Page 33 of A Little Christmas 4: Teller
Once I was in the aisle where feminine products were kept, I froze. I’d never seen so many products in my whole life. I saw a stack of baskets at the end of the row, so I hurried to grab one and return to the row, grabbing one of each box and rushing to the checkout so I could get back before Barrett and Briggs returned in case Maizie was having a breakdown.
Once I got into the car, I started the engine as the phone buzzed in the console. I’d forgotten to take it with me into the store.
I picked it up to see it was a missed call from a number I recognized, though not sure why. I hit the button to return the call. “The Silk Rope.”
“Hi. This is Teller Buchanan calling for Madison Roper.”
“Hold, please.”
Of course I wasn’t planning to drive and talk on the phone at the same time. That would likely cause me to have an accident.
“Teller? Hello, dear. How are you?” It was Maddy Roper.
“Hi, Maddy. Did you call me? I got a call from your number a few minutes ago. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, darling. It’s going wonderfully well.” Maddy liked to try to affect a British accent, and it wasn’t very convincing. Sort of Madonna-esque.
“That’s great. Is there something I can do for you?” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was getting dangerously close to the time Briggs and Barrett were supposed to return from their meeting.
“I want you to come by the store on Monday. I want to— How much stock do you have left after what I took from you?” she asked.
“Uh, ten more of each item you saw. If you want me to take them back, I can come pick them up on Saturday, okay?”
“Oh, darling, I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression. I don’t want to return the merchandise. I want as much as you have on hand, and you need to find a way to mass-produce. I sent photos to my friends and a few manufacturers I know. Everyone is interested, Teller. It seems as though you’ve tapped into a niche no one else has considered.”
I glanced at the passenger seat to see the bag of pregnancy tests and decided Maizie’s issue was much more important.“Maddy, I’d love to come in Monday to discuss this with you. There’s a lot to take in, and I need to talk to my Da—adviser about it. Say, ten in the morning?”
“Perfect, and bring me what you have, please. I have a check for you, anyway.”
“Okay, thank you. See you in the morning.” I ended the call and rushed home.
When I got to the house, I saw Briggs still wasn’t home, so I left the Bronco parked in front of the house and hurried inside. Maizie was still in the studio sorting orders that I was set to deliver to the club for the party tomorrow night.
“Here. I hope you drank a lot of water. Go try some of these,” I told her as I handed her the bag and pushed her to the hall bathroom.
“Jeez, how many did you get?”
I stood in the hallway for reasons unknown. Was I going to ensure she peed on the stick correctly? Slamming car doors had me on the stairs in a heartbeat.
I hurried into the kitchen and got a bottle of water for Maizie in case she needed to fill the tank again, and just as I was running back up to deliver it, Briggs’s laugh sounded through the front door.
“And the cost overruns are bullshit, but I’ll call the general contractor tomorrow. Are you available if I can get an hour with him? The foreman is probably just trying to line his pockets.”
I knocked on the bathroom door. “I’m leaving a bottle of water out here if you need more. I’ll entertain them downstairs. Oh, Barrett’s here. Bye.”
I raced down the stairs to find Daddy reaching into the cabinet over the refrigerator to get a bottle of bourbon. “I’ll have one of those too, Daddy.”
“Hi, sweet boy. How was your day?” Briggs asked.
“Where’s my little girl?”
I wondered for the first time how things would change if she were pregnant. Maizie and Barrett played a lot more than Daddy and me. We only went to the club about once a month. They went once a week. Had Maizie considered what would happen if she were pregnant?
“She’s upstairs in the restroom. She’ll be down in a minute.” Or three, according to the boxes…
Briggs poured each of us a drink and turned to Barrett. “I have wine if Maizie wants a glass. She likes white, right?”
“No!” I blurted out.
