Mr. Armond transcribed the approval code onto the form and handed her the pen. As she signed her name, he mentally calculated his five-percent commission on the sale: $1,200.
Ms. Olson, carrying the small catalogs in a stack that reached from her midriff to her chin, managed a polite nod as she passed.
"Darling," Greta called, pointing in Ms. Olson's direction with her index finger.
As the saleswoman turned, her expressionless face metamorphosed into a struggled smile. "Yes?"
"Can I please have one of those?"
"Madam, I am certain you will receive one in the mail shortly,"
Ms. Olson said. She blinked delicately, twice.
"I want it now."
Mr. Armond jumped from his seat. "Of course." He slid one from the pile. Quickly discarding the little protective jacket, he handed the booklet to Greta, who immediately began flipping through it.
"Thank you, dear," she said, without looking up.
Mr. Armond returned the addressed, empty coverlet to Ms. Olson's pile and sent her off with a grateful wink. He collected the cord-wrapped box containing her new bowl from a stock attendant, and handed it to Greta. "Anything else today, Mrs. Locke?"