so nice. He asks about my daughter’s daughter all the time after he once seen them here. And in February, that big snow, he shoveled the front for me. He helps me, like you do.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. He asks about me but keeps so silent about him. But he, he bought a ticket that day. For some reason, I think…everyone else would come tell me if they win but he’s so quiet, maybe he’s keeping quiet on that, too.”
Acey thought a moment. “Has he been in here since the numbers were picked?”
“Yes, but he acts the same. Nothing different but I have a feeling about him.”
“Huh.”
“Maybe,” Rosalia said, “you can look at him, tell me if you have the feeling, too? He comes every day, at almost exactly five minutes after one, for lemonade.”
“Interesting. Okay,” Acey decided. “I’ll be here tomorrow at five after one. Just point him out to me.”
“You won’t miss him,” Rosalia said. “I think no girl would miss him.”
“You won’t even notice I’m gone. Twenty minutes, Lydia, please?”
Acey glanced nervously at the clock. As usual, the time had flown by and it was now five of one.
“Oh, crap, Acey, it’s crazy in here,” Lydia complained, slicing a pie and boxing it.
“I know, but I have a…a…” Acey struggled. “A doctor’s appointment.”
“Twenty minutes for a doctor’s appointment?”
Acey hated to lie, so she hardly ever did. Which was why she was so awful at it. “They’re squeezing me in.”
Lydia paused and studied her. Acey squirmed with guilt. Why was she doing this anyhow? Wasn’t Lydia right yesterday? Why should you care who won the lottery if it wasn’t you? But Acey did. For something so wonderful to happen right up the street…it was like a miracle almost, and Acey was a pilgrim. She just wanted the tiniest glimpse at the lucky person. And she desperately wanted it to be someone nice, because people who had piles of money, like Charlie, so often didn’t deserve it.
“You never skip out like this,” Lydia said. “Is it serious?”
“Um, not really, but like I said, he’s fitting me in, so…”
“Are you pregnant?”
Acey handed a customer some change. “Thank you,” she said to him. “I’m not even answering that,” she said to Lydia.
“Just checking. I mean, I didn’t think you’ve been getting any action since Charlie, but…”
“Can you please cover for me?” Acey asked through gritted teeth.
“Well, it’s not going to be easy. Okay. I’ll do it on one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“That you tell me the truth. This is no doctor visit. This is about a guy, right?”
The minute hand edged toward one o’clock.
“Yeah,” Acey said. “It’s about a guy.”
“Then go, girl.” Lydia grinned. “Twenty minutes.”
Acey pulled off her apron. “Can I borrow your sunglasses?”
Lydia pulled them off her head and handed them to Acey, who grabbed them and sprinted out the door.
Acey peeked over a box of Cap’n Crunch and watched the door. She held a shopping basket, but just for show. Lydia’s sunglasses were enormous for her face, but they made Acey feel covert. She was on the case. Like Nancy Drew. Nancy Drew with big hair and acrylic nails.
She checked her watch. Four minutes after one.
“It’s almost time,” she heard in her ear, and jumped about three feet. She turned to find Cassandra, wrapped in her nubby black cardigan, rocking back and forth. “The end. It’s upon us.”
“Oh, okay,” Acey said weakly. Cassandra had been a regular for at least a dozen years. Acey didn’t know her real name. Steph had nicknamed her Cassandra a long time ago because of her constant doomsday prophesies.
Acey humored Cassandra each time she saw her, which was more and more seldom as the woman aged. The end was probably near for her, and it made Acey a little sad. Not for the first time, she wanted to offer Cassandra something, like coffee, but she never knew how to ask so that it sounded more friendly than pitying. The old woman shook her head and shuffled away. Acey sighed, turned back to the cereal and saw that someone had come in. Rosalia was already deep in conversation with him.
Cowboy boots. Really scuffed up, too. As if he’d just left Silver hitched to a mailbox outside.
Acey got a funny little prickly feeling.
Her gaze traveled up long legs. Long legs. That ended in a…wow, nice ass. Much smaller than her own, which usually daunted her but for some reason, she had the urge to slip behind him and see if she could fit that butt in both her cupped hands. Then she could slide one of those hands over his hip and check the size of…
“Oh, my God, Acey,” she said out loud. The man looked over his shoulder and Acey dropped to a crouch. She shifted a few boxes of elbow macaroni around so she appeared to be a legitimate shopper. She rose to her feet and peeked at the counter, where Rosalia and the man were chatting again, but now he was leaning one arm on the counter as Rosalia flipped through photos.
It was no shock when Acey saw his face. Harry Wells.
Rosalia glanced up, saw Acey and raised her eyebrows. Acey suspected the thick stack of photos was deliberate on Rosalia’s part, to keep their target there long enough for Acey’s assessment.
Her assessment? Same as the first time she met him. An Ebert and Roeper two-thumbs-way-up.
Being careful to stare at the shelves of sundries, Acey moved up an aisle closer to the front. Yes. Much better. Now she could hear them.
“She’s beautiful,” Harry was saying.
“She looks just like my daughter,” Rosalia said with pride.
“Actually, I see so much of you,” Harry answered. “Definitely that smile.”
“The end.”
Acey realized Cassandra had sneaked up behind the man and repeated her usual proclamation. Harry didn’t even seem surprised when he turned around and Cassandra said, “Are you ready? For the end? It’s here.”
“If the end is truly here, then at least they sent the most beautiful angel to tell me,” he told the soothsayer. Cassandra studied him, nodded, and left the store.
Acey’s jaw hung.
“Thank you for showing me your pictures,” Harry said to Rosalia.
