“Yeah, that is weird,” I say in solidarity, my mind grinding on what that means in the context of Tony and the warehouse.
“I checked out some of the other ads,” Simone continues. “Most of them are for businesses that don’t exist.”
“Huh?” That can’t be right.
“Echo Mills is small, even for a small town. There ain’t that many businesses that serve the folks around here. I started googling the names I didn’t recognize. They don’t exist. And the ones that do are listed with all the wrong information. I checked with a few folks, and they didn’t pay for ad space either. We looked for a number to call, but there’s not anything at all in that thing indicating who’s responsible for it. It just shows up in my mailbox once a month. Something shady is going on there, mark my words.” She redirects her attention back to Grams’s nails.
“Something shady,” I repeat. Why the hell would Tony print a magazine for free? If he’s not getting advertising revenue, what is he getting? “I’ll toss it for you.”
“Thanks.”
I move for the garbage, but when she isn’t looking, I slip the magazine into my purse. I want to show it to Damientomorrow night when he’s back from his secret business and tell him what Simone said. This magazine is dated October, this month, which means that somewhere, Gold Weaver Inc is still operating, and I’m the only one who knows Tony is behind it. But the real mystery is why.
My gut tells me if I can figure that out, I’ll have him.
“All right, Nora. You’re good to go,” Simone says some time later. She helps Grams up, and I meet her halfway.
“Oh, Eloise, can you help me get my credit card out of my purse?” Grams tries her best to move the bag hooked on her elbow closer to me, but she only manages to rock it in my direction. She looks tired and leans on me with most of her weight.
“Not today, Nora,” Simone says with a smile. “Today’s on me.”
Grams grins. “No. You deserve to be paid! You shouldn’t give away your services for free.”
Simone pats Nora’s back and looks her straight in the eye in a way that makes a lump form in my throat. “Please let me do this for you, Nora. You’ve been such a good customer over the years.”
The shop grows conspicuously quiet as the three of us soak in the moment. And then my Grams hugs Simone with strength I know she doesn’t have to spare. Afterward, I help her into my Jeep. She weighs nothing, which helps because I have to lift her into the seat. Once I have her buckled in, Grams places a hand on mine. “I should have given her a tip, at least.”
I agree. “I got it, Grams.” I close her door and head back inside.
Simone smiles warmly when she sees me, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Sorry if I made things uncomfortable. She’sjust so?—”
“I know.” Grams looks like someone who is dying now. There’s no denying it. “Listen, she won’t let me take her home unless I give you a tip, and you deserve one.” I reach into my bag and pull out a ten.
Simone holds it up to the light briefly and then puts it in the register.
“Why do you do that?” I ask, remembering how Hank at the Mobil station had held up my hundred before he’d stolen it from me.
“Sorry. Just a habit. I’m checking for counterfeits. We take so much cash here, I have to be careful. It used to be a problem a few years ago.”
“Oh? I saw a cashier at another store do it, and I was wondering what they were looking for. I had no idea it was a problem here.”
Simone opens the register again and holds my ten up to the light once more. “Come around by me, and I’ll show you.” I sidle up next to her and look up at the bill. She points a beautifully manicured nail at it. “First thing I always check is that the president matches the denomination. One time I had George Washington on a ten-dollar bill!” We both laugh. “Those are the sloppy ones. Or, like the writing isn’t exactly straight. But most of the time, what I’m looking for is the red and blue fibers in the material itself. See here and here?” I do see. My artist’s eye picks it out immediately. “Also, sometimes counterfeits are faded at the edges or have fewer details in the art than a real bill. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, honestly. Luckily, I have insurance in case one slips by me.”
“You need insurance for that?”
“Oh, yeah. The bank has special machines that would catch it and take it out of circulation, but that means I haveto eat the loss. The insurance covers the lost funds. I’ve had to use it a time or two.”
“Even in tiny Echo Mills?”
“Sadly so.”
“Thanks for satisfying my curiosity.”
“You’re welcome, El. Take care. And thank you.” She holds up the ten.
I walk back out to the car, distracted as I try to put all the clues together. I climb behind the wheel knowing I’m missing something.
“Did she take the money?” Grams asks softly. She looks exhausted.
