Protector - Laurel Dewey [118]
“Startin’ to feel like summer, isn’t it?” the sheriff said, making conversation.
“Yup. I think the cherries are gonna be early this year.”
The store was small enough that Jane could hear every word. The banal back-and-forth began to grind on her nerves as she plucked one frozen entree after another out of the case and tossed it into her cart.
Emily stared at the growing pile of frozen food. “We need vegetables.”
“Okay,” Jane replied. “Go pick what you want.”
Emily trotted down the aisle and out of Jane’s sight. Within seconds, Jane heard a saccharin voice coming from the produce department.
“Well, looky here! Patty Calver! We meet again!” Jane closed the freezer door and muffled a frustrated “shit” under her voice. “Are you down here all by your lonesome or is your mom with you?”
“She’s over getting frozen food for us,” Emily said.
“Frozen?” Kathy said, sounding a bit guarded.
Jane swung her cart around the produce aisle. “Patty!” Jane said abruptly. “Did you get what you need?”
Kathy stiffened slightly in response to Jane’s crusty words. “Well, there’s your mom!” Kathy said, false friendliness dripping from her cement smile. “How’s it goin’?”
“Just great,” Jane replied, grabbing a bag of chips and a large container of salsa from the shelf.
“My goodness!” Kathy said, looking into Jane’s cart. “That’s a lot of frozen food.”
“Well, that house you got us has a big freezer!” Jane said, intoning her own version of false friendliness as she deposited two six-packs of cola in the cart along with a dozen eggs.
“Mom!” a child’s voice rang out from another aisle.
“What is it, Heather?” Kathy asked.
“Come here!” Heather commanded. “I want you to see this nail polish!”
“Why don’t you come over here and show it to me, darling?” Kathy replied.
An overexaggerated sound of exasperation came from the child as she pounded her little feet down the aisle and around the corner. Heather was one of those kids that adults refer to as “precocious” when they don’t want to use the word “bratty.” She was dressed in a trendy outfit with a country western flair. Her long blond hair was tied into a braid and secured with a red barrette that matched her shirt. She stuck her left hand out into the air, fingertips pointed down. Each fingernail was painted with a different color of fresh polish. “Which one of these is the prettiest?” Heather asked her mother in a bitchy tone.
“Heather,” Kathy said, glossing over her daughter’s behavior.
“I’d like you to meet Mrs. Calver and her daughter, Patty. They’re living in the old Cooper house.”
“Hello,” Heather said with no enthusiasm. Turning to her mother, she jabbed her hand back into her face. “Mom! Which color do you like?”
“I think they are all very pretty colors.”
“Don’t be stupid! Which one will look best with my new line dancing outfit?”
Kathy turned to Jane. “Heather took up country line dancing three years ago. It’s such a fun activity for kids! Do you line dance, Patty?”
“No,” Emily said quietly, placing several bags of vegetables into Jane’s cart.
“You really should give it a try. I’m sure Heather and her friends would love to teach you—”
“Mom!” Heather exclaimed, obviously not happy with her mother’s invitation.
Jane could not stand another second. “It’s okay, Heather!” Jane said, with a hefty dose of attitude. “We don’t want to put you out!”
Heather glared at Jane, then turned to Emily. “What happened to your head?”
“Heather,” Kathy said, her smile grinding into her facial muscles.
Emily looked the girl straight in the eye. “I fell off my bike. My tall bike.”
“It’s gonna leave a scar!” Heather said with a tenor of righteous contempt.
“Now, sweetheart,” Kathy said, gently touching her daughter on her shoulder.
“It’s true! She’s gonna have a big ol’ scar on the side of her head!”
Emily pulled closer to Jane, who quickly moved her cart forward. “We’ve gotta get going!” Jane stated with agitation.
“Oh, wait!” Kathy said, pulling a business card from the side pocket of her purse. “Here’s the number of our family doctor. Dr. Armstrong. He’s a prince. When