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He resembled a normal customer holding a pillar candle in one hand and a bag of herbs in the other. His face told a different story. Hollow eyes, ringed with ragged flesh as if poorly carved, stared at me.
The whistling stopped.
My heart raced, knowing his attention was on me.
A sinister grin, like a fresh-cut Glasgow Smile, spread across his face, acknowledging my rapid heartbeat.
Maya nudged me.
I forced myself to stay focused, pretending I hadn’t seen anything, even as nausea coiled tightly in my stomach.
Shane’s stare fixed on me, none too pleased.
“What?”
He sighed, exasperated. “I said, go to the back and check on Trudy. She’s in the bathroom.”
“She’s sick?”
“Just go.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I rushed to the back, haunted by the whistling that followed until I slammed the door and slumped against it.
Twice today.
First outside the townhouse, and now, here at the store. Sightings always got worse after a visit, but never this bad.
Trudy stood at the sink splashing water on her face, still pale but breathing easier.
It took a while, but when Trudy calmed enough to help with inventory, Maya came to the back. She made my blood pressure spike when she told us Shane had given the woman our exclusive seven-hundred-dollar Golden Bea display dress as compensation for poor service.
Not even noon and already the entitled suburbanites crawled out of the woodwork to spread their special brand of joy to the world.
I returned to the front, passing Shane without a word, eager to busy myself sorting the new jewelry shipment.
“Raelynn…”
“Don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
I turned and glared at him. “You let that woman walk out of here in a dress worth almost a thousand dollars. Why?”
He crossed his arms, the sleeves of his too large dress shirt sliding up his wrists. He wasn’t skinny, but he wore ill-fitting slacks and shirts. “I’ll remind you not to question my decisions. You’re already on thin ice for talking that woman into buying a statue for a little girl in the first place.”
“What? No. Absolutely not. I didn’t do anything wrong.” I jabbed a finger toward the entrance. “I warned her those statues aren’t toys. And she said Trudy—”
“I know what she said to Trudy. And I know what you said about how she handled her daughter. You know better than to confront a customer about their personal business, no matter what they’re doing.”
“Shane!”
“No. Unless they’re directly interacting with the product or employees, you are to mind your own business. It isn’t our place to tell our customers how to parent.”
“But I wasn’t—”
“Not. Our place.”
Maya’s low whistle made me turn. She stared at us in surprise.
