Ker-clunk.
She’shalfway through the door.
“Youknow my nephew is…”Shetries to move her walker again, but it won’t budge. “IthinkI’mstuck on that nail again.”
“Oh, sorry.Ikeep forgetting to hammer it in.”
It’sthe third time in the last couple of weeks she’s gotten caught on the nail protruding from the doorframe.Carlyextricated her the first time.Butshe was much happier when oldJerrythe cobbler unstuck her a few days ago.Sheblushed.Andgiggled.
“Here, let me.”Igrab the sides of the walker and lift it over the nail.
“Thereyou go.Freedom.”
Ker-clunk, ker-clunk, ker-clunk,and she’s in the middle of the shop.
Shespins around as quickly as a senior with a freshly healed hip can, and plops herself down in the seat of the walker.
“Whooo, that’s better.Right.”Shelooks up at me from under the pink sparkles. “Mynephew who’s on the council told me something.”Shetakes my hand. “AndI’mafraid you’re not going to like it.”
Iknew it.Theysaid they’d order the summer hanging baskets from the local nursery, butIhad a feeling it was all talk.They’resuch a bunch of penny pinchers,I’dalways suspected they’d end up going to some discount giant likeGardenWorldinstead.
“You’reworrying me,Mrs.Bentley.Goon.”
“It’son the down low,” she whispers. “I’mnot supposed to tell anyone.”Sheleans to look around me and check no one’s coming in. “ButIcan’t keep it from you.”
She’son the verge of tears.Maybeit’s not the hanging baskets after all.Maybeit is something actually bad.Myheart sinks.
“Ilook forward to seeing you girls every morning.”Hervoice has gone a little shaky. “You’reso good to me.”
Icrouch down beside her as she puts her other hand on top of mine. “What’sgoing on,Mrs.B?”
“It’sthe site of the old theater.”
ThePictureHouse, a bit farther along on the opposite side ofMainStreet, burned down last year.Sucha shame.Theart deco building was a real treasure, and there’s been a giant hole there ever since.
Mrs.Bentleyscrews up her mouth. “Aplanning application’s gone in.”
Ah, right.Now, what could upset her this much?Asex shop?Actually, after the way her face lit up atJerry, maybe not.Whateverit is, it can’t be the catastrophe her expression suggests.
“Okay.Forwhat?”
“Oh,Polly.”Shestrokes my hand. “Oh, dearPolly.”
Shecasts her moist gaze around the shop, then settles back on me. “AYellowBarn.Theywant to put aYellowBarnthere.”
Ipause for a second.
YellowBarn?
Thatcan’t be right.Shemust have misunderstood.Iblow out a breath and my stomach relaxes.
“There’sno wayYellowBarnwould want to come toWarmSprings.We’reway too small for a giant supermarket.Buteven if they did, it would be out of town with the big box stores.Nothere, onMainStreet.”Isqueeze her hand. “Yournephew must be mistaken.”
“Iwish he was, my love.Butthey’ve definitely put in an application.”Shepats the back of my hand. “Andthey’d be right on your doorstep.”
Yup, a grocery store with the might ofYellowBarnwould crush me like a crisp spring pea under a giant rainboot.Notto mention it would be a garish monstrosity with its bright yellow storefront and hideous red and black logo that would ruin our charming street.
Butthat can’t possibly be what’s happening.Itmakes no sense.Soeverything’s fine.
