Page 56 of One Small Spark
Behind the front counter, Palmer gives me a thumbs-up in solidarity. He knows the drill.
When I reach the man, his daughter is on the verge of tears. I hate this part of my job. Ordinarily, I’m not a fan of confrontation, but somebody needs to speak up. Here in my shop, that’s going to be me.
“Do you need any help over here?” On my best days, my customer service voice isn’t much gentler than my normal one. Intervening on this conversation, I probably sound accusatory. That fits.
The man looks like he’s been caught red-handed. Good. Means this should be easy.
“We’re just trying to settle on a bike for my daughter. I’ve been showing her these girls’ bikes, but she wants the same kind her brother has.” He shoots me a look as if I’m going to commiserate with him over how foolish she is.
Tough luck, guy.
“Do you know how to ride already?” I ask her. I’m gentler with her than I was with her father.
She nods. “I learned on my brother’s bike. It’s like this one but blue.”
I figured as much. I turn back to her dad.
“Based on her height, that pink bike is too small for your daughter. I wouldn’t recommend that size because she won’t be able to ride comfortably.” I gesture at the one she’s still clutching. “This brand’s kids’ bikes are all unisex. They’re good for paved or dirt paths, with a comfort seat. If she already rides a bike like this, it might be the best option.”
“I thought there was a difference between girls’ and boys’ bikes. You know.” He leans closer to me, and I catch a whiff of cologne. “Anatomically.”
I kind of wish Laurel was here to laugh in this man’s face. I’m tempted to ask him to explain what he means just to hear him sputter over made-up nonsense.
“Women’s bikes typically have shorter stems and shorterreach, due to women generally being shorter than men. But the best bike for a woman is any bike that fits her. The same is true for men. There’s noanatomicalreason not to go with the bike your daughter wants.”
He stares at me for a few seconds like he’s waiting for me to get to the punchline. When I don’t, his resistance slumps along with his shoulders.
“Oh. Well.” He looks at the bike his daughter’s holding. “I guess we can go with that one, then. If it doesn’t make a difference.”
I don’t know if it’s the information I gave him or simply the fact that I’m a man that ultimately convinced him, but I’ll take it as a win for his daughter. And her happy smile is a win for me. “Palmer will help you two with that.”
I return to Wren, who doesn’t hide how she’s been following along.
“Is that a common thing?” she asks.
“Not really, but it does happen.” More often than I’d like. At least the man gave in and is willing to get her the bike she wants. I’ve seen more than a few kids leave disappointed because their parents only focused on making themselves happy with their purchase for their child.
She glares at the man across the room. “Maybesheneeds the loudest bike horn in the world to drown out her dad.”
“Did you choose violence, then?”
Her brief laugh pings through my chest like a firework, lighting me up. “No. August would probably rather have this normal-sounding bell that has dinosaurs on it.”
“Good choice.” I bring her to the front counter and ring up the bell. At the other end of the counter, Palmer’s writing up paperwork for the girl’s new bike.
Wren looks over at the little girl, who’s still holding onto the bike’s seat like she’s afraid it might get snatched away.
“I like your new bike,” Wren says. “That dark green is a really cool color.”
The girl beams at her. “Green is my favorite.”
“I bet you’re going to have so much fun riding it.”
She nods, making her curly blond hair bounce. “I can’t wait to get it home.”
Wren turns back to me. She looks me over, no doubt examining whatever incriminating thing my face is doing. “What?”
I lean slightly over the counter, tipping my head down toward her. “It’s sweet.”
