that’s a gorgeous bracelet,” I said, pointing to her tennis bracelet of tiny green jewels. “Did you get that here?”
She smiled. “No. We’ve got nice stuff here, but it’s more for the tourist crowd, you know?”
“Sure.” On her right wrist she wore four golden bangles, along with the green-jeweled tennis bracelet. She had matching earrings and a necklace, each with a larger, teardrop version of the green gem. Her fingers sparkled as well. For all I knew, she could be wearing $19.95 worth of cubic Zirconia or $1995 worth of emeralds. Either way, Tina must certainly have noticed the extravagance, so I didn’t have anything new to report. Besides, the fact that Annika owned nice-looking jewelry didn’t prove a thing. “You guys get much shoplifting here?”
“We’ve got mirrors,” she said, nodding over my shoulder. “We try to keep a good eye on things, but sometimes people get a five-finger discount. It’s mostly old ladies in their fifties, if you can believe that.” She took my money, made change, and handed the package to me.
“Thank you,” I said. I glanced at Kaitlyn on my way out. She was the picture of youthful innocence, and I didn’t want to ask her questions in front of Annika. They would be sure to talk about it after I left, and if one of them was the embezzler, she would be on her guard. I would come back on a day when only Kaitlyn was working, or Kaitlyn and the other girl, to see if they’d offer anything about Annika or any other suspicions they had. Of course, since the stealing wasn’t shift-specific, two of them could be in cahoots, but that seemed unlikely. Stealing from a till seemed like an activity best done alone.
I strolled over to the Turtle Stew and relished the familiar sight of the red Naugahyde booths, bustling wait staff, and tables crammed with hungry, happy people. It smelled like fresh-baked bread and slow-cooked meats, with an undercurrent of sauerkraut, or some other exotic German fare. The Stew was a full-service restaurant with a set-up bar, which meant that if you wanted hard liquor, you had to bring it yourself. The locals were usually four to a table, couples who would play 500 or Solo after supper, a big bottle of Canadian Club in a handcrafted carry case between them. Out-of-towners sipped wine or 3.2 beer, which you could buy on site.
When it was my turn to order, I picked one of my favorites, my tummy feeling warm at the thought of the comfort food. “Tuna casserole, green beans, and a salad with French dressing on the side. Can I get sunflower seeds on that? And it’s to go.”
I read the community board as I waited, my food anticipation high dulled by the thought that this might be the last time I’d buy takeout from the Stew. Oh, well. I can always visit. In less than twelve hours, I’d gladly have given a kidney to return to the normalcy of that moment.
I woke early on Tuesday morning, feeling so organized that I managed to take Luna for a forty-five-minute walkjog before I headed off to work. It was hot out like an orange stovetop ring, but I was in too good a mood to complain. I had found a fantastic librarian to take my place and do a much better job than I ever could, Ron Sims knew I was leaving and hadn’t been mad, and I had my whole future ahead of me. Starting over is hard, I acknowledged, but I was brave for trying. I wasn’t a quitter, I was a leader. I could enroll in some grad classes at the U of M, maybe land a TA position if there were any left, and force some direction back in my life.
That’s what I told myself as I steered the Toyota along snaky Whiskey Road, one bare foot with blue-painted toenails resting on the driver’s side window, the other on the gas pedal. I was heading to work three hours early to clean the library from top to bottom and get it ready for its new boss. I reached over to crank up the Tom Petty song leaking out my stereo and riding the acrid air, wondering about the high whine in the song,
She smiled. “No. We’ve got nice stuff here, but it’s more for the tourist crowd, you know?”
“Sure.” On her right wrist she wore four golden bangles, along with the green-jeweled tennis bracelet. She had matching earrings and a necklace, each with a larger, teardrop version of the green gem. Her fingers sparkled as well. For all I knew, she could be wearing $19.95 worth of cubic Zirconia or $1995 worth of emeralds. Either way, Tina must certainly have noticed the extravagance, so I didn’t have anything new to report. Besides, the fact that Annika owned nice-looking jewelry didn’t prove a thing. “You guys get much shoplifting here?”
“We’ve got mirrors,” she said, nodding over my shoulder. “We try to keep a good eye on things, but sometimes people get a five-finger discount. It’s mostly old ladies in their fifties, if you can believe that.” She took my money, made change, and handed the package to me.
“Thank you,” I said. I glanced at Kaitlyn on my way out. She was the picture of youthful innocence, and I didn’t want to ask her questions in front of Annika. They would be sure to talk about it after I left, and if one of them was the embezzler, she would be on her guard. I would come back on a day when only Kaitlyn was working, or Kaitlyn and the other girl, to see if they’d offer anything about Annika or any other suspicions they had. Of course, since the stealing wasn’t shift-specific, two of them could be in cahoots, but that seemed unlikely. Stealing from a till seemed like an activity best done alone.
I strolled over to the Turtle Stew and relished the familiar sight of the red Naugahyde booths, bustling wait staff, and tables crammed with hungry, happy people. It smelled like fresh-baked bread and slow-cooked meats, with an undercurrent of sauerkraut, or some other exotic German fare. The Stew was a full-service restaurant with a set-up bar, which meant that if you wanted hard liquor, you had to bring it yourself. The locals were usually four to a table, couples who would play 500 or Solo after supper, a big bottle of Canadian Club in a handcrafted carry case between them. Out-of-towners sipped wine or 3.2 beer, which you could buy on site.
When it was my turn to order, I picked one of my favorites, my tummy feeling warm at the thought of the comfort food. “Tuna casserole, green beans, and a salad with French dressing on the side. Can I get sunflower seeds on that? And it’s to go.”
I read the community board as I waited, my food anticipation high dulled by the thought that this might be the last time I’d buy takeout from the Stew. Oh, well. I can always visit. In less than twelve hours, I’d gladly have given a kidney to return to the normalcy of that moment.
I woke early on Tuesday morning, feeling so organized that I managed to take Luna for a forty-five-minute walkjog before I headed off to work. It was hot out like an orange stovetop ring, but I was in too good a mood to complain. I had found a fantastic librarian to take my place and do a much better job than I ever could, Ron Sims knew I was leaving and hadn’t been mad, and I had my whole future ahead of me. Starting over is hard, I acknowledged, but I was brave for trying. I wasn’t a quitter, I was a leader. I could enroll in some grad classes at the U of M, maybe land a TA position if there were any left, and force some direction back in my life.
That’s what I told myself as I steered the Toyota along snaky Whiskey Road, one bare foot with blue-painted toenails resting on the driver’s side window, the other on the gas pedal. I was heading to work three hours early to clean the library from top to bottom and get it ready for its new boss. I reached over to crank up the Tom Petty song leaking out my stereo and riding the acrid air, wondering about the high whine in the song,
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