“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” suggests Claire. She walks next to Kristie, and when her arm swings into Kristie’s neither one of them moves away from the other.
Back in the food section Kristie gives Claire a carton of Goldfish bags to shelve; she’s moved on to the Dilly Green Beans, locally made and pickled. Claire is chock-full of questions. She points at a row of jars high on the shelf. “What’s that?”
“Blueberry preserves.”
“And what’s this?
“Spicy mayonnaise.”
“How spicy?”
“Very.”
“And when all of this food gets delivered where do the trucks pull up? Front of the store or back of the store?”
“Back,” says Kristie. “There’s a loading dock.” She anticipates Claire’s next question. “Before you ask, you’re not allowed back there.”
Claire holds up her hands, palms out, traffic-cop stance, and says, “Okay, okay.”
Kristie puts a hand on her kumquat again, and Claire asks, “Why do you keep touching your stomach? Do you have a stomachache?”
“No,” says Kristie, dropping her hand. Claire tells a story about how her brother once threw up after riding the roller coaster at Six Flags Great Adventure.
“Did you throw up too?” asked Kristie.
“Too small to ride it,” says Claire regretfully. After a minute of concentrated shelf stacking she adds, “But I wouldn’t have.”
“I believe you.”
Next Claire tells Kristie about a video of a gorilla she saw online. The gorilla was in a zoo, and a four-year-old boy somehow crawled or fell into the enclosure. Claire’s voice gains strength and steam as she tells the story. She’s at the part where the gorilla is dragging the little boy through the water, maybe trying to protecthim, maybe trying to hurt him, when they see Diana marching back toward the food section. Behind her is a fortysomething man with brown hair and a navy-blue polo shirt. Behindhimis an older woman with glasses, a soft belly, and a T-shirt that readsworld’s best grandma.
“Uh-oh,” says Claire. “I’m outta here.” And in a flash she is gone.
Diana jerks her thumb at the man and says, “This is Detective Harding. He’s looking for the little girl who came to see you, Kristie.”
“Little girl?” says Kristie, like she’s not sure what the phrase means.
Diana says, “She wasjusthere! She was helping you stock the shelves. Sort of a boy haircut?” Diana is in her middle sixties; she hasn’t received the message that there’s no such thing as boy haircuts and girl haircuts anymore. There are only haircuts. “She was talking to you!” says Diana. “She was right here.”
“Hmm,” says Kristie.
“I’m the one who drove her here,” says the self-proclaimed World’s Best Grandma. “Picked her up on the side of the road. I said to myself, what’s this little peanut doing all by herself on North Shore Drive? There’s not much of a shoulder on that stretch. You wouldn’t catchmewalking there. So I slowed down and asked her what she was doing. She said she needed a ride to Renys, wouldn’t tell me anything else. I’ve been keeping my eye on her the whole time, since I dropped her off. She’s averydetermined little girl. I let her get out of the car, but I didn’t let her out of my sight. I would never. I’ve got three grandbabies myself.” She points to her shirt, for proof. “And I called over to my brother who works for the Rockland P.D.”
“At the very same time I spoke with the child’s mother,” says the detective. “I—ah, I know the family.” His cheeks pink up ever so slightly when he says that. He turns to Diana and says, “I’m going to need to conduct a thorough search of the premises. And I’mgoing to have to ask you temporarily to lock all doors leading in or out of the store.”
Diana says, “Certainly, Detective.” Diana never uses words likecertainlyso this makes Kristie giggle on the inside, even though her stomach is also knotting up on Claire’s behalf. Whereisshe?
Off goes Diana to comply, and the detective turns to Kristie and smiles. She tries not to smile back, out of loyalty to Claire, but she can’t help it. The smile is contagious.
“Let me look for her too, okay?” says Kristie. “I think she trusts me.” When she saystrustsshe imagines her kumquat turning over, like it’s lifting its face toward the sun.
The World’s Best Grandma makes a sudden noise and points enthusiastically behind the detective and Kristie, and there’s Claire, standing at the end of the pajama aisle.
“You don’t have to look for me,” says Claire. “I’m right here.” Somehow a streak of dirt has landed across the face of the Notorious R.B.G. “You can lower your weapons.”
“No weapons,” says Detective Harding. And then he says, “Hello, Claire. It’s nice to see you again.”
“You called thepolice?” says Claire, stricken, looking at Kristie.
