Page 2 of A Spot of Tea
“Ridiculous,” he muttered as the bag fell onto his lap and onto the ground.
“Hey, would you like a hand?” Eliza asked, peering around the truck.
“Huh?” He startled, squinting at her from under the brim of his cowboy hat. The brown wool was worn light at the edges, and a pink-and-gold tasseled band encircled the cap.
His voice was muffled by a blue surgical mask. “Do I what now?”
She shouldn’t have stopped him. He was busy. He didn’t want to be bothered by her.
But now she had to explain herself. “Um, sorry! Just making sure you didn’t want any help with that.”
He grunted and looked down at the bag on the sidewalk, then back at her, the tassel on his hat swinging wildly with each motion, the gold thread catching in the sun. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. You think you can get my bags for me?”
She let out a breath. “Yes, of course!”
“There’s another bag in the back,” he said, pointing.
Eliza stooped to pick up the black duffel bag from the ground, slung the strap over her shoulder, and stood slowly under the weight. She reached over and lifted the book bag from the truck with her free hand.
“You can give me that one,” he said, taking it from her with a swift pull.
“Are you headed inside?” The strap cut into her shoulder. She shifted the weight.
“Yeah. Just popping in, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She smiled at him. He didn’t notice. “That’s where I’m going, too.”
The automatic doors threw themselves open and he wheeled himself inside, the book bag on his lap.
Eliza followed, walking into a wall of smells as she crossed the threshold – coffee, lemon-scented cleaning solution, and the sickly sweetness of donuts caked in powdered sugar.
She put a hand on her stomach. Turning, turning. Maybe skipping breakfast hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Two tellers chatted, oblivious to their arrival, and a third woman seated in a cubicle glanced up at them before looking back and tapping speedily at her keyboard. Next to her was a silver frame with two smiling, gap-toothed faces.
Eliza took a deep breath. That might be the loan officer – a woman with a full life. Kids. Emails. Suits to dry clean. She had better things to do than judge Eliza’s bad choices. It was going to be okay.
“Do me a favor,” the man said in a low voice. “Dump that bag onto the floor.”
She looked at him. “Like, drop it?”
“Unzip it and dump what’s inside of it out,” he said. “I’m paying back a loan with pennies and dimes and I’d like to make a dramatic entrance.”
She’d heard of people doing that before. It seemed petty, but who was she to judge? “Oh, sure.”
She knelt and the bag hit the floor with a thud. Eliza unzipped the top and tipped it forward. A black box fell out, its surface adorned with wires, blinking red and green lights, and a large, bright clock, the time ticking down in red.
She turned her head, trying to process what she was looking at. Was it a piggy bank, maybe? A lockbox? “Are the coins in there?”
The man jumped from his wheelchair, landing on his feet. “Everyone listen up. This will only take a second!”
The room fell silent and Eliza sat on the floor, her face inches away from his cowboy boots.
“I’ve got a bomb here with a deadman’s switch. This is a robbery. If it’s your first, welcome!”
The empty bag lay next to her, flat and lifeless. She scrambled backwards and slammed her head into the cubicle wall, sending it rocking.
“Hey!” the robber barked, pointing at her.
