You enter an antique store and accidentally break a rare vase. Tell what happens.
Approx. 1,796 words
Breakage
©2003 by W. E. Lopez
Entering the small antique shop with the little tinkling bell over the door, Nicholas Zachary paused a moment to let his eyes adjust from the brightness of a July afternoon outdoors. He never responded to the nickname ‘Nick’ or ‘Nicky,’ even his wife had learned he would simply ignore her unless she addressed him as Nicholas. He was forty-three years old, and at five-foot-two weighed only one hundred and nineteen pounds. His lack of stature and power meant he was always the last one chosen for the team in grade school and high school, while his surname put him at the end of every other important list of applicants. Naturally, Nicholas had gone into government service to achieve the respect, power and authority demanded by his pint-sized ego.
The floor of the antique shop measured about 20 by 30, with an ‘Employees Only’ area to the rear of the sales desk. The proprietor was engaged with a frumpy lady of middle-age, and their conversation was frequently animated with hand gestures as she described the dimensions and colors of a room in her home where she wished to display a certain painting. Nicholas gave them no further attention and began to browse the items on display in the small shop.
Nicholas was surprised to come upon a small area of the shop set apart with shiny brass stanchions and a blue velvet rope, dedicated to the art of Louis Tiffany. In addition to the beautiful lamps one would expect, there were several landscape paintings, a few vases and half a dozen glass paper-weights or flowers.
“A lovely landscape isn’t it?” the proprietor said quietly at his side.
“Remarkable use of color, hue and texture,” Nicholas admitted.
“You have a discerning eye, Mr. —“
“Addams, Peter Addams,” Nicholas said.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Addams, I’m Marshal Renner. Most buyers are familiar with Tiffany’s creations in stained glass and art nouveau, but few are aware of his fine paintings and work in metal. He was a remarkably talented artist in several mediums.”
“Are these authentic, Mr. Renner?” Nicholas asked.
“Sir, you wound me,” the proprietor said. “Most of my wares are signed by the artist, and when possible, I have a notarized provenance. Of course these beautiful treasures are authentic!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply….” Nicholas left the phrase hanging.
“No offense, Mr. Addams, one must be cautious in the serious business of collecting. Are you interested primarily in paintings, lamps, or glass object de art?”
“Just a small gift for my wife,” he said. “Our anniversary is next month and I’m sure she would appreciate having something special in our living room.”
“Might I ask if you have decided upon a price range? I have several pieces you can have for under a hundred dollars.”
Nicholas was not about to be locked into bargain prices. “I have a successful accounting business in Chicago,” he said, almost truthfully. After all, he had graduated with a degree in accounting, even if he did not run his own business but worked for others. “It’s our eighteenth anniversary, and I think she deserves something befitting the occasion.”
“That painting you were admiring can be had in the neighborhood of twenty-five hundred, Mr. Addams. It’s a consignment from the owner and it would be necessary for me to submit your offer for approval. Or, you might consider this exquisite vase, just under five thousand,” Mr. Renner said. He plucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and picked up the vase, carefully handing it to Nicholas to admire the iridescent hues Louis Tiffany had been so famous for. With great care, Nicholas turned the vase round and round in his hands and examined the signature cut into the base of the vase.
“Ahem,” the matron on the other side of the store said. “I think I’ll have this one,” she said, exhibiting a 12 by 14 painting. May I charge this, Mr. Renner?”
“Of course, Mrs. Landing, please step over to the sales counter and I’ll write it up for you.” To Nicholas he said, “Excuse me just a moment. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said as the proprietor stepped away. He continued admiring the vase—it certainly was beautiful. The dominant colors were gold and amber, with shades of each blending like iridescent mother of pearl. The vase was about fourteen inches tall, shaped like the blossom of a flower on a tall and graceful stem, ending in a circular pedestal at the base. This would certainly be the one, Nicholas felt, carefully setting it back upon the display table. Renner’s shop bore no resemblance to a discount store where customers carried their purchases to the check-out counter.
In spite of his exaggerated care, when Nicholas let go of the vase it teetered precariously and fell backward. The subdued atmosphere of the shop resounded with a terrible crash as it hit the floor, followed by painful tinkling sounds when it shattered into a hundred fragments!
“Oh—oh my Lord!” Mr. Renner shrieked as he left Mrs. Landing standing at the sales counter and rushed to Nicholas. “That vase was a very rare item from the 1890’s, Mr. Addams! How will I ever explain this to the owner? What can I do?” Renner appeared genuinely shaken and terrified about the reaction he could expect from the owner who had left the vase on consignment.
