Page 54 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“Let me handle it,” she said, ambling over to Edith’s lane and yanking the pepper out of the boy’s hands. “All right. Now what kind of pepper did you say this was?”
A cacophony of voices responded with different answers.
“Oh, just give the lady the pepper for free,” Mustache Man hollered.
“And get arrested?” the checkout clerk said.
“As if anyone’s going to arrest you over a pepper,” Mustache Man grumbled.
“He might.” The clerk’s gaze swung pointedly to the back of the line, where James, dressed in his police officer’s uniform, stood holding a basket of apples and frozen meals.
Mustache Man pointed his finger at him. “You didn’t hear anything.”
“Here.” Edith reached into her purse. “Let me just pay the three-ninety-nine.” She’d paythirty-nine-ninety-nine at this point just to get out of here. Maybe. If she had the money. Her fingers clawed at the bottom of the purse.Oh no.Where was her wallet? It should be here. Why wasn’t it here? Did someone rob her? Someone must have robbed her. Where would someone have robbed her?
Anywhere. It could have been anywhere. That was the thing about small towns. They lured you into letting your guard down, thenboom!Stole your wallet the first second you weren’t looking.
Where was James? She needed to alert him.
“Aha!” the clerk shouted in victory. “I figured it out. Your total is twelve cents.”
“Twelve cents?” Mustache Man yelled. “My ice cream is melting for twelve cents?”
“I still say it’s too much.” The older gray-haired man from the other checkout lane adjusted the bag of groceries in his arms. “Honey, next time you want a poblano pepper—”
“Jalapeño!”
“Serrano!”
“—come over to my house. My wife’s got a garden in the backyard. I’ll give you the address. You can pick out a whole bushel of peppers for free. She’ll even throw in some grape tomatoes.”
“Cherry tomatoes,” Perm Lady said. “Not grape. Cherry.”
“What’s it matter what you call the tomatoes so long as they taste good?”
As they continued arguing, Edith leaned toward the checkout boy. “I have a bit of a problem.” She blew her bangs to the side. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think I’ve been robbed.”
“What’s she saying?” Gladys drove her motorized wheelchair to the back of the line.
“Not sure. Something about a robbery,” Mustache Man yelled. Edith was starting to get the feeling he didn’t know how to speak in anything less than a shout.
“A robbery?” Gladys spun her chair in reverse and banged into a display of potato chips. “James, do something.”
The police officer rescued a stand of candy from toppling over. “Like what, Gladys?”
“Arrest her. She’s obviously trying to steal that cucumber.”
The doors to the grocery store slid open. Edith’s feet twitched. Forget the pepper. How fast could she make it outof the store? She shifted her weight that direction, only to see Henry enter. Her breath hitched as his eyes connected with hers and he drew up short. His blue eyes flickered with some sort of emotion—one she didn’t have the heart to name—before transitioning to an emotion she had no trouble naming. Dismay. His eyes had locked onto the scene taking place around her.
“James, are you going to arrest her or not?” The freezer door rattled as Gladys kept smacking her wheelchair against it in an attempt to reverse.
“Gladys, I’m about to arrest you if you bang into one more thing.”
The gray-haired man shoved his receipt in Edith’s hands. “I drew a map to help you find the house. Just go on around to the back and pick whatever you want. Do you like zucchini?”
“What’s it matter if she likes zucchini?” Perm Lady said, tossing her palms up. “I grow yellow squash.”
“That’s my wife, by the way,” he said, pointing at Perm Lady. “We discovered we get along better when we shop separately.”
