Page 6 of The Forsaken Heir
Lorraine turned from the case where she was unpacking sewing machine bobbins and rolled her eyes at me.
“After that”—she glanced around to make sure no one was in the store—“bitchthis morning, I wouldn’t mind if we didn’t have another customer all day.”
I snorted and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Hearing the seventy-year-old woman cuss was always the highlight of my day.
“Elle, could you get that box of red thread off the shelf in the back?” she asked as I rounded the corner.
With my impressive stature, I towered over all the other women who worked here. Standing at five-eleven, I was a good five inches taller than the next tallest employee. My height meant I could easily reach things on high shelves, so Lorraine and the others didn’t have to use a step stool.
“Sure thing.” I put my drink down and headed to the shelf.
Lorraine grinned from ear to ear as I reached up—my feet flat on the ground, mind you—and grabbed the box.
“I should pay you more just for that,” she said.
“Don’t mention it,” I said. “I’m just glad my giant ass can help do something.”
“Don’t call yourself an ass, dear. It’s not ladylike.”
Lifting an eyebrow, I grinned at her. “Didn’t you call a customer a bitch, like, two seconds ago? Is that ladylike?”
Lorraine narrowed her eyes playfully. “Don’t be a smart-ass. That’s not ladylike, either.”
We both burst out laughing, and only barely managed to contain ourselves when the bell above the door tinkled to let us know a new customer had arrived.
“Hello,” I said with a bright smile. “How can I help you?”
“Hi,” she said. “I came in last week and purchased some of that rainbow-colored faux fur. I need another two yards of it. Do you still have that in stock?” she asked.
Of course we did. That ugly stuff had been on the shelf as long as I could remember. I had no idea why anyone would ever want it, but a sale was a sale.
“Sure,” I said. “Let me grab it.”
This item, along with most of the others that rarely sold, sat high up on a shelf at the back. Again, my height and strength helped me, and I dragged the heavy bolt down. The customer raisedher eyebrows in appreciative surprise. Ten minutes later, she left with her bag of fabric and receipt.
“You know, Elle,” Lorraine said from across the store. “My grandson broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago.”
I sipped at the last of my frappuccino and slowly turned to face her.
“We’re not doing this again, are we, Lorraine?” I asked heavily.
Lorraine sighed and hurried across the store, moving gracefully for someone her age. She put a hand on my arm and smiled at me.
“Blake is a good boy. Handsome, smart. You could do worse,” she said.
“I’m not really looking for romance.”
Lorraine clucked her tongue in disappointment. “You can’t blame me for wanting a granddaughter-in-law who’s such a catch.”
“A catch?” I laughed. “You just want someone to reach stuff on shelves outside the shop.”
“I’ll have you know, my grandson Blake is six feet tall. He can reach anything.”
I snorted, and rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. They always say they’re six feet tall. I have yet to meet someone who hasn’t said that, even when I’m looking down at them.”
Lorraine pursed her lips. “Well, now that I think of it, I suppose he may be a tad under six foot.”
“Told ya,” I said and went back to unpacking supplies.
