unfortunate." She shook her head. "I don’t really recall much about him, but I’ve taught so many people through the years and I can’t very well remember them all." She smiled, but it wasn’t necessarily a heartwarming look. "Of course, some faces I’ll just never forget."
Meaning me. Okay, decision made. I was not apologizing nor was I chatting any more. Mother was already out of sight and I needed to catch up to her for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was my bank account. Deputy Max was also shifting from side to side, cueing me to move along. "Nice running into you, Miz Addleman. You look terrific as always. I’ve got to get going now or my mother will buy out the store--with my money." Ha, ha, ha. I laughed and took off. I would have waved for effect, but I carried the queen’s royal sheet cake.
A moment later, Max whispered, "One of your old teachers?"
"Yeah, English, or so she claimed. I tried to get her fired."
He cocked his head with a "Huh?" kind of look.
"It’s a long story."
We found Lucille in the wrapping paper and novelties section, a stack of non-essentials at her feet and a pile of colorful cellophane-wrapped table decorations in her arms. "This should just about do it," she said. "I don’t think we need to put up any of those self-stick window decals, do you?"
"No!" said Max and I in chorus.
She gave us a little evil look then began piling her selections in each of our arms. I jostled napkins, plates, cups and sundry item on top of the cake until I was reasonably sure nothing was going to fall off. Deputy Max did likewise with his two round cakes, the balloons, tablecloths, plastic forks, a loaf of bread and two containers of pimento cheese spread. The birthday girl reluctantly carried the table decorations.
"They have peaches on sale." Lucille looked longingly back toward the produce area. "Those real good local grown peaches. I’d really like to get a couple of pounds."
Okay, enough already. "Why don’t I just go get a basket?"
"Good grief, Jolene, I just want some peaches. We don’t need a grocery cart for peaches. If you’re going to make such a big deal about it, I’ll go get them myself." She took off, and with a "Let’s go" look to me, Deputy Max followed.
I did not race after them, just ambled along at a snail’s pace, mumbling to myself. "Now, it’s peaches, then it’ll be tomatoes, then paprika and corn starch." No, wait, better scratch those last two items as they would be used in actual cooking activities to which Mother is morally opposed. Besides, she’d already grabbed everything she needed for a semi-formal dinner--that would be the pimento cheese spread and loaf of white bread. "You’re losing your mind, Jolene," I muttered aloud to myself.
No sooner had the words mumbled out than I felt a cold prickle run up my back. Cosmic confirmation of my lunacy was my first thought. The second was that someone was watching me, which made more sense--at least in the short term.
Miz Addleman was probably regretting that she hadn’t yelled at me for my teenage covert operation and that the opportunity was just too good to pass up. Fine. Swell. If she needed to get it off her chest, I suppose I should just let her do it. She’d been the one screwing up, but I hadn’t necessarily needed to do what I did either, so fine. I could take the high road. Maybe we’d both feel better after she chewed me out.
I spun around to where I sensed the source of the glare, but Sharon Addleman was nowhere to be found. Oh, no. Glowering at me like a psychotic blond water buffalo was none other than Rhonda-The-Lying-Slut Davenport.
Chapter 7
My lungs sucked in an involuntary gulp of air and the muscles of my face tensed in displeased shock. Rhonda Davenport was indeed the very last person on the planet I wanted to see, especially in the United Supermarket. I’d let Addleman rake me over the coals thirty or forty times rather
Meaning me. Okay, decision made. I was not apologizing nor was I chatting any more. Mother was already out of sight and I needed to catch up to her for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was my bank account. Deputy Max was also shifting from side to side, cueing me to move along. "Nice running into you, Miz Addleman. You look terrific as always. I’ve got to get going now or my mother will buy out the store--with my money." Ha, ha, ha. I laughed and took off. I would have waved for effect, but I carried the queen’s royal sheet cake.
A moment later, Max whispered, "One of your old teachers?"
"Yeah, English, or so she claimed. I tried to get her fired."
He cocked his head with a "Huh?" kind of look.
"It’s a long story."
We found Lucille in the wrapping paper and novelties section, a stack of non-essentials at her feet and a pile of colorful cellophane-wrapped table decorations in her arms. "This should just about do it," she said. "I don’t think we need to put up any of those self-stick window decals, do you?"
"No!" said Max and I in chorus.
She gave us a little evil look then began piling her selections in each of our arms. I jostled napkins, plates, cups and sundry item on top of the cake until I was reasonably sure nothing was going to fall off. Deputy Max did likewise with his two round cakes, the balloons, tablecloths, plastic forks, a loaf of bread and two containers of pimento cheese spread. The birthday girl reluctantly carried the table decorations.
"They have peaches on sale." Lucille looked longingly back toward the produce area. "Those real good local grown peaches. I’d really like to get a couple of pounds."
Okay, enough already. "Why don’t I just go get a basket?"
"Good grief, Jolene, I just want some peaches. We don’t need a grocery cart for peaches. If you’re going to make such a big deal about it, I’ll go get them myself." She took off, and with a "Let’s go" look to me, Deputy Max followed.
I did not race after them, just ambled along at a snail’s pace, mumbling to myself. "Now, it’s peaches, then it’ll be tomatoes, then paprika and corn starch." No, wait, better scratch those last two items as they would be used in actual cooking activities to which Mother is morally opposed. Besides, she’d already grabbed everything she needed for a semi-formal dinner--that would be the pimento cheese spread and loaf of white bread. "You’re losing your mind, Jolene," I muttered aloud to myself.
No sooner had the words mumbled out than I felt a cold prickle run up my back. Cosmic confirmation of my lunacy was my first thought. The second was that someone was watching me, which made more sense--at least in the short term.
Miz Addleman was probably regretting that she hadn’t yelled at me for my teenage covert operation and that the opportunity was just too good to pass up. Fine. Swell. If she needed to get it off her chest, I suppose I should just let her do it. She’d been the one screwing up, but I hadn’t necessarily needed to do what I did either, so fine. I could take the high road. Maybe we’d both feel better after she chewed me out.
I spun around to where I sensed the source of the glare, but Sharon Addleman was nowhere to be found. Oh, no. Glowering at me like a psychotic blond water buffalo was none other than Rhonda-The-Lying-Slut Davenport.
Chapter 7
My lungs sucked in an involuntary gulp of air and the muscles of my face tensed in displeased shock. Rhonda Davenport was indeed the very last person on the planet I wanted to see, especially in the United Supermarket. I’d let Addleman rake me over the coals thirty or forty times rather
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