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Clara was on a stool in the shop window , a pin in her mouth , when Denis came in from the street with his phone up . A photographer was coming . The poster on the screen was red , and the cloth under the scarves was blue . Clara wanted those scarves left alone . She had spent the morning setting each fold , and if she pulled them down now the folds would fall out before the shop opened . Denis did not say hello . He held the phone higher , as if the poster could argue for him . " The window has to match that , " he said . " Blue will look like a different shop . " Clara took the pin out of her mouth . The iron in the back room was cold . She knew that without going to check . There was no time to press the scarves again and still open the door for customers . " I can change the front , " she said . " I am not taking the scarves down . " He stood under the window and looked up at her . He was not shouting . That almost made it harder . He needed the photo to match the poster , and the poster was red , and the cloth was blue . Both things were true together . " Give me the paper , " she said . She climbed down , cut a sheet from the roll he had left by the till , and taped it to the inside of the front glass . The blue cloth stayed behind it , deeper in the window , with the scarves already pinned . From the stool the red square looked like a mistake stuck over a finished job . " Come outside , " she said . They stood on the pavement . A bus passed , and the glass went dark for a moment , then bright again . From the street the red paper was the first thing you saw . The blue was only a line behind it . Denis tilted his head . He did not smile . " If he hates it , we can still argue , " he said . " We do not have time to press all of them again . " Clara nodded . She had not promised to press them . She had offered the paper . He was the one who let the scarves stay , and she did not correct him . The photographer was not there yet . Denis put the phone in his pocket . Clara went back inside , because one corner of the red paper had already lifted in the heat from the door . She pressed it flat with her thumb . Through the glass she could see him still on the pavement , checking the window the way a customer would , not the way a man does when he has already made up his mind .
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