offense, as if Bridie had indeed broken some rule of polite society.
Bridie flushed, scanned the celery and carrots, and vowed to keep her mouth shut from now on. She looked past the first two sisters back to her favorite. Lorna was obviously younger than the other two, a little shy, with a sweetness that was genuine, not the phony kind that set your teeth on edge. She was pretty and plump with a heart-shaped face and softbrown hair framing it. And it was funny. Even though their whole relationship had taken place across a check-out stand at the Bag and Save, Bridie had the feeling Lorna could have been a friend if their lives had been different. “How are you doing today, Lorna?” she asked.
“I’m just fine, Bridie.” Lorna was unloading her purse onto the check-out stand. A wadded-up tissue joined a set of keys and a checkbook.
“What are you looking for, Lorna?” the other sister, Fiona, asked, with an overly patient tone that said volumes.
“I had a coupon for that onion soup. I just know it.”
Winifred rolled her eyes and exchanged a glance with Fiona.
Bridie felt a little surge of anger on Lorna’s behalf, reached into her drawer, and found an extra. “I’ve got it here.” She scanned it quickly and watched the computer take off the discount.
“What are your holiday plans, Bridie?” the middle sister asked. She was pretty, with hair a darker shade of red than Winifred’s and fine, delicate features. She’d told Bridie she was a professor at George Mason—ancient history or something. Her husband was a doctor. No kids. But she was nice and had a slightly shorter poker up her back than Winifred. When Bridie had called her Mrs. Larkin, she’d insisted on Fiona instead.
“Oh, I’ll probably spend it here,” she answered.
“Surely they’ll give you time off to go to services?” Winifred asked.
Bridie murmured, noncommittal. Winslow would really get hot under the collar if he found out she was discussing religion with a customer, even if they’d been the one to bring it up. “Is that all for you today?” she asked the sisters, her finger poised over the Total key. Fiona nodded. Winifred nodded. Lorna looked disturbed, as though she was trying to get something out, but it seemed as if her mouth automatically closed when either of her sisters’ opened.
“That will be all, thank you,” Winifred said.
Bridie pushed Total with a flourish and read the sum. “That’s one hundred twenty-two dollars and nineteen cents.”
“How shall we divide this?” Winifred asked her sisters.
“Pay out of household, and we’ll make it right later,” Fiona suggested.
“That sounds fine,” Winifred agreed, then both sisters looked at Lorna expectantly. She nodded and went fishing in her purse again. Fiona and Winifred exchanged another glance.
Bridie helped Jeremy finish the bagging, and seeing the makings for the holiday dinner gave her another feeling of emptiness. When she looked up, Lorna had apparently found her checkbook and was gazing square at her, an expression of compassion and concern on her kind face. Bridie flushed. She’d been wearing her heart on her sleeve again and had gotten caught. She flashed Lorna a bright smile, then repeated the total. Lorna nodded and filled in the amount.
The sisters always paid for the groceries with a presigned check from the account of Alasdair MacPherson. It was a constant entertainment to Bridie to concoct stories about who this Alasdair MacPherson was. Perhaps an old, crippled father. Maybe a young man, their cousin or brother, struck down in his prime. In a wheelchair. A veteran. She never asked, though. It was more fun to wonder. Another of her silly little games.
Lorna handed over the check; then with her hand poised over her wallet, she asked Bridie the same question she always did. “Do you want to see Alasdair’s identification?”
Bridie didn’t know what possessed her, but this time, instead of waving her away and shaking her head as
Bridie flushed, scanned the celery and carrots, and vowed to keep her mouth shut from now on. She looked past the first two sisters back to her favorite. Lorna was obviously younger than the other two, a little shy, with a sweetness that was genuine, not the phony kind that set your teeth on edge. She was pretty and plump with a heart-shaped face and softbrown hair framing it. And it was funny. Even though their whole relationship had taken place across a check-out stand at the Bag and Save, Bridie had the feeling Lorna could have been a friend if their lives had been different. “How are you doing today, Lorna?” she asked.
“I’m just fine, Bridie.” Lorna was unloading her purse onto the check-out stand. A wadded-up tissue joined a set of keys and a checkbook.
“What are you looking for, Lorna?” the other sister, Fiona, asked, with an overly patient tone that said volumes.
“I had a coupon for that onion soup. I just know it.”
Winifred rolled her eyes and exchanged a glance with Fiona.
Bridie felt a little surge of anger on Lorna’s behalf, reached into her drawer, and found an extra. “I’ve got it here.” She scanned it quickly and watched the computer take off the discount.
“What are your holiday plans, Bridie?” the middle sister asked. She was pretty, with hair a darker shade of red than Winifred’s and fine, delicate features. She’d told Bridie she was a professor at George Mason—ancient history or something. Her husband was a doctor. No kids. But she was nice and had a slightly shorter poker up her back than Winifred. When Bridie had called her Mrs. Larkin, she’d insisted on Fiona instead.
“Oh, I’ll probably spend it here,” she answered.
“Surely they’ll give you time off to go to services?” Winifred asked.
Bridie murmured, noncommittal. Winslow would really get hot under the collar if he found out she was discussing religion with a customer, even if they’d been the one to bring it up. “Is that all for you today?” she asked the sisters, her finger poised over the Total key. Fiona nodded. Winifred nodded. Lorna looked disturbed, as though she was trying to get something out, but it seemed as if her mouth automatically closed when either of her sisters’ opened.
“That will be all, thank you,” Winifred said.
Bridie pushed Total with a flourish and read the sum. “That’s one hundred twenty-two dollars and nineteen cents.”
“How shall we divide this?” Winifred asked her sisters.
“Pay out of household, and we’ll make it right later,” Fiona suggested.
“That sounds fine,” Winifred agreed, then both sisters looked at Lorna expectantly. She nodded and went fishing in her purse again. Fiona and Winifred exchanged another glance.
Bridie helped Jeremy finish the bagging, and seeing the makings for the holiday dinner gave her another feeling of emptiness. When she looked up, Lorna had apparently found her checkbook and was gazing square at her, an expression of compassion and concern on her kind face. Bridie flushed. She’d been wearing her heart on her sleeve again and had gotten caught. She flashed Lorna a bright smile, then repeated the total. Lorna nodded and filled in the amount.
The sisters always paid for the groceries with a presigned check from the account of Alasdair MacPherson. It was a constant entertainment to Bridie to concoct stories about who this Alasdair MacPherson was. Perhaps an old, crippled father. Maybe a young man, their cousin or brother, struck down in his prime. In a wheelchair. A veteran. She never asked, though. It was more fun to wonder. Another of her silly little games.
Lorna handed over the check; then with her hand poised over her wallet, she asked Bridie the same question she always did. “Do you want to see Alasdair’s identification?”
Bridie didn’t know what possessed her, but this time, instead of waving her away and shaking her head as
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