Verity moved like a panther despite her arthritic knees. She had watched the redheaded teen examine the same clothes rack for ten minutes before deciding to make a move.
At the same time the teen’s fingers clasped the pink leather collar, Verity clamped down on her elbow.
“Drop it!” Verity barked. “What? I was just looking!” “For ten minutes?” The teen glowered at her.
“I’m an indecisive person. Sue me.” Verity glared back and told the girl to turn out her pockets. No wallet turned up during the search. Verity steered the girl by her elbow to the back counter and after some reluctance from the teen, eventually got her father’s number.
“What?” the father shouted, making Verity wince. “Look, I’m at work and can’t get off until my shift ends. Can you keep her there with you? I’ll pay for the jacket when I get there.” With that, he clicked off.
“You’re with me for the day. Go sort through those boxes at the back door. Then hang the clothes on the wracks near the store windows.”
The girl said nothing and shuffled off. Occasionally while tallying up receipts at the thrift store’s register, Verity looked over at the teen to see how she did. She gathered the clothes in bundles, hanging them up haphazardly. Whatever clothes escaped the girl’s grasp belonged to the floor.
Verity glowered and stalked over to pick up the fallen items. “Didn’t your mother teach you how to hang clothes properly?” “Don’t got one,” the girl remarked. “Well, if you make skipping school a habit, keep in mind you’ll be doing this for a living.”
“I didn’t skip. I was suspended.” “Even worse. What’s your name anyway?” “Cherry.”
Verity snorted, glancing at the red pixie cut framing the babydoll face. “It’s my nickname, you old bat,” Cherry shot back. “My name is Cheryl like my mom.” “Sorry,” Verity grunted and continued hanging clothes in silence.
The silent partnership continued like that for the rest of the week. Cherry’s father insisted upon it to keep Cherry out of mischief and to teach her a lesson about shoplifting. From the harried way the father shepherded the teen from the store on her first day, Verity thought the man just wanted an unpaid babysitter while he worked. Verity didn’t mind. She needed a new volunteer around the shop anyway.
Cherry reminded the middleaged woman of herself when she stepped into New Chance thrift shop—a burnt-out twentysomething recovering alcoholic in need of a job. She hadn’t wanted to be there either.
What was that verse her daughter Melissa was always spouting at her? Something greatest of these is charity? Yes, it was the bookend for the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians.
So every morning before Cherry arrived, Verity prayed for patience and the heart to love the sullen girl. She didn’t know when the switch happened, but one day, she and Cherry actually held conversations and even laughed as they sorted and helped customers look for things. With some hesitation, Verity even shared some Bible verses with the girl. Cherry’s father even thanked Verity one morning after dropping Cherry off.
“I hadn’t seen her actually look forward to something since her mother died.” “I have a prickly side too,” Verity assured the young widower. “Somehow we smooth each other out.”
The man smiled, probably the first one he had given in a while. On Cherry’s last afternoon at the shop, they were cleaning up after lunch when a young woman in a threadbare T-shirt arrived. She kept to the dark corners and before Verity or Cherry knew what had happened, the girl slid toward the store entrance with the same pink leather jacket. She melted into the large crowd in the outdoor strip mall before Cherry could stop her.
“That’s so not fair!” the girl fumed, slamming back into the shop. “Who does she think she is? What if someone who really deserved it needed that jacket?”
Verity just smiled and said: “Don’t forget charity, hon. We can get other jackets.”