chef at the hotel, must have known it was for her. He slipped in a small triangle of French toast
generously dusted with powdered sugar beneath a dollop of homemade cream. A strawberry, carved
into a starburst, perched at its side.
She ate until her belly could hold no more, and then it was time to leave. “Will I see you tonight?”
Lucian asked as he made a production of kissing her good-bye.
“Jason’s coming at three, but tomorrow I have off.”
He growled and nibbled her lip, his fingers slipping beneath the waist of her wool pants. “I feel
myself coming down with something. Perhaps I better tell Seth to reschedule my appointments.”
“You do feel warm. Hot even.”
His mouth trailed down her throat as he cupped her ass. The flesh of her nipples tightened and she
moaned softly, wishing she could stay. His lips found hers. It was a kiss filled with dark promises. She groaned as her sex twitched, asking for more. “I can’t be late. I don’t feel like getting called into the office for a lecture.”
He drew back. “Did you have to go to the office yesterday?”
“No, but I wasn’t late.”
“Don’t let that manager of yours take advantage. I want to know if he treats you any differently than
the other employees.”
She rolled her eyes. Even little old Clemons was not out of the Patras jurisdiction, apparently. He
smacked her ass.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m serious.”
“Okay,” she said with little conviction.
His phone rang and he glanced at the screen before answering. “She’s on her way down now.” He
hung up and kissed her one last time. “Your chariot awaits.”
***
Evelyn pushed aside her worksheet when customers began loading groceries on her belt. “Hi, how
are you today?”
The older woman strategically grouped her refrigerated items and boxed non-perishables and
mumbled some form of reply. The rhythmic beep, beep, beep of the scanner filled the silence as items
tallied on her register. She efficiently bagged the objects and when the order was complete, Evelyn
instructed the woman to slide her card. Not everyone was having a bright and cheery day here at
Clemons Market.
The next few customers were a little more pleasant. In between orders, Evelyn returned to her
studies. Today she was working on combination vowels like in the words boat, coat, and oat. It wasn’t rocket science, but she was immensely proud of herself.
Jason was a patient teacher. Being the only qualified instructor she ever sat down with, she noticed
an impressive difference in how her mind was beginning to process the squiggly lines, putting sounds
to letters, and grouping sounds to form words. He encouraged her when quitting was tempting and he
never let her get overly frustrated.
Much of the process of learning to read was frustrating. Directions were difficult. Luckily, Nick
knew her secret and he was always a register away if she had any questions.
Mr. Gearhart had been MIA for the last few days. That made sneaking in her studies between
customers a bit easier. Anyone who saw what she was working on would clearly know she wasn’t as
educated as she should be. She’d gotten in the habit of putting her dictionary over the juvenile
illustrations of tugboats, puppies, and sand pails. By next week she’d be on the second grade
workbook and she hoped the pictures would be a bit less infantile. Getting rid of the baby format was
just another motivator in her long journey.
A young woman stepped into her aisle and began unloading items. Evelyn pushed her paper aside
and scanned the tub of coffee. “Hi, how are you today?”
The girl had auburn hair and an easy smile. She looked about twenty-five. “I’m good. How are
you?”
“Good, thanks. Do you have any coupons?”
“No.”
Evelyn continued to scan and bag the order while the woman waited. The customer glanced at the
register area as she played with her cell phone. “Do you have a child?” she asked, motioning to the
phonics sheet.
Heat tickled the back of Evelyn’s neck. Hiding her discomfort, she turned and bagged three boxes of
cereal. “Um . . .” Should she lie? It was only a customer. “Yes.”
“How old?”
How old was a first grader? “Six.”
“Boy or girl?”
What was this woman writing a book? “Girl.”
“That’s nice. What’s her name?”
Sometimes Evelyn preferred the grumpy, quiet customers. “Pearl,” she said the first name that
popped in her head.
The girl’s manicured brow rose as if Pearl was an inappropriate name for a little girl. Evelyn lifted
the filled bags onto the metal apron of the checkout. The girl pushed her cart forward and loaded the
sacks of food. She returned to the card device and continued to play on her phone as she processed the
rest of the order.
There was a quiet snick and crunch sound that caught Evelyn’s attention. She didn’t recognize the
sound. When she heard it again she turned and blinked at the tiny white flash of light. Snick-crunch, snick-crunch, snick-crunch.
The girl appeared to be dialing something, maybe playing a game or texting—Evelyn stilled. “Are