“Won’t your insurance cover it, Mr. Renner?”
“I only wish it would, Mr. Addams. The vase came in three days ago and I’ve not yet had time to add it to the inventory of covered items. My agent would laugh if I tried to submit a claim for loss. I sincerely regret what I must do, Mr. Addams, but I’ll have to take you to court to recover the loss. I have Mrs. Landing as a witness, so I shouldn’t have any trouble convincing a judge.”
“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t, Mr. Renner. However the only people who would be happy to see us in court will be your attorney and mine. If you’ll give me a break on the cost of the vase, discount the attorney fees I mean, we can put it on my AMEX card right now. Say, thirty-five hundred?”
“I understand your point, Mr. Addams, and I’m thankful you can be sensible about this, but I don’t feel I could take less than four-thousand, do you think that would be fair?”
“I do, Mr. Renner. Rest assured, next time I won’t be so clumsy.”
“Just let me finish with Mrs. Landing and I’ll write up the sale immediately, Mr. Addams.”
“Can I have a paper bag, or a small box, Mr. Renner? As long as I’m paying for the vase, I’d like to be able to show my wife what she almost received for our anniversary.”
“Certainly, sir, it’s the least I can do. I’ll get you one from the sales desk, and of course a small whisk broom. I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself and end up suing me for injuries!”
Renner went to the sales counter and quickly returned with a small blue-plastic dust pan and whisk. He also brought a gift box which Nicholas swept the glass fragments into while Renner finished his sale to Mrs. Landing.
Nicholas pulled his AMEX card out of his wallet and laid it on the counter. “Four thousand, right Mr. Renner?”
“It pains me, Mr. Addams, but I’m sure I’ll be able to convince the owner to accept that price, even if I have to forfeit my consignment fee to close the deal.” Renner pulled a credit slip from beneath the counter, placed it and the AMEX card in the printer and ran it through. He filled out the slip and handed it with a pen to Nicholas. “If you’ll just sign here, sir, I regret this incident but you must understand I cannot afford to take a loss of this amount with such a small shop.”
“Regrettably, I do, Mr. Renner. Let that be a lesson to me.” Nicholas signed with a flourish and handed the credit slip back to Renner who spread the individual sheets and pulled out the carbon, which he handed back to Nicholas.
“Just to be sure no one accidentally acquires your card number and expiration date, Mr. Addams.”
“Thank you, Mr. Renner. I appreciate your honesty.” Nicholas reached for the credit slip with his left hand, but grabbed Renner’s hand as he did so and slipped the handcuffs over his wrist.
Above the door to the shop, the silver bell tinkled furiously half a dozen times as four men and a woman rushed in. They had guns drawn and three wore black windbreakers with IRS emblazoned on the back. Bringing up the rear were two uniformed officers of the local police.
“Marshal Renner, you’re under arrest for tax evasion, just to begin with. The police have charges of bunko and fraud they wish to speak to you about. While you’re in their custody, we’ll have time to prepare our case in federal court.”
Patricia Thayer snapped the bracelets on Mrs. Landing and advised her of her rights. “With the local cops, Rachel, we’ve had this shop under surveillance long enough to watch you pull this scam four times. You’ll be charged as an accessory to grand larceny, lady.”
Nicholas turned Renner over to the cops, and then moved behind the cash register where Renner had been standing while he wrote the sales slip for his accomplice. In a moment he found what he was looking for, an ivory button beneath the register. When he pushed it, he could see the barely perceptible movement beneath the embroidered table covering where the expensive vase had been displayed.
“I’m not an expert in antique glass, Mr. Renner,” Nicholas said, “but I do know the signatures on Tiffany pieces are easy to fake because they were added by machine during manufacture. That’s why I wanted to collect pieces of the broken vase to send to our lab. I don’t know how many other times you’ve pulled this scam, but we’ve got you cold for at least twenty-thousand in unreported income. When you add that to the ten to twenty years the district attorney will put you away for, it will be quite some time before you get out and prey upon innocent victims again.”
“Typical government efficiency,” Renner quipped. “I steal a paltry few thousand, and you want to lock me up where it costs the taxpayer twenty-five or thirty thousand a year to support me.”
“It’s the principle of the thing, Renner; the principle of the thing.” Nicholas grinned with satisfaction. He might be wasting tax dollars, but it was more important to demonstrate no one could cheat Uncle Sam.