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Probably because she had enough quiet time to notice it there, all alone as she was.
She didn’t, technically, have to call Elliott to let him know she was going out, either. But he’d asked. Insisted. And she didn’t want to be more of a pain in his backside than she’d already been.
When his agreement to accompany her lit a burst of excitement inside her, she knew she had to start getting out more. To get a life.
Living alone, being alone every evening, just didn’t agree with her. Maybe she should find someplace to volunteer in the evenings. And start looking for a new roommate.
The fact that the weight had started to slowly lift from her heart as she walked down the huge aisles of floor-to-ceiling warehoused bulk sale items with Elliott walking quietly beside her, his hands in the pockets of his black chino pants, reiterated her earlier thought. She needed a roommate. To get out more.
She...
“Sorry about that.” His deep voice sounded beside her as he pushed the oversize cart that was getting heavy beneath the load she was piling in it. Cases of organically grown beans for salads. Toilet paper for downstairs and up. Paper towels. Trash bags for home and the shop.
“Sorry about what?” With a frown she glanced over at him.
“The stares. They can be off-putting the first few times.”
He didn’t quite smile. But she liked the way his eyes had softened. She was also confused. “What stares?”
With a movement of his shoulder he directed her gaze to the right. A teenager was looking at them. He turned away as soon as he saw them noticing him.
And she glanced at Elliott. “Maybe he likes your sweater.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t say anything else, and Marie turned down the aisle of professional-grade vacuum cleaners, smoke detectors and air purifiers. She read the specifics of the three models offered. Couldn’t decide between more BTUs or square footage estimates. Asking Elliott, as she’d have asked Gabrielle anytime in the past that she’d been purchasing a home appliance, she was relieved by his input and made what she was confident was the best choice.
“Is this for the shop?” he asked as he lifted it into the cart for her.
“Nope. It’s for home.” She told him about Ben, smoking in the hallway.
“It’s against Arapahoe rules to smoke in any public places,” Elliott said.
“I know.”
“Did you serve him a notice?”
“No.”
“But you asked him to stop?”
“No.”
He didn’t say any more. Didn’t question her. But she felt as if he had.
“Ben’s got cancer. He’s dying. His wife, Matilda, doesn’t want him to smoke, afraid that he’s shortening what time he has left. The man’s been a smoker since he was a kid working in his dad’s auto shop. It’s one of the few pleasures he has left. If he can have a few happy moments each day, sneaking his smokes out in the hall, and keep Matilda happy, too, thinking that he quit, then I’m sure not going to stand in his way.”
Not waiting for Elliott’s response, she moved on to the next aisle. And noticed, as they rounded the corner, the shocked look on the face of the middle-aged woman who’d been standing in front of a display of pots and pans. She looked from Elliott to her and back to Elliott again. Eventually she turned back to the cookware, leaving Marie with a huge dose of defensiveness where Elliott was concerned.
He didn’t say anything, so neither did she. And on they shopped. Not saying much. It was just past dinnertime and employees were out with little metal carts, serving samples of many of the food items the warehouse had for sale that week. As always, she passed them by. Elliott didn’t skip a single one of them—earning him another stare or two.
She earned herself one—from him—when she made a stop at the candy aisle and added a ten-pound bag of little individually wrapped chocolate bars to the cart.
“You serve all homemade food.”
“I know.”
“Surely you don’t go through that amount of candy at home.” She noticed him look at her figure.
“It’s not for me,” she said. “You’ve met Janice Maynard and her mother, Clara.” Janice, a seventy-three-year-old spinster, who lived with her ninety-five-year-old mother, had been in the shop one of the days reporters had swarmed the place after news of Connelly Investments’ fraudulent activities hit the internet. Janice had been upset by the cacophony and Elliott had personally escorted the two women to the private elevator and up to their apartment.
