best get going. Need to head to the store and get started. See you this afternoon?"
"And hopefully I'll come bringing good news. See you then, Jenny."
******************
Daniel climbed from the cab, tipping the driver, and watched the car drive off. He was getting sick of cabs; every day he seemed to travel in them. If nothing else, it cost a small fortune in tips and fares.
Still, there's nothing I can do about that now
, he sighed to himself, and then turned to check the address he had been sent to.
The house was of a decent size, surrounded by a small lawn of neatly-trimmed grass, but beyond it lay thick woodland that obviously did not belong to the owner of the property. Out here on the edge of Oyster Creek the houses grew far more distant from one another, interspersed between trees and grassland that leant the air a much more rural feel.
Fresh white paint adorned the walls, and a path led to the front door, but it was to the small building that had been attached to the side that his attention was drawn. With a flat roof and large glass windows it gave every impression of being a studio, and Daniel's suspicions were proven correct as he stepped onto the property.
A sign stood in front of it, an arrow painted towards the door that led into that addition to the property, and he guessed that the sculptor did not want potential customers knocking on the front door of the house by accident.
Reaching the studio, he took a moment to read the sign: '
Jill Leung Studios
- please knock if you have an appointment.'
But what of potential customers that don't have an appointment booked? Daniel guessed it was a polite way of telling them to fuck off. He chuckled to himself.
He reached the door and pressed the buzzer, and a few moments later it opened. A woman stood there, her white apron covered in grey plaster dust, and regarded him warmly.
"Daniel Porter-Michaels?" she asked, reaching out to shake his hand.
He glanced down to make sure her palm was free of plaster before returning the motion. "Yes. Jill Leung?"
"That's me," she grinned, and Daniel took a moment to look her over.
She was Asian, or at least of Asian descent - though he'd guessed as much by her name on the sign - and beautiful for it. He placed her in her late twenties, Her eyes were a resonant deep brown, and her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. Whilst the apron hid her figure somewhat he could still tell that she was slender but not skinny, and her breasts were generously proportioned even if not quite "large". From her accent, he placed her as being from California, although he was the first to admit he couldn't quite place American voices just yet.
"Come in then," she said, stepping aside and waving him through.
Daniel moved into the studio, glancing around as he did so. The place practically glowed with light through the windows on the ceiling, which he guessed was perfect for an artist, and the floor was cluttered with myriad piles of mess. Like the other artists he'd known back home in England, clearly Jill was not obsessed with tidiness.
The place was clean, though, barring the odd spatter of plaster on the edge of a table or the slate floor, and he took note of the assorted crafting implements scattered about the place. It seemed from the way her tools were arranged around a particular lump of some sort of stone that Jill had been in the middle of something when he knocked.
"Did I interrupt you?" he said as she stepped past him to the sink.
"To a degree, but don't worry about it," she smiled in return, turning on the tap and scrubbing her hands clean. "I was expecting you, since your friend called last night."
Daniel nodded and waited for her to finish. After drying her hands, Jill reached for the knot on the back of her apron, and pulled the garment from her body. He watched as she did so, noticing the blue jeans and the simple white t-shirt that she wore underneath. She definitely had a lovely figure.
"Well, what is it I can do for you?" she said after hanging up the apron. "Are you here to look at some of my sculptures?"
Daniel smiled. "In a manner of speaking, yes."
She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then waved him to a table in the corner. He sat, and she brought over a jug of water and moved to sit opposite.
"I wonder if you've heard of the Oyster Creek General Store?" he said at last, after pouring himself a drink.
Jill nodded, reaching for her ponytail as she spoke. "I have. Although, I admit, I've never been inside. Doesn't really strike me as my sort of shop. Why?"
"Well, your misgivings about the place are entirely accurate. It was a dive." He smiled, then took a swig of water. "Until recently, that is."
