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“Yes, sir. It’s the deluxe arrangement you selected.”

“It looks cheap.”

I glance at the flowers.

Then at him.

“Well, I can certainly add more greenery if you’d prefer…”

“Maybe if you spent less time standing around and more time doing your job, you could get an order right.”

My stomach tightens.

There it is.

That familiar sensation.

The one that makes me want to apologize even when I haven’t done anything wrong.

“I’m happy to make adjustments,” I say carefully.

He scoffs.

“Unbelievable. Is there someone competent I can speak to?”

A shadow falls across the counter.

Oh, no.

I know that shadow.

“Apologize.”

Vidar’s voice is quiet.

Almost conversational.

Mr. Henderson turns.

And turns some more.

His face drains of color.

“Excuse me?”

Vidar stands beside me, his enormous arms relaxed at his sides.

He isn’t shouting.

He isn’t even frowning.

Somehow, that’s worse.

“You spoke disrespectfully to her,” he says. “Apologize.”

Mr. Henderson swallows.

“I…uh…”