I relaxed a bit as Frankie wandered off to pet some dogs passing by as I gave Christabelle a quick tutorial on how to run the cash register.
Even though every man who came in stopped dead in their tracks and stared slack-jawed at our new employee’s perfect round derriere bending over the cupcake counter in that tiny skirt, my husband didn’t pay her any special attention.
And when Frankie barely glanced at her the rest of the day I relaxed even more.
Maybe this would be fine.
But I felt uneasy somehow, like there was something I was missing.
“So how did you and Frankie meet?” Christabelle asked as I showed her how to run the credit card swiper.
“Junior year of college,” I replied.
“Ohh,” Christabelle said, and a light seemed to go off in her eyes. “Right after we broke up.”
A low, uneasy feeling seemed to settle in my gut.
Right afterwards?Please, don’t let me be the backup plan. . .
Should I say something to my husband?
So they were boyfriend and girlfriend. What did it matter really? After all, I hadn’t demanded he specify the exact detail of acquaintance.
“I knowyoudidn’t hire that silly flibbertigibbet,” Mrs. Greenberg hissed at me through the window later that afternoon, jabbing me in the small of the back with a knitting needle. “What’s going on here?”
Mrs. Greenberg was our 80-year-old neighbor who owned a knitting shop next door. Despite hating everyone in town, she ran for every local office, and after my husband had beaten her 99% to 1% in the recent mayoral election, she was particularly bitter.
I knew exactly what she was implying, but I wasn’t going to entertain it at all.
“Ridiculous,” I said crisply. “I assume you’re implying Frankie only hired her because she’s beautiful.But he’s barely even looked at her all day and barely spoken two words to her.”
“Mmhmm,” she said, pursing her lips together disapprovingly. “Your husband flirts with everyone. But not her. That’s suspicious.”
“Hey!” she suddenly barked at a beach goer who had stopped for a moment under her awning. “No looky-loos!”
I felt uneasy as she left to chase the man away.
Christabelle was already a big hit with the customers, very outgoing and bubbly. In that way she was a lot like Frankie.
Sometimes I wondered if I could really keep the attentions of a man of Frankie’s huge energy and vitality levels.
What if he got bored with me?
After all, in the ten years we’d been married he’d taken up surfing, marathons, ice fishing, flag football, acting, and interpretive dance.
I pushed down my insecurity, even though,very good at bookkeepingseemed like such a thin thread to tie a man down who had once free climbed in Yosemite National Park.
As we locked up for the afternoon, Frankie again barely acknowledged Christabelle beyond a nod.
This is normal, he’s just being a professional, I thought as he bounded up to Dale, who owned the fish and chips food cart down the street, and gave him an enormous hug goodbye.
Once again I tried to put Mrs. Greenberg’s words behind me.
She hates him, I reminded myself. She would love any excuse to call a new election and try to beat him.
My husband loved me. Of course he did.
I felt ridiculous, but I couldn’t help glancing up under my lashes at Frankie as we closed up for the night.
