“It was assault,” he said, sliding off his stool. “And I think getting to know me better starts now.”
He took the spoon from her hand and led her back to the bedroom.
21
Ramsey was loungingin her manager’s office, feet propped on an empty chair, drinking a latte and watching a newsfeed about a bridge collapse, when Paul strolled in from his lunch break.
Making no effort to hide that he was out of sorts, he grunted something that might have been a greeting and asked Ramsey what she wanted.
“Not at thing,” said Ramsey. “I had a message you wanted to see me. Did you, or was someone having me on?”
Paul dropped in the chair behind his desk, rubbed the creases in his forehead as he thought. “Yeah. I guess I did tell Mason that. Hours ago.”
“You weren’t here when I dropped by the first couple of times, and I couldn’t find you on the monitors so I went back to work and figured I’d catch you when you came back from lunch. Here you are, and here I am.” She didn’t ask him where he’d been hiding when she was looking for him. Not only wasn’t her business, but also she didn’t care. “What’d you need?”
“First, get your feet off that chair.”
“Yes, sir.” She pushed the chair back and let her feet fall to the floor. She sat up and regarded him expectantly, if a little cheekily.
“What’s your interest in home improvement these days?”
“My interest in home improvement? I guess it’s the same as anyone who watches too much HGTV. Always inspired by a new project. Right now, it’s a closet remodel,” she said, thinking of Sullivan’s walk-in.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about here in the store. It’s come to my attention that you’re spending more shift time there. It’s not a high product loss area of the store, so what’s that about?”
Ramsey did not feign bewilderment. She genuinely was puzzled. “I wasn’t aware that I was spending more time there than I usually do. Did someone complain?”
“No, but I watch the monitors, replay shifts when I think it’s warranted, and I noticed the activity.”
“Myactivity?” she asked, pointing a finger at her chest. “Or the bizarre run on paint in hardware?”
“Huh?”
“If you were viewing the monitors, you must have seen that your decision to accept those pallets of Caribbean Coast was a good one.”
“Oh, that. Why do you say it’s bizarre?”
“I wasn’t referring to your decision, although you have to admit it was at the very least a gamble. I was referring to the customer interest in the paint. For one thing, it’s pre-mixed. Most people pick a color from the sample tags and whoever is working in paints mixes it up by adding color to the base. Caribbean Coast is ready to go. Mason said neutral colors are popular, so maybe that explains it. I find it curious, that’s all. I guess that accounts for me hanging around there more often, if I am. As I said, I’m not aware.”
“I thought you might say that.” Paul opened a side drawer and withdrew a piece of paper and held it out so Ramsey could see the pie chart that occupied the better part of the page.
“A color wheel?” asked Ramsey. “I already know I’m autumn. What are you? Winter, I bet.”
Paul snapped the paper so it fluttered at the end of his fingertips. “It’s a pie chart. It shows how much time you spend in any area of the store during a typical shift.”
“You made that?” Clearly, he had way too much time on his hands, but Ramsey decided she probably shouldn’t point that out. “May I see?” She extended her arm, fully expecting him to pass the paper to her without hesitation. Therewashesitation, though, and she was immediately suspicious. It was not out of the question that the chart was a fabrication to support his contention that she was overstaying her welcome in home improvement. Paul liked to be on the right side of any dispute. He was not unlike her ex-husband in that regard.
Ramsey closed her eyes briefly, dismissing that image. Perhaps it was her recent conversation with Sullivan that brought Jay so easily to mind as she was sitting with Paul, but whatever provoked it, she didn’t like it. Not at all.
“May I?” she asked politely, keeping her arm extended. She was tempted to wiggle her fingers to encourage him to hand it over, but she did not want him to know how truly curious she was.
“Of course,” he said, just as if there had never been any doubt that he would give it to her.
Ramsey settled the chart on her side of his desk and leaned in to study it. “This is impressive,” she said. According to the chart, the slice of the pie that indicated her time in home improvement was twelve percent. She spent twenty-three percent in clothes and cosmetics. Eight percent at the coffee bar. Five percent in automotive. Ten percent in the pharmacy and another ten in guns and ammo. She patrolled the refrigerated meat section for six percent and jewelry for seven. Electronics was thirty percent. Finally, there was a pie slice devoted to miscellaneous, which she assumed was break time, interviewing shoplifters, writing reports, and watching the monitors. That accounted for twenty percent.
“Huh,” she said, sliding the chart toward him and settling back in her chair. “Interesting math.”
“What do you mean?”
