I have the urge to swipe my arm through the display of oranges and make him start over, but I don’t. Instead I turn on my heel and walk away.
“Wait,” he calls out. I turn back around, and he’s walking toward me, my phone in his hand.
Oh. I left it on the cart.
My thumb hits the screen as I take it, and it lights up.
Gregory glances at it and frowns. He pulls that same earbud out again. “Hey, isn’t that the girl who moved away?”
I stare at the photo for a long moment. I don’t look at him when I finally say, “Yeah, that’s Kat. She’s my best friend.”
I find my dad in his office, papers spread across his desk and an angry-looking Excel spreadsheet on the computer screen. He’s wearing his daily uniform: a navy-blue Triton polo, khakis, and apair of brown Cole Haan oxfords I picked out for him last year. His brown hair is turning silver around his temples, which he’s currently rubbing with his fingers.
“Hi, Dad.”
He slips his wire-rimmed glasses back on and looks up with tired eyes. He hates inventory. “Hey, kiddo.”
I walk over and give him a hug. “Some guy was stacking the fruit wrong,” I say. “But don’t worry, I set him straight.”
Dad’s brows pop up. “Met Gregory, did you?”
“Yeah.”
“Seems like a nice guy. A little quiet, but he’s catching on quick.”
“I didn’t know you were hiring for the summer,” I say, which is kind of silly. It’s not like he typically runs his business decisions by me.
“Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to keep the place open when you told me you wouldn’t be around this summer,” he teases. “Thought I might have to shut down completely.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, and he grins. “Want some help?”
“I won’t say no to that.” He puts me to work in canned goods, which I usually hate but don’t argue with because it’s far away from Gregory. I rest my clipboard across one forearm as I make my way through soup and move on to vegetables, selecting random items to count and record so my dad can check it against his automated system.
I check my phone a couple of times as I work.
Nothing.
I take a break around five. I’m notlookingfor Gregory as Ihead toward the back door, but if I happen to come across him on my way out… well, he’d probably need correcting on something anyway.
There’s a quiet corner between the grocery store and the adjacent doughnut shop, far enough from the dumpsters and loading dock that it serves as an outside break area of sorts. The store backs up to a line of trees, which in the winter is a dreary and brown backdrop. But this time of year it’s bursting with lush green foliage.
There are two picnic tables and a couple of pallets on the concrete, piled with cardboard boxes broken down and ready to be hauled off for recycling. A security light mounted on the side of the building keeps the space lit up, so even when it gets dark, it doesn’t feel creepy.
Usually, anyway. I’m about to sit down when a rustling sound from my left catches me off guard. I freeze and quickly glance around. I don’t see anyone else, and I remain still, listening. I hear it again, coming from a small, shallow alcove near the doughnut shop’s back entrance, accompanied by a soft mewl. The sun’s hitting the building at just the right angle that a long shadow stretches along that edge.
It sounds like an animal, and I relax a little. This is exactly where Kat and I found Margarine all those years ago. I swear it’s not, like, full of rotting food or anything else that would attract animals, but there’s a big field nearby, and it does seem like a safe spot where a homeless pet could take refuge.
I creep in that direction, slow and steady. Something brushesmy leg, and I yelp as my heart launches into my throat. A black cat jolts back with an arch of its back.
“Oh,” I sigh in relief. “You scared me.”
I kneel and reach my hand out in apology.
Yellow eyes stare at me for a few seconds. “I won’t hurt you,” I say softly, and it finally steps forward to gingerly sniff my fingers. I don’t move at first, allowing the cat to inspect me, but when it digs its head into my palm in a blatant request for scratches, I chuckle and oblige. “You’re a sweet thing, huh?”
I run my hand down its back and curve a finger around its tail. I take a peek—I think it’s a girl. She’s small and thin, but not in too bad shape. Her purrs vibrate against my skin, and I love on her for another few minutes, then sneak back inside for a can of cat food (that I’ll definitely pay for tomorrow) and two plastic containers from the break room, one of which I fill with water. I set her little buffet up against the brick, and she digs in.
I’m about to leave her to eat in peace when another shadow moves in the alcove. A second cat, this one scruffier-looking and gray, appears. It sniffs at the food, whiskers twitching, but stops several feet away.
