“Bless you, bless you.” They kissed my cheeks.
“I have tamales for you to thank you for the food. What a blessing!”
“Please keep your food for your boys,” Lexi told them, handing the foil-wrapped plate back to a young, dark-haired kid.
Another elderly woman pinched my cheek.
“Such a handsome man, and you’ve been so generous sharing groceries with us. I’m old and don’t have any children, and I think of you like a grandson,” a teary-eyed, blue-haired little old lady said. “A very hot, handsome grandson.”
“Connie,” Lexi hissed.
“Yes, please do keep her under control,” another elderly but more well-dressed woman said. “He’s very well-bred, as you can see. Good sir, I have a great-niece you may be interested in.”
“No one wants your ratchet niece, Mrs. Turner,” another elderly woman hollered as McKenna, one of my assistants, helped her down the stairs.
We pretended not to see each other as the woman, who I assumed must be her grandmother, railed at the other elderly woman.
“Grenadine, please,” Lexi begged. “Grayson doesn’t want to hear all of this.”
“He should have stayed out of the swamp if he doesn’t want to get dirty,” Grenadine declared.
“Can I make a small request on the next grocery order?” Martha asked, pulling several coupons out of her pocket.
“He is not taking requests.” Mrs. Turner, visibly appalled, started batting the other woman with her purse. “You must excuse them. They do not come from good families,” she informed me.
Lexi was trying very hard to corral the chaos.
Two elderly men shuffled over to me, talking excitedly about the steak I had apparently gifted them.
“I had to hide it from my wife. She doesn’t let me eat red meat.” The elderly man sounded like he was trying to whisper but was telling me all this at a shout.
“Ask him if he can up the egg order to two dozen. I only got three eggs last week.”
I pulled out a stack of gift cards. “Maybe these can help cover any gaps.”
There were cries of gratitude, and one woman fainted.
“Martha’s just drunk,” Grenadine told me, shooing me away as I rushed to help the woman up. “Just leave her there; she’s used to it.”
“I need to be carried to my bed,” the woman said from the floor.
“No,” Grenadine barked.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more,” I told the small crowd of Lexi’s neighbors.
“And so humble,” Connie swooned.
“I hate to admit it, Lexi,” Grenadine stage-whispered to her, “but Mrs. Turner might actually be right. Your boss might be too good for you.”
There was more applause and old women hugging me and kissing my cheek.
I gave Lexi a quick peck on the lips while McKenna passed out gift cards to Lexi’s eager neighbors.
“See you later?”
She nodded and squeezed my hand.
51
