A Real Artist

"I love this," she murmured. A second later: "Oh, I just love this!" Another moment passed. "Uh! This is just so great! Isn't that clever! That's so clever. Mm! mm! mm!" She continued around the store picking up objects and putting them back. "You have wonderful taste... if you're the buyer," she called to me.
"No, I'm not the buyer, but I'm glad you're enjoying yourself!" I said.
"Oh," she sniffed, and I realized I was no longer worthy of attention. "The buyer is a designer herself, so she has a terrific eye," I continued. I pointed out the locally designed products and artworks.
"Do you do anything in here?" she sneered. Her tan made her pale blue eyes look almost white.
"Yes," I said and she looked disappointed. "Those drawings on the wall there."
"Huh." She said, barely glancing at the three drawings that collectively represented almost six solid months of my life: black and white narratives painstakingly drawn with ultra fine pens, a magnifying glass and the sacrificial blood and tears most people reserve for their children. "Well, I guess I'll take these things." She said happily dropping a few kitschy knick knacks on the counter.
"Would you like to wear the ring?" I asked pointing to the giant novelty ring she had gushed over.
"Oh, god, no! I'm meeting a client!" she exclaimed and even I was unsure how I could have been so stupid.
"And what do you do, if I can be nosy?" I asked.
"I'm a financial planner," she said. "But I'm actually an artist... on the side." Ah. Now I understood.
"Really?" I said. "How cool."
"Yes," she ran her chicken feet fingers through her short dark hair. "I work with fine crystals... real Swarovsky crystals." She sniffed again. I wondered if she might need a tissue "I also work in shells as a medium. I make picture frames and, you know, little mirrors." She paused again as I nodded and let the gravity of this information process in my pea brain. "I made this bracelet for example." She held out her thin wrist adorned with a greenish brass bangle with rhinestone medallions hot-glued all around it.
"Oh! Yes, I see!" I said. "And did you make your necklace as well?"
"Oh, yes! This is one of my pieces. I loved it so much I just had to keep it for myself, even though so many people wanted it." She fingered the blue, genuine Swarovsky crystals at her throat. "You can see the color is really unique."
I nodded.
"Well," she said. "These are certainly impulse buys!" She beamed at her purchases, the novelty ring and an ice tray that made ice cubes shaped like jewels. I smiled.
"Well enjoy your impulses," I said. She didn't respond. "Thanks for stopping in." She didn't even look at me. "Have a great day!" She walked out the door without saying thank you or goodbye.