Sadie takes the basket from Jillie and tries to hand it back to me.
"We don't need to interrupt your shopping."
"You're not."
That comes out too quickly.
Sadie's eyes lift to mine.
For one second, the grocery store fades slightly. There is only her, standing in the coffee aisle with snow melting on her boots and worry tucked behind her eyes.
Then Jillie grabs the front of Sadie's cart and pushes it directly into my shin.
Pain shoots up my leg.
"Ow."
"Sorry," Jillie says cheerfully. "The wheel is wobbly."
"It attacked me."
"Grocery carts do that sometimes."
Sadie gives me a helpless look.
"Welcome to errand day."
Somewhere behind us, Mrs. Bellamy whispers to another woman, "Errand day," like it’s a sacred romantic milestone.
I hear it.
Sadie hears it.
Jillie does not, which is probably for the best.
Sadie turns very slowly. "Mrs. Bellamy."
"What? I said nothing."
"You whispered very loudly."
"That's because my hearing is selective."
"That's not how hearing works."
"After forty-three years of marriage, everything becomes selective."
I should not laugh. I laugh.
Sadie shoots me a look. "Don't encourage her."
"I think she arrived encouraged."
Mrs. Bellamy points at me. "He's clever. Keep him."
Sadie's face turns pink. Jillie looks between all of us. "Keep him where?"
"In the community," Sadie says quickly.
