tone. “She just found out she’s pregnant this morning.
She went to her family doctor because she couldn’t fit in most of her clothes
anymore. She felt she wasn’t eating that much but her stomach was getting
bigger, so she was afraid it was a tumor or something. That’s why I brought
her here after we found out. Her husband is home with the kids, and she needs
to feel she fits something besides her bathrobe. It seemed like a good idea.
I’m sorry you are seeing her so upset, but she’s really . . . . ”
At that moment,
there was a loud gasp from the back of the shop near the register, followed by
a yelled, “Oh, Mother, look!”
Neither of us
realized Melissa was out of the bathroom until the gasp followed by her
beckoning.
“Isn’t this the
most precious thing you ever saw? I spotted it as I went by, but it didn’t hit
me until I was in the bathroom. I’ll go back to the bathroom in a minute, but
I had to come back out here to see this more closely.” Melissa was holding a
pink lace dress and bootie set for a newborn and presenting it to us as if she
were displaying the Hope Diamond.
“This one might be
a girl!” Melissa exclaimed with a look of complete joy and awe.
Her excitement
must have been contagious, because her mother and I stood there nodding our
heads, clapping our hands, and chanting, “Yes, uh-huh, a girl. It might be a
girl. It could definitely be a girl.”
Melissa carefully put
the outfit back where she’d found it, clapped her hands with delight, and
returned to the ladies room with a huge smile on her face.
Her mother turned
to me and stated the obvious, “Melissa has three boys.”
I nodded as if
this fact had not occurred to me.
She went on to
explain, “She has hoped for a girl each time, but when she had her sons she was
so ecstatic you would think she wanted a boy, only a boy, and nothing but a
boy. Now let’s find her some things to try on quickly before her mood
changes.”
As we started
collecting outfits, CeCe came out of the back with a smile on her face and
coffee on her breath. CeCe and I continued to select possibilities in
Melissa’s size, while Melissa’s mom submitted the choices for her approval.
Once several outfits had been given the thumbs up, Melissa’s mother paid for
them while Melissa apologized profusely for her earlier behavior.
After we assured
her she had nothing to apologize for, made her promise to come see us again,
and swore to keep our fingers crossed for a girl, we bid good day to Melissa
and her mother.
CeCe and I had
almost all of Melissa’s rejects back on the racks when we turned toward the
tinkling door chimes and saw Fry enter. The fact that we weren’t expecting him
this early on a Thursday coupled with his troubled demeanor suggested something
was wrong.
“Morning, Fry,” I
said tentatively. He didn’t respond. As he stood there barely inside the shop
and looked from CeCe to me and back to CeCe again, we each put down the clothes
we were hanging and walked toward the doorway.
When we’d almost
reached him, he stopped us with, “He’s dead. Uncle Barney is dead.”
“Dead?” CeCe
asked, unable to process the news any faster than I could, apparently.
“Oh, no,” I said
softly, when I’d found my voice. “We saw him at the funeral yesterday, and he
seemed overwhelmed with grief, but to take it this hard? Was this his first
attack or had he had trouble with his heart before?”
I was studying Fry
carefully, waiting for his answer, but my mind was also remembering the
grieving man I met at the funeral. Then I thought of the nephew who adored
him. “Luke must be so sad,” I added, feeling bad for him and his loss.
Fry took a second
to process my questions and comments then responded, “It wasn’t a heart attack,
Maggie. Luke and I found him around two this morning. He’d been murdered.”
CeCe looked as
shocked as I felt but recovered her words first.
She went to her family doctor because she couldn’t fit in most of her clothes
anymore. She felt she wasn’t eating that much but her stomach was getting
bigger, so she was afraid it was a tumor or something. That’s why I brought
her here after we found out. Her husband is home with the kids, and she needs
to feel she fits something besides her bathrobe. It seemed like a good idea.
I’m sorry you are seeing her so upset, but she’s really . . . . ”
At that moment,
there was a loud gasp from the back of the shop near the register, followed by
a yelled, “Oh, Mother, look!”
Neither of us
realized Melissa was out of the bathroom until the gasp followed by her
beckoning.
“Isn’t this the
most precious thing you ever saw? I spotted it as I went by, but it didn’t hit
me until I was in the bathroom. I’ll go back to the bathroom in a minute, but
I had to come back out here to see this more closely.” Melissa was holding a
pink lace dress and bootie set for a newborn and presenting it to us as if she
were displaying the Hope Diamond.
“This one might be
a girl!” Melissa exclaimed with a look of complete joy and awe.
Her excitement
must have been contagious, because her mother and I stood there nodding our
heads, clapping our hands, and chanting, “Yes, uh-huh, a girl. It might be a
girl. It could definitely be a girl.”
Melissa carefully put
the outfit back where she’d found it, clapped her hands with delight, and
returned to the ladies room with a huge smile on her face.
Her mother turned
to me and stated the obvious, “Melissa has three boys.”
I nodded as if
this fact had not occurred to me.
She went on to
explain, “She has hoped for a girl each time, but when she had her sons she was
so ecstatic you would think she wanted a boy, only a boy, and nothing but a
boy. Now let’s find her some things to try on quickly before her mood
changes.”
As we started
collecting outfits, CeCe came out of the back with a smile on her face and
coffee on her breath. CeCe and I continued to select possibilities in
Melissa’s size, while Melissa’s mom submitted the choices for her approval.
Once several outfits had been given the thumbs up, Melissa’s mother paid for
them while Melissa apologized profusely for her earlier behavior.
After we assured
her she had nothing to apologize for, made her promise to come see us again,
and swore to keep our fingers crossed for a girl, we bid good day to Melissa
and her mother.
CeCe and I had
almost all of Melissa’s rejects back on the racks when we turned toward the
tinkling door chimes and saw Fry enter. The fact that we weren’t expecting him
this early on a Thursday coupled with his troubled demeanor suggested something
was wrong.
“Morning, Fry,” I
said tentatively. He didn’t respond. As he stood there barely inside the shop
and looked from CeCe to me and back to CeCe again, we each put down the clothes
we were hanging and walked toward the doorway.
When we’d almost
reached him, he stopped us with, “He’s dead. Uncle Barney is dead.”
“Dead?” CeCe
asked, unable to process the news any faster than I could, apparently.
“Oh, no,” I said
softly, when I’d found my voice. “We saw him at the funeral yesterday, and he
seemed overwhelmed with grief, but to take it this hard? Was this his first
attack or had he had trouble with his heart before?”
I was studying Fry
carefully, waiting for his answer, but my mind was also remembering the
grieving man I met at the funeral. Then I thought of the nephew who adored
him. “Luke must be so sad,” I added, feeling bad for him and his loss.
Fry took a second
to process my questions and comments then responded, “It wasn’t a heart attack,
Maggie. Luke and I found him around two this morning. He’d been murdered.”
CeCe looked as
shocked as I felt but recovered her words first.
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