“It always did.”
Behind him, the woman in the navy coat smiled.
Arthur pushed his cart away.
Then Brent’s voice carried faintly from the office doorway.
“Hope the two dollars was worth it.”
Dana turned sharply.
“Brent.”
Arthur stopped.
For a moment, he considered answering.
The woman in the navy coat did instead.
“Don’t put this on him.”
Her voice crossed the front-end area clearly.
“He asked for what he was owed.”
“You did the rest yourself.”
Brent disappeared into the office.
Arthur looked toward the woman.
“Thank you.”
She shrugged.
“You didn’t need defending.”
“Maybe not.”
“I appreciated company.”
She smiled.
“My name is Lena.”
“Arthur.”
“I heard.”
He glanced toward her basket.
“Sorry your frozen peas are probably soup now.”
Lena laughed.
“I’ll survive.”
Arthur started pushing the cart.
Dana called after him.
“Mr. Beckett?”
He turned.
“I’m going to document what happened.”
“I’d like our store manager to speak with you if you’re willing.”
Arthur considered.
“I don’t want anyone calling me tonight.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t want coupons mailed to me.”
Dana almost smiled.
“Understood.”
“And I don’t want free groceries.”
Dana blinked.
“All right.”
Arthur lifted the receipt.
“Just make sure the next person doesn’t have to fight for the same respect.”
Then he left.
Outside, the October air was cool.
Arthur loaded groceries into the trunk of his twelve-year-old Buick.
He placed the eggs carefully beside the bread.
Coffee behind them.
Detergent against the side.
He had performed that routine thousands of times.
Something about his hands felt different.
He was angry.
More than angry.
Embarrassed that he was angry.
That irritated him too.
He closed the trunk.
Lena emerged from the store pushing her own cart.
“Mr. Beckett.”
Arthur looked over.
“Arthur.”
“Arthur.”
She stopped beside his car.
“You okay?”
He almost gave the automatic answer.
Fine.
Then decided he was too old to waste perfectly good honesty.
“No.”
Lena nodded.
“That was ugly.”
Arthur leaned against the car.
“I kept wondering if I was making too much of it.”
“You weren’t.”
“Two dollars.”
“Wasn’t about two dollars.”
He looked at her.
Lena smiled slightly.
“You know that.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose I do.”
Arthur looked toward the supermarket entrance.
“Still feels ridiculous.”
“My father used coupons.”
Lena said.
“Every Sunday.”
“He had a coffee can full of them.”
Arthur smiled.
“My wife had red scissors.”
Lena laughed.
“Red scissors?”
“Specifically for coupons.”
“She’d have been furious with that boy.”
“Your wife?”
“Evelyn.”
Arthur looked toward the trunk.
“She would have corrected his grammar first.”
“Then destroyed him.”
Lena smiled.
“I like her already.”
Arthur looked at Lena.
“What do you do?”
“Middle-school counselor.”
He nodded slowly.
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“You’re professionally trained to interfere.”
Lena laughed.
“Exactly.”
She pushed her cart toward her car.
Then turned.
“For what it’s worth, my basket was about fifty dollars.”