Bargain Basement
Page 4
for her; she picked up her glass.
“What you’d think of me if you knew. I had a good husband, my Ted, Theodore. And I killed him. That’s why I’m alone. That’s why I don’t go to the mall.”
Sam leaned forward. Shirley was wiping tears and sweat from her face. He liked a joke, but her acting abilities, after four glasses, astonished him. “Too much wine, Shirley. You’re funny, but maybe it’s time for some coffee.” He grinned to one side. “Come on lady, you never killed anyone. Drove them crazy maybe, but that’s all.”
“No, Sam, I killed him. For a bottle of wine. Just like tonight.” She scraped crumbs with her knife, gathering them into a mound next to her empty glass. “Almost to the day, a year after Momma died, and he was so kind to me, to both of us, all those years she was sick. Our anniversary, and we liked our wine. So he said he’d drive down to County for a couple of bottles. But no, I made him drive to the mall while I made dinner. I remember it was only chicken and spaghetti, just what he liked. They were having a sale at the mall, you know, half price, and he never came home. Killed in the parking lot, hit and run. He always did whatever I wanted.” She flattened the mound of crumbs with the wine glass.
Sam ordered two coffees and the check. She stared at her cup. “The coffee will help, Shirley, guaranteed. Come on.” He pushed the cup toward her. She leaned forward to circle it with two hands. “We had a deal, Mrs. Ryder. No one ever called me a deadbeat.” Sam placed a small yellow box, tied with a gold bow, beside her cup. “I’m not asking for charity. Go ahead and open it.”
“There’s really no need for this,” she said. “No need for any of this. Let’s say we’re even, and take back the brooch.”
“Open it. A bargain’s a bargain.”
She untied the bow and removed the cardboard cover. A cameo brooch rested on a pillow of white cotton. Her fingers traced the outline of the tiny forehead, the fragile nose and chin; she saw a replica of her Lady. “You have some lovely things. But I don’t think I can take this. It wasn’t part of our deal.”
“You have time to worry later. How about walking around the mall for a while?”
“No, no, I can’t. I’m too tired.”
“Maybe another time. Come on, Shirley, I’ll take you home.”
Mr. Curtis helped Shirley stand with the rest of the congregation for the final hymn. Her knees, so stiff and sore that she feared they would crack, had spoiled her concentration all morning. She listened to the singing, amused by Mr. Curtis’s enthusiastic attempts at high notes, and wondered if a second hot shower would bring any relief. He closed his hymnal at the “Amen” and leaned toward her.
“Not such bad news this morning,” he said. “Looks like the fund-raising was a flop. Never enough coffee and cupcakes. But the rumor is that the anonymous donor is none other than Mr. Mall himself. He gets a political bonus, and we get a new basement.”
“When will that be? I haven’t been paying much attention this morning, my joints ache so bad.”
“They’re predicting six months to a year. Work is supposed to start next month.”
“I’ll never see any new basement. I won’t live that long.”
“You know better than to talk like that. Especially lately. I heard about your romance at the mall last week. Mrs. Simonson came in with a pair of sandals and told me someone saw you with a fine gentleman.”
Shirley touched her left shoulder. Her sweater hid the cameo, pinned to her blouse. “We had a good dinner, but I’m too old for that sort of thing.”
“You know better than to talk like that, too.”
“Do I? I suppose. Then I’ll see you here next Sunday. I enjoy listening to your singing.”
“Maybe it’s my singing that keeps people away.”
“Now you know better. Your singing is a gift.”
“Thanks. And it’s free,” he smiled, “I’ll see you next week.” He patted her gently on the arm and left the pew.
Shirley waited for the last few worshippers to leave. “Stragglers, Momma. Struggling stragglers, all of us.” She crossed the aisle, lit two candles, unzipped her purse, and peeked at her wallet. “I’m going down now, Momma and Ted.”
She stood and clasped her hands on the edge of the shelf. Kneeling was impossible. “Two weeks. Sorry I had to miss you but I’m getting too old for all sorts of things. I was scared when I didn’t see you. Then I knew you wouldn’t leave. And when I leave, I leave it all to you because you wouldn’t leave me. Did you hear that one, Momma? I wouldn’t know where else to go. No bargains upstairs, at least not for me. Even with Momma, she said you’d listen, she said that prayers of the poor are heard first. Tell me my Lady, is that true? I ask if you don’t listen to them upstairs more than to me. They don’t have to watch every penny. I’m no charity case, but at least down here I know my prayers count. At least down here I know you pay some attention. That night you were missing I thought, I won’t find you again and my time is going.” She walked to the statue, opened her wallet and dropped two folded bills through the slot. “There you are, my Lady. That’s two, for two Sundays, or make it last week’s candles for Momma and Ted, plus today’s.”
Shirley turned toward the stairs and held the banister. With one foot on the first step, she changed her mind and walked back, removed her sweater, touched the cameo, then touched the wooden hem. “You made him give me this, didn’t you? I think it looks a lot like you. It really does. Then tell me, my Lady, is Sam my something extra?” She returned to the stairs and lifted her left foot to the first step. “Twenty-two to a hot shower and you, Momma. I’ll be home before you know it.”
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