Chapter 4: The Deal

Mist’s heart pounded in his ears and his eyes darted around the room.  The figure in the storeroom stepped from behind the curtain.  It was an elderly man with great white bushy hair and spectacles riding low on his nose.

“Just what exactly is going on out here?”

“Sorry Mister, I was just coming in to see what you had… I guess I bumped the shelf.  I’ll pay for anything I broke, I promise.”  Mist was worried as he hurriedly picked up the tin clown and monkey and set them back on the shelf.

“And what about your buddies outside, aren’t they going to come in,” asked the old man stepping toward the door to let them in.

“No,” shouted Mist, “I mean, I think they were heading somewhere else.” Mist glanced out the window and saw something very strange.  Stu was standing right in front of the door with the window, but never seemed to look inside.  In fact, Mist could see that Stu was dumbfounded looking around at the empty crates, with no little kid hiding in them.  Stu rolled up his lower lip to feel his mustache whiskers, glanced with an empty look at the window and slammed a stick right against the glass.  The sound was loud in the shop, but after Mist had blinked, he looked at the window which he was sure was broken, and there was not a crack in it!  Stu and his gang walked off down the alley and out of sight. 

“I guess your buddies didn’t find what they were looking for,” said the old man looking over the top of his glasses right at Mist with a knowing look.  Mist didn’t particularly respond, but his heart rate slowed down and he actually started to look around in the tiny crowded room.  There were all sorts of toys covering every shelf and hanging from the ceiling. 

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t boy,” said the old man in the red apron with a much more gentle tone in his voice.  “Do you want to see my favorites?”

“Sure,” mumbled Mist as he moved to follow the old man who had swung around on his heel and headed back toward the glass counter in the back.  The man opened the back of the glass cabinet and pulled out a square black box and set it on the counter.  His wrinkled and gnarled fingers worked quickly to pop open the brass clasp.  Mist moved closer as the lid opened to reveal a black velvet interior.  In the middle of the box was a group of tiny carved animals.  Mist bent down to look more closely.  The animals were amazing.  They were carved with such precision that no matter how close Mist got; he couldn’t see the chisel marks.  There was a giraffe and a zebra that looked as though they were being stalked by the crouching lion.  Mist looked at the perfectly painted figures.  It was almost as if he could see their tiny eyes peering back at him.

“Did you make them,” asked Mist.

“Oh, no.  I could never make something so beautiful.  My hands are old and my eyes don’t see as well as they should.”

Mist smiled up at the old man who wriggled his glasses up his nose without touching them.  That’s odd.  I just saw the ticket master do that just a few days ago.

            “Are you interested in buying them?”

            “Oh yes, they are amazing.  But I don’t have any money.  All I have is this coin that was given to me.  It’s not real money.”  Mist held out his muddy hand to show the old man his prize. 

            The old man gasped and stood up straight, “Why I haven’t seen anyone else with one those in years.  It’s a Tiger’s Eye gold piece.”  Anyone “else” thought Mist. 

            “You mean that you have one these,” inquired Mist, turning his attention away from the animals, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

            “It’s true they are pretty rare.  Except in this drawer.”  The old man hit the key on his tall, brass register and pulled the drawer open.  He lifted the money tray out, and there below laid a whole compartment full of Tiger’s Eyes!

            Mist was so excited to find out there were more coins like his and with someone who might know something about them too.  “What does the writing on them mean?”

“Oh, I can tell you what the writing says.  But to find out what it means, that is up to you.”

            Confused about the toy store owner’s answer, but still wanting more information, Mist reworded his question, “Well, what does the inscription say?”

            “On the one side, it says ‘Tempore Cresere’ which reads ‘Time to Grow’.  And on the silver side it says ‘Minor Est Milius’ which is interpreted as ‘Smaller is Better.”

            Even hearing what the phrases “said” didn’t help Mist know what they “meant”.  Mist retrained his eyes on the animals.  A curious thing seemed to have happened.  The giraffe, which had been in front of the lion, was all the way at the other side of the box.  Mist was pretty sure that the zebra had been in a standing pose.  But now it was carved to perfection in an all out run from the lion.  Mist moved his head closer.  This can’t be.  I must have remembered wrong. 

            “Well, boy, do you want the animals or not?”

            “Yes, of course I want them, but I already told you I don’t have any money.”

            The old man stood up and scratched the white stubble on his chin, obviously lost in thought.  “I will make you a deal, son.  You take these animals, treat them right and always appreciate them, and if you ever find another Tiger’s Eye lying around, you come and give it to me.  Does that sound like a deal?”

            Of course it was a great deal.  Mist’s heart leaped with joy as he watched the man grab all of the animals from the box and slide them into a little black leather pouch and pull the drawstrings closed. 

            “I don’t know what to say, but thanks so much!  I promise I will always appreciate them.”  Mist kept thanking the man as he carried his new prizes toward the door. 

            “What’s your name, boy?  I need to know who owes me a Tiger’s Eye,” said the old man with a sternness in his voice.  The likes that Mist hadn’t heard sine his father was getting ready to speak of something serious.

            “My name is Mist.  Mist Terry.  I’m very glad to meet you.”  Mist turned and walked out the door.  The bells above the door jingled and beautiful note as Mist walked into the alley with a light heart and a bag full of treasures.  Mist walked around some empty crates and went to pull his black and red hat back over his ears.  But his hat was gone!  He had left his hat, his last gift from his mother, in the toy store.  He whipped around and ran back past the crates and stopped suddenly in his tracks.

            Mist couldn’t breathe at the sight he saw before him.  The door to the toy store, the sign above the door, and even the old man standing in the window were depicted in a painting on the brick wall of the cannery.  Mist’s mind whirled.  He took a step toward the brick wall.  He slowly reached out and touched the bricks expecting them to give way to the glass door that had just been there seconds before.  The paint on them was old and fading.  The colors muted.  But I was just in there!  I know it!  This can’t be real!  Mist looked down and in his hand was the black leather pouch that had just been given to him by the real man in the painting.  Even over the rough surface of the bricks, the painting of the toy store was amazing.  The old man looked so alive.  His white bushy hair and gray stubble looked just the same.  Even the spectacles riding low on his nose were just like the old man.  And that is when Mist stepped back to see something even more fantastic.

          Reaching up to open the door of the painting was the figure of a boy. He had on a long wool coat, just like Mist’s. The boy in the painting was wearing a black and red hat, just like Mist’s. Mist leaned in and looked at the boy’s right hand. There on a painting that must be at least 50 years old was a boy going into a toy store with a muddy right hand. And in that hand was gold coin. Mist couldn’t bear to look any more as his head was spinning and he felt sick. The coin in the picture had a tiger’s eye on it. The painting was of Mist.