let me speak to him myself?”
Rayanne didn’t move. “He won’t. People have tried before.”
Which led Tiffany to wonder for a moment if they actually removed that sign during a transaction, and put it back when the poor suckers came back to return things. Or maybe it was sort of the Brigadoon of signs, appearing once every so often, and Tiffany was just out of luck this time. “Would you please ask him to come over so I can talk to him?”
“Mom.” There was a tugging on the back of her shirt.
“Shhh!” She tossed over her shoulder.
A few moments passed, then another tug. “But
Mom
.”
“Kate, honestly, you
have
to just wait a minute, okay?” Tiffany rasped, hoping not to call attention to herself. “I need to talk to one more person, then we’ll go back to our hotel room.”
“But Mom—”
“Quiet!”
“Jacob
peed in his pants
!”
Tiffany kept her focus straight ahead. Maybe she’d heard wrong. Maybe she’d misunderstood. Surely a nine-year-old hadn’t just wet himself in the middle of a high-end store.
She looked back as wincingly as if she were looking at a car wreck. And she was. The front of Jacob’s khaki pants was soaking wet, and there was a puddle on the white marble floor of the shop.
Tiffany had to swallow a curse. Several of them, actually.
Jacob shrugged.
Well, at least he wasn’t emotionally traumatized by it. Like Tiffany was about to be. “Jacob, what happened?”
“I
really really
had to go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
This started them all jabbering at once about how
you told us not to talk
and
no summer vacation ever again.
“I didn’t mean . . .” What could she say? More to the point, what could she
do
? There was only one option: to sneak out of the store with the kids and come back before they left for the airport in the morning when someone else could watch the children. “Okay, guys, quick—”
“How may I help you?”
Startled, Tiffany whipped around to see a small man with a pencil-thin mustache who looked like he was doing his best impression of William Powell, only in miniature.
And without the little sparkle of humor in his eye.
“Rayanne said you wished to see a manager.”
She glanced uncertainly back at Jacob, then scooted Kate in front of him to, hopefully, block the mess. “Yes, I just had a few returns to make, and Rayanne pointed out that you have a no-return policy.” She tried to give a trill of a laugh, like
I’m so rich and silly I didn’t even realize it!
“Now, the problem is, I’m going back home this morning, and I was really hoping to get this done right away.” She paused, and he continued to look at her in a detached manner. “If you look, you’ll see that everything still has the tags on and everything.” She lifted the would-be Kentucky Derby hat and pointed out the tag.
“That’s good,” he said.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Tiffany smiled. “I was afraid you were going to stick to your policy, which would be understandable, of course, but—”
“No, no, the hat is good. Exquisite. I’m sure it’s quite fetching on you.”
“Well . . . not so much. That’s why I’m returning it.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I cannot overturn the store policy.” He clasped his hands in front of him and shook his head. “Would that I could.”
“You’re the manager. I’m sure you can. In fact, I bought them only a few hours ago, so could you just look in the drawer for the receipt and void it out?”
“Well . . .”
“I would be so grateful.”
He took a long, deliberate breath. “Perhaps, I could—” He interrupted himself to make a noise like Scooby-Doo encountering a ghost, and clapped his hand to his mouth.
“Mr.—?” Tiffany realized he hadn’t introduced himself. “Are you okay?”
He pointed a shaking finger behind her. “Are they with you?”
She closed her eyes for a moment before turning to look behind her and make sure he was referring to the children and not, say, a
Rayanne didn’t move. “He won’t. People have tried before.”
Which led Tiffany to wonder for a moment if they actually removed that sign during a transaction, and put it back when the poor suckers came back to return things. Or maybe it was sort of the Brigadoon of signs, appearing once every so often, and Tiffany was just out of luck this time. “Would you please ask him to come over so I can talk to him?”
“Mom.” There was a tugging on the back of her shirt.
“Shhh!” She tossed over her shoulder.
A few moments passed, then another tug. “But
Mom
.”
“Kate, honestly, you
have
to just wait a minute, okay?” Tiffany rasped, hoping not to call attention to herself. “I need to talk to one more person, then we’ll go back to our hotel room.”
“But Mom—”
“Quiet!”
“Jacob
peed in his pants
!”
Tiffany kept her focus straight ahead. Maybe she’d heard wrong. Maybe she’d misunderstood. Surely a nine-year-old hadn’t just wet himself in the middle of a high-end store.
She looked back as wincingly as if she were looking at a car wreck. And she was. The front of Jacob’s khaki pants was soaking wet, and there was a puddle on the white marble floor of the shop.
Tiffany had to swallow a curse. Several of them, actually.
Jacob shrugged.
Well, at least he wasn’t emotionally traumatized by it. Like Tiffany was about to be. “Jacob, what happened?”
“I
really really
had to go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
This started them all jabbering at once about how
you told us not to talk
and
no summer vacation ever again.
“I didn’t mean . . .” What could she say? More to the point, what could she
do
? There was only one option: to sneak out of the store with the kids and come back before they left for the airport in the morning when someone else could watch the children. “Okay, guys, quick—”
“How may I help you?”
Startled, Tiffany whipped around to see a small man with a pencil-thin mustache who looked like he was doing his best impression of William Powell, only in miniature.
And without the little sparkle of humor in his eye.
“Rayanne said you wished to see a manager.”
She glanced uncertainly back at Jacob, then scooted Kate in front of him to, hopefully, block the mess. “Yes, I just had a few returns to make, and Rayanne pointed out that you have a no-return policy.” She tried to give a trill of a laugh, like
I’m so rich and silly I didn’t even realize it!
“Now, the problem is, I’m going back home this morning, and I was really hoping to get this done right away.” She paused, and he continued to look at her in a detached manner. “If you look, you’ll see that everything still has the tags on and everything.” She lifted the would-be Kentucky Derby hat and pointed out the tag.
“That’s good,” he said.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Tiffany smiled. “I was afraid you were going to stick to your policy, which would be understandable, of course, but—”
“No, no, the hat is good. Exquisite. I’m sure it’s quite fetching on you.”
“Well . . . not so much. That’s why I’m returning it.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I cannot overturn the store policy.” He clasped his hands in front of him and shook his head. “Would that I could.”
“You’re the manager. I’m sure you can. In fact, I bought them only a few hours ago, so could you just look in the drawer for the receipt and void it out?”
“Well . . .”
“I would be so grateful.”
He took a long, deliberate breath. “Perhaps, I could—” He interrupted himself to make a noise like Scooby-Doo encountering a ghost, and clapped his hand to his mouth.
“Mr.—?” Tiffany realized he hadn’t introduced himself. “Are you okay?”
He pointed a shaking finger behind her. “Are they with you?”
She closed her eyes for a moment before turning to look behind her and make sure he was referring to the children and not, say, a
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