The Toy Store

“458 Rockabye Lane.” Jerry glanced down at the small card in his hand.  He was in the right place.  Strange looking building. 

He pushed on the door, which opened to reveal a huge room, three stories tall, with rows of boxes and packages, buckets, and barrels.  Several tall golden pillars stretched up to the ceiling.  The floor and walls were covered with various textures and patterns and colors. Toys, dolls, puzzles, teddy bears, kites, tambourines, puppets filled the room.  Jerry didn’t step through the door. He held it and stared.

“Come in or stay out.” A woman sporting a bright blue apron came toward him. “But don’t let anything escape!”  She bent down and grabbed two small multicolored balls just before they bounded out the door.  She straightened. “Welcome to Benedict Toys.”

Jerry gripped his briefcase tighter. “I’m from the Johnson Brothers accounting firm.”  Cautiously, watching for bouncy escapees, Jerry entered the store.

The woman laughed. “Accountant? I suppose Mr. Benedict sent for you.” She held out her hand with a smile. “I’m Amelia, head of doll sales.”

“Jerry.”

“Nice to meet you, Jerry.  I’ll take you to Mr. Benedict.”

Children ran around them, climbing on shelves and bouncing balls.  Jerry walked into the store with wide eyes.  On one wall there were hundreds of balls sitting on long shelves, arranged from biggest to smallest.  A pile of wooden train tracks waited on a large green rug. In one corner a spiral staircase climbed from the floor to the ceiling, wrapping around a bright red twisty slide. 

As they walked, Amelia straightened boxes and deftly sorted toys into their bins.  “So, you’re an accountant? That’s neat.”

“Yes.”

“I bet you don’t get to go to toy stores very often.”

“No. Not often.”

Amelia placed the two bouncy balls in a box and closed the lid. “I can’t think of why Mr. Benedict would call for an accountant.”

“There are many reasons to hire an accountant.”

“I’m sure there are.”

Amelia led Jerry up to a long wooden table near the center of the store. A man wearing green suspenders was bent over a toy on the table.

“Hello, Mr. Benedict,” Amelia said. 

The man looked up.  His eyes were huge behind a pair of round goggles and his hair stuck out in all directions. “Amelia.  What a pleasure. You’ve looking lovely today.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He looked back down at the toy in his hands and snipped at a few loose strings, then pulled the puppet up by a wooden stick.  He made the doll take a few wobbling steps toward Amelia. “She’s all fixed.  Would you take her back to Puppet Town?”

“Of course.”  She took the puppet by the stick and sat it down on her arm. “And Sir, this is Jerry.” Amelia nodded at Jerry before leaving to replace the puppet.

“Jerry,” Mr. Benedict said. “My carousel repair man. So glad you could make it.”

“No, I’m an accountant.”

“Accountant? Really?  Interesting. What are your qualifications?”

“I have my associate’s degree and my bachelor’s degree in accounting; I passed the CPA examination in the top tenth.”

“Then I guess you’ll do. Come right this way.” Mr. Benedict walked toward the back.  A dark red curtain had been strung along the length of the store and when Mr. Benedict pulled on a big golden tassel, it opened to reveal a beautiful carousel.  Many majestic horses hovered mid-air, awaiting riders; two grand carriages sat bolted to the platform.  Mr. Benedict raised a lever then pushed a button. Round light bulbs flicked on as the ride whirred to life and started to spin.  Joyful music filled the air.  The horses were bobbing up and down. Bright colors blurred as the carousel twirled.

“It seems to be working,” Jerry said.

“It turns, yes, but the horses,” Mr. Benedict sighed. “Haven’t been smiling.”

“They’re made of plaster. They can’t change facial expression.”

“When they arrived here they were smiling, Jerry.  I’ve treated them well, not to many rides a day, only the nicest children.  But look at them now.”

Jerry watched the toy maker.  Mr. Benedict was chewing on his fingernails and watching the carousel turn. “I don’t think I can help you,” Jerry said.

Mr. Benedict didn’t turn around. “You have to.  I’ve tried everything I can think of. That’s why I called a professional.”

“I’m an accountant, Mr. Benedict.”

“Surely some accounting skills apply in carousel repair.  Use whatever you have in that suitcase.”

“Briefcase.” Jerry held his brown briefcase up.  “A calculator and a legal pad aren’t going to help.”

“Jerry, I’ve hired you. Perhaps I made a mistake and called accounting instead of carousel repair, but I would like you to try.  Get my horses to smile again.”  Mr. Benedict walked back into the store. He pulled the tassel and the curtain swooped closed in front of him.