“I think I have the perfect ornaments,” she assured them. “Give me a minute,” she added and hurried to the back of the store and opened the box from Jenny Farrow. She was known throughout North Carolina for her ability to make unique, delicate, glass-blown ornaments. She was sure the couple would agree when they saw what she took out of the box that had arrived via FedEx on Black Friday; she’d had to force herself not to open the box until today, her personal start of the Christmas season.

Carefully, Lauren took a few of the angel ornaments from the box and placed them in what she called her egg-crate carrier, something her father had devised years ago, a way to display fragile ornaments without actually handing them to the customer.

“What about this?” Lauren asked the elderly couple, who’d waited outside her office door.

“Oh, my, these are stunning,” the woman gushed when she saw the pair of angels. “Henry, I think we need this set for our tree this year. Do you have any more like these?”

Lauren beamed. “Yes, and I have others from this artist.” If she sold just three sets of these ornaments today, she would reach the weekly sales figures she’d hoped for, and a little extra, even after Jenny’s commission.

Before they changed their minds, Lauren took the set of four snow people, the set of stars, and the last two angels from the tightly packed box, not bothering to place them in the egg-crate carrier. Instead, she placed them on a felt-covered tray she often used when displaying delicate items. Like a jeweler, she’d told her father once.

“This is the rest of the set of angels. The artist calls them a family of celestial beings.” Lauren took what she thought of as “the baby angel” and allowed the elderly couple a close look.

“Exquisite!” the elderly gentleman said.

“Jenny’s work is perfection, if I say so myself. She’s been supplying our most unique pieces for at least twenty years,” Lauren said, as they scrutinized each angel in the set of four.

“I would like the entire set,” the woman said. “I’m going to keep these, never mind just buying one for the tree-trimming party.” She turned to look at her husband. “Henry, get out your credit card. I have a feeling we’re going to earn ourselves an airline ticket or two once these are tallied up.”

Lauren laughed. “They are pricey, but they’re one of a kind. As far as I know, Jenny has never duplicated any of her Christmas pieces.”

“Henry, I’m fearful you’ll break these.”

“Ellen, I was thinking the same thing about you,” he said, a smile on his face. “Dear Ellen is as clumsy as a kitten tugging on a kite string. Has been since the day I made an honest woman of her fifty-odd years ago.”

Lauren laughed out loud. “I can have these delivered, but I can’t guarantee they won’t get broken,” she said.