been eating her corn dogs, I’d ducked into the Hallmark store and bought a fancy gift bag and some colored
tinsel stuffing. Inspired by the cabby, I also bought a disposable camera. Took less than a minute. I sat at a Food Court
table away from everyone but still keeping Beth in sight. Under my table, I lowered my purse into the fancy gift bag, emptied
the money into the bag, removed my purse, and fluffed the orange tinsel over the top of the money.
I watched her eat her corn dogs, drink her lemonade, even conscientiously wipe the table afterward with a napkin. From what
I’d been able to guess about Beth from just observing her, she seemed like a pretty decent kid. On the video of the memorial
service, she’d held her mother’s arm the whole time, hugged her shoulder when her mother cried. Watching her wipe the table
with that tiny folded napkin, I felt that familiar tweak at my heart I got lately whenever I ran across a child who wasn’t
a monster. My first thought was always the same: Maybe Tim and I will get lucky and ours will turn out like that, not hating
us, but asking for advice and bringing friends over because we’re cool to be around. Then the tweak turned to a burn as I
remembered Tim was dead and we wouldn’t be having a child. Realistically, what were my chances of falling in love with someone
new, going through the lengthy commitment ritual, followed by the protracted should-we-procreate debate, and somehow ending
up with both a loving husband and a devoted child?
Beth was on the move again. I followed her as she browsed through a couple more stores, kind of proud of my shadowing abilities.
She’d been easy to find. One ofthe local newspaper articles had mentioned which school Beth attended, and after being dumped by her mother earlier, I’d had
the cab rush me straight to the high school and waited for her to get out. I’d been on her tail ever since.
But it was time to get this over with. If the mother wouldn’t take the money, maybe the daughter would. Once they had it,
there would be no one to give it back to.
She began checking her watch every few minutes and I knew she was getting ready to leave the mall. Apparently she’d just come
by here to kill some time before going home, where she’d be asked about her day in school, help prepare dinner, and have to
finish her homework before she could watch TV or call her friends. Finally, she headed for the exit. I started closing in.
As I got closer, I could see how pretty she was. Her long, shiny black hair hung to her elbows, and her face was clearly Asian.
She was half a foot taller than her mother and not at all chubby as I’d first thought, but broad and athletic.
I waited until she left the mall before approaching her.
She was walking briskly toward the bus stop.
“Ms. Grover?” I called out.
She stopped and turned toward me.
“Beth Grover?” I asked.
“Who are you?” She stared at me. Her mother had warned her about strangers.
“I’m Rita Hayes with Sears. It was brought to my attention that you just bought a compact disc from our store.”
She nodded. “I paid for it.”
“Of course you did, Beth. That’s why I’m here. Our cash registers have been programmed to monitor our sales. When you bought
that CD, the computer popped out your name as our one millionth customer!” I smiled broadly, injecting my voice with great
enthusiasm. I pulled my disposable camera from my pocket and snapped a couplephotos of her. “For the publicity department. Naturally we’ll be sending some real photographers over to your house for the
publicity campaign. A couple of reporters will contact you—”
“How come you guys waited till now to say something? I left Sears half an hour ago.”
“New sales clerk. She didn’t know what the computer meant when it flagged your sale. Another clerk spotted it, gave me your
name from the check, your description, and I thought I’d catch you before
tinsel stuffing. Inspired by the cabby, I also bought a disposable camera. Took less than a minute. I sat at a Food Court
table away from everyone but still keeping Beth in sight. Under my table, I lowered my purse into the fancy gift bag, emptied
the money into the bag, removed my purse, and fluffed the orange tinsel over the top of the money.
I watched her eat her corn dogs, drink her lemonade, even conscientiously wipe the table afterward with a napkin. From what
I’d been able to guess about Beth from just observing her, she seemed like a pretty decent kid. On the video of the memorial
service, she’d held her mother’s arm the whole time, hugged her shoulder when her mother cried. Watching her wipe the table
with that tiny folded napkin, I felt that familiar tweak at my heart I got lately whenever I ran across a child who wasn’t
a monster. My first thought was always the same: Maybe Tim and I will get lucky and ours will turn out like that, not hating
us, but asking for advice and bringing friends over because we’re cool to be around. Then the tweak turned to a burn as I
remembered Tim was dead and we wouldn’t be having a child. Realistically, what were my chances of falling in love with someone
new, going through the lengthy commitment ritual, followed by the protracted should-we-procreate debate, and somehow ending
up with both a loving husband and a devoted child?
Beth was on the move again. I followed her as she browsed through a couple more stores, kind of proud of my shadowing abilities.
She’d been easy to find. One ofthe local newspaper articles had mentioned which school Beth attended, and after being dumped by her mother earlier, I’d had
the cab rush me straight to the high school and waited for her to get out. I’d been on her tail ever since.
But it was time to get this over with. If the mother wouldn’t take the money, maybe the daughter would. Once they had it,
there would be no one to give it back to.
She began checking her watch every few minutes and I knew she was getting ready to leave the mall. Apparently she’d just come
by here to kill some time before going home, where she’d be asked about her day in school, help prepare dinner, and have to
finish her homework before she could watch TV or call her friends. Finally, she headed for the exit. I started closing in.
As I got closer, I could see how pretty she was. Her long, shiny black hair hung to her elbows, and her face was clearly Asian.
She was half a foot taller than her mother and not at all chubby as I’d first thought, but broad and athletic.
I waited until she left the mall before approaching her.
She was walking briskly toward the bus stop.
“Ms. Grover?” I called out.
She stopped and turned toward me.
“Beth Grover?” I asked.
“Who are you?” She stared at me. Her mother had warned her about strangers.
“I’m Rita Hayes with Sears. It was brought to my attention that you just bought a compact disc from our store.”
She nodded. “I paid for it.”
“Of course you did, Beth. That’s why I’m here. Our cash registers have been programmed to monitor our sales. When you bought
that CD, the computer popped out your name as our one millionth customer!” I smiled broadly, injecting my voice with great
enthusiasm. I pulled my disposable camera from my pocket and snapped a couplephotos of her. “For the publicity department. Naturally we’ll be sending some real photographers over to your house for the
publicity campaign. A couple of reporters will contact you—”
“How come you guys waited till now to say something? I left Sears half an hour ago.”
“New sales clerk. She didn’t know what the computer meant when it flagged your sale. Another clerk spotted it, gave me your
name from the check, your description, and I thought I’d catch you before
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