Overwinter

2: the buck stops here

Painted pink nails tapped the sample tile. "Now that I'm looking at it, could you maybe make the green a little less parakeet and a little more shamrock?"

Tali loved her job, but she didn't always love the people. At this time of year, even the nicer clients tested her patience. There was simply too much to do and not enough time to do it. There certainly wasn't enough time in her day to listen to a woman waver back and forth on which accent color she wanted in her future backsplash.

Tali set last week's samples on the desk beside the ones she'd created for Michelle's visit today. "So you prefer the color we originally discussed?" she asked.

"Is that what it was?"

"Yes."

Staring down at the side by side samples, Michelle frowned. "I remembered it being darker."

"Same as it was last week, Mrs. Wahey. Made the panel with you and put them right in this drawer. Never moved them."

The woman picked the gleaming ceramic up. "Well," she drawled. "You're the artist. What do you think?"

Tali kept her groan to herself, folded her hands in her lap and said, "Parakeet has a bit more pop, if that's what you're looking for."

"I love parakeet, but bright colors are bright. What if I get sick of it?"

Tali pulled tissue paper and a bag from one of the drawers. "Here's what we'll do.I'm going to give you these samples. Lay them around your kitchen counter, lean them against the walls. Look at them during different times of the day in different lighting and whatnot. See which one you love more. Give me a call by next . . . Tuesday, shall we say? And I'll get to work. You'll have a beautiful kitchen in time for Thanksgiving."

The decision worked. Tali wrapped the samples in a dainty bag while Michelle roamed the shop's pottery display.

"I'd love to live here," Michelle said, eyes fixed on her cellphone. "It's so beautiful."

Tali got a lot of wealthy New Yorkers in her shop, the kind who drove to Vermont to ski in the winter, the kind that, in a few years when their hair started graying and their hips didn't appreciate the slopes like they used to, shed their snowbird feathers and migrated south to the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Someone like Michelle, however well-meaning her intentions were, would quickly come to loathe the limited dining options, poor cell reception, and lack of a true, vibrant social life. Tali loved the cozy quiet of the hills, with country fairs and February maple barns, but she did sometimes miss the whirlwind of activities back in populated areas. There was always something to do there. Here, there was always something to fix, rake, or shovel.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

Michelle flung herself around a shelf of bowls. Tali stood and started walking toward her, confused. The woman shrieked and pointed toward the back, where two wide glass sliders led to the deck. 

Tali turned in time to see a large, tawny mass bounding across the deck. Glass exploded across the back wall. Pottery smashed across the floor.

An enormous buck leaped into one of the glazing racks. The case wobbled. The deer froze, ears back, eyes wild. And then the painted bowls toppled on its bloody hide. It kicked away with a frantic bellow, smashed headlong into another case. This shelf crashed and pinned the hapless animal.

It shrieked louder than the women, legs splayed across the gleaming floor. Tali pushed Michelle toward the front door, then pulled her gun out from underneath the cash register, and stepped towards the animal.

The shop bell tinkled. Michelle yelled to her husband, "Oh my God! A deer just—"

The door slammed, leaving Tali alone with the dying buck. Bone splintered from its muscled hind leg. Its chest shuddered with great, heaving groans as it pushed its hooves feebly across the smooth floor. Both its antlers were cracked and hanging. The life in its brown eyes dimmed. With a deep breath Tali removed the safety from the gun, chambered a round and did the humane thing.