“I know, and it’s fine.It was just logistics.I’ll probably be a while and she’ll be here waiting.We were supposed to grab some groceries because the fridge is empty, and also, Carson is back tonight and I’m not sure what to do about that.But I’ll figure it out.”
“Carson is seventeen.Why don’t you call and let him help you work that part out.Or, if Nate’s okay with it, he can crash at ours.Tatum could ride to school with him and save us a drive.As for the groceries, I was going to stop and grab a few things on my way home.I can take Bess.”
Again, I hesitate.
“You can trust me, you know,” Savvy adds with a smirk.“I wear a badge and a gun and everything.”
I would trust Savvy with my life any day of the week, but this isn’t about me.
It’s about Bess.
Bess
“I really appreciate this.”
My friend tosses me a grin.“Not a big deal.”
I asked her to make an extra stop at The General Store on Elm Street to see if maybe they have a hand mixer.It’s one thing Hugo’s kitchen is missing, and I’d really like to do a little baking, starting with the quiche I’m hoping to make us for dinner tonight.I already have all the necessary ingredients in the cooler bag in the back of Savvy’s SUV.
“Hang on.Let me get out first,” she says as she pulls into the parking bay in front of the store.
Similar to what Hugo does, she rounds the front of the vehicle and looks up and down the street before opening the door for me.
“I’m starting to feel a little awkward with this whole routine,” I confess as I get out.
“I know, but we’re merely being cautious.It’s unlikely anyone is going to try anything in broad daylight in the middle of town anyway, but better safe than sorry.”
I can’t really argue with that, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, everyone is looking out for me.
As I am every time I walk into this store, I am completely overwhelmed with the sheer volume of products it carries.There isn’t a square inch of shelf or wall space left that isn’t packed with a random mix of items ranging from toothpicks to engine parts.The General Store is a world of its own, and walking in here is like stepping into an alternate universe.One of knickknacks and nostalgia, quality and kitsch, history and innovation jumbled together on every shelf.
Nobody comes out to offer help.If you want help, you find your way to the counter at the back of the store, where most of the time you’ll find Mabel Jenkins knitting another afghan or baby sweater to be donated to a family in need somewhere.
That reminds me, Mabel would be a good person to approach about Phil’s initiative.If there’s anyone in the know about the needs of the people of Silence, it would be Mabel.
Not today though.Today I look forward to the challenge of rummaging through the century-old, jam-packed store by myself, on my quest for a handheld mixer.A little highlight in what are pretty bleak days.
“Do you even know if they have one?”Savvy asks behind me, sneezing when I lift a folded fur partially covering a box I can’t identify.
“Nope, but don’t yuck my yum,” I warn her, sad to find the box contains a wrench set and not the object of my desire.
Savvy does not share my love for this place, which is why I’m so appreciative she’s indulging me.She’s commented many times over the years how the place is a fire risk, no longer structurally sound, and a hazard to the public’s safety.She’s probably right on all those accounts, but even as our sheriff, she’d have a hell of a time trying to close down this treasured store.She’d have a riot on her hands, and I might be leading the mob.
“Fine,” she grumbles.“But I’m about to pee my pants here.This baby has decided on top of my bladder is its new favorite hangout.”
“So go to the bathroom,” I prompt her.“I’m sure Mabel will let you use it.”
“You’ll have to come with me, I can’t leave you alone.”
I snort in amusement.
“Alone?”I direct a pointed look at one of the many mirrors on the ceiling.Mabel’s own security system allows her to keep an eye on every nook and cranny of this store.
“Trust me when I say, Big Sister is watching us.”
In the mirror’s reflection I catch Mabel putting down her crochet hook to wiggle her fingers at us.
“Oh, all right.But don’t you go anywhere,” Savvy concedes.
