She grunted again.“Nobody said anything about badmouthing.”
“Right, right.”
“Just that, well...”
I was content to let the silence drag out.Not like I didn’t know the trajectory of her argument: Irene Gallagher was a thrift store regular, this was well-trod territory, and it’d end with an offer I wasn’t unfamiliar with, too.
“My Julie still hasn’t found her Mister Right.”It was said with the airy, casual tone of someone who’d very much like you to think they were changing the subject, actually.
“Is that so, Mrs Gallagher.”I chewed back my smile.
“Which makes no sense, because she’s a lovely girl.Whole life ahead of her.Everything in order.”
Poor Julie sounded a lot like livestock, at least as her mother framed it.Or perhaps a used car.
“I’m sure she’ll find the right guy soon,” I ventured.
Mrs Gallagher glanced up, sharply.“Well, you could just come out and say it.”
I frowned at her across the rails.“Say what?”
“That you think she’s an old maid, destined to be a spinster.”
Sighing, I set down the gloves I’d been trying to convince myself were actually a pair.“I said, and thought, nothing of the sort, Mrs Gallagher.You know I like Julie.”
She opened her mouth.
“As a friend, I mean,” I added quickly.Ignored the glare I got in return.“She’s a lovely person, a credit to you and Mr Gallagher, and the right guy is clearly out there for her, somewhere.”
Maybe it was the emphasis I’d put on “out there”; perhaps it was just that Mrs Gallagher remembered this part from the twenty, thirty, maybe forty or more times we’d had this discussion before.I waited, regardless, for the pursing of lips.
The expression was like that of someone sipping pure vinegar.She hoisted a brown cardigan up by the hanger.“How much is this one, then?”
“Does it not have a tag?”
Now the expression was fresh vinegar and exasperation.“Would I ask you, young man, if it did?”
I clenched my toes in my shoes.Anything more obvious, and I feared she’d spot my frustration.
“Let’s say eight dollars, then.”
Calling Julie the neighborhood slut - which would be unfair, since as far as I knew she was far from that - probably would’ve prompted a better reaction.Mrs Gallagher stared at the cardigan as though I’d just declared it European royalty.
“For this?”
I took a deep breath.“What budget did you have in mind today, Mrs Gallagher?”
She pursed her lips.“I’ll not be spending more than five dollars.”
I widened my eyes, as if in astonished surprise.“Well, what a happy coincidence.That particular delight of a cardigan just so happens to be in today’s five-dollar-sale.”
A nod, as if she’d expected it to be the case all along.“You should put more signs up, when you’re running these promotions.Then people would know what to expect from you.”
Including, I thought to myself, a big rainbow flag across my chest, and maybe a banner saying “I’m gay, keep your daughters to yourselves” on the wall behind me.
“That’s an excellent idea,” I said instead.“I’ll bear that in mind, for next time.”
#
