That's not salad, part 3

If you’re just joining us, jump back to part 1.

Sal poked the flickering light bulb with her multitool. The flicker intensified, as if it were being spiteful.

“Stop futzing,” Em said from the foot of the ladder. “We’re open.”

Sal scowled at the light fixture, but descended. Even though Em had just unlocked the doors, a handful of people already browsed the shelves. In the few months since opening, traffic to the shop had continued to increase, so much that she and Em tended to spend what little evening they had in front of the TV, unless they collapsed into bed right away.

“It’s not futzing,” Sal whispered. “I think it intends to drive me crazy.” She pointed at the light with her multitool.

“Put that away.”

Em graced her with that look, the one that said she was being ridiculous but Em loved her for it. “The light has no will.”

“How do you know?” Sal said, but smiled as she noticed the new lines around Em’s eyes. The strain of being something she wasn’t all day was clearly getting to her too, even if she didn’t complain.

She winced as the door slammed shut. Yet another item on the list of things to do. More and more surfaced each week.

“We need our environment to be as soothing as possible.” She squeezed Em’s shoulder.

“I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but right now, I need a hand at the cash register.”

Sal nodded as she tucked the multitool into her pocket. “I’ll just put this away.” She folded the ladder and wove through the customers to get to the storeroom.

The day passed in a blur, with the door propped open to keep it from banging. Luckily, the weather had started to warm up.

Sal barely noticed the light’s flicker with daylight streaming through the front windows.

Then the sun began to set. Bugs drawn inside by the lights forced them to close the door, and the twilight highlighted the flicker again.

But still the store remained too busy to even grab a bite to eat. She exhaled in relief, realizing that they were closing soon. The strain of a day without a break clearly showed in the tension around Em’s eyes and mouth. Sal felt it in the muscles of her neck.

Beside her, Em exhaled after the customer she’d been ringing in left. “I think we might need help.”

Just then, a shadow appeared from between two shelves. Sal’s tired eyes peered at the dark clothes and the black hair and the wide blue eyes, and her sluggish brain slowly told her she recognized the person, though their hair was longer than when she’d last seen them. And the smile was new.

“Brian, isn’t it?” Em said, her tone warm.

“I go by Tansy now.” Tansy’s lips did a scrunchy thing Sal was still learning to read.

“Oh, what a lovely name.”

Sal leaned close. “That’s the flower that makes your skin itch and your nose run.”

Em blinked at her. “Is it?” She shook her head and turned her attention back to Tansy. “Still a lovely name. Can I help you?”

“I….” A piece of paper fluttered in Tansy’s hand. “You said you might need help.” Tansy shoved the paper at them.

“Tansy Emerson, she/her.” Sal read the page, where Tansy’s name sat above an address, followed by a few dates and bulleted lists. “What’s this?” she asked.

The smile on Tansy’s face fell a fraction, and her shoulders slumped, then she rolled them back. “My resume. Working at a bookstore is a dream job.”

“Oh? Oh!” Em said, grabbing the paper away from Sal. “You want to work for us?” She shifted her gaze from the paper to Tansy. “And this tells us where you’ve worked before.”

“Um, yeah.” Tansy glanced between the two of them, her eyebrows pulling together. “I can give you references too.”

“When can you start?” Em asked, clutching the paper to her chest, ignoring the people waiting to pay.

“Any time.”

“Can you start tomorrow? Or maybe the next—”

“Tomorrow!” Tansy’s face lit up, and her blue eyes sparkled. “I’ll be here first thing.”

Sal gently extracted the paper from Em’s hand. “We should discuss pay and hours.”

“Tomorrow,” Em and Tansy said in unison.

Share

Later that night, after the last customer left, Sal checked the door lock again. She peered out at the dark street, then took another tour of the shop to make sure everything was as it should be. It seemed to be, but something in the back of her brain itched. And it wasn’t just the prospect of bringing someone else into their daily lives.

Em would call her crazy, but it made Sal a tad nervous when everything seemed fine. An echo of her past life.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she went to the small office / storeroom, where she reconciled the till. Em was better at bookkeeping, but she was currently cooking dinner. Sal listened to her humming emanating from the kitchen through the now-open door marked Private.

After she double-checked her calculations, she locked the cash away. She briefly considered changing into something more comfortable, but instead joined Em.

Stopping by the door, she drummed her fingers on the counter.

Em paused in her supper preparations. “What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t hire Tansy.”

“Of course, we should. We need the help.”

“We’re managing.”

Em gave her that look, then returned to focus on her cooking.

“We are. Mostly.”

“Barely. Besides, wouldn’t it be great to be able to take a break during the day? It’s exhausting being ‘on’ all day.” She pointed at Sal with her oven mitt. “Speaking of, you’re still dressed in your day garb.”

Sal blinked, looking down at herself. “I was too tired to change.”

Em gave her the look again but let it be.

Sal leaned closer and inhaled. “That smells delicious.”

“I know. It’s called curry.” Em stirred the pot.

“But there seems to be a lot of things called curry.”

“Is it okay to eat?”

“Of course it is. It’s delicious.” Em pointed at a second pot. “Scoop some of that rice into those bowls.”

They ate largely in silence, too tired to have a conversation.

After Sal washed the last pot and placed it in the rack, she carefully folded the towel and draped it over the oven handle. She turned to Em. “So about Tansy.”

Em leaned against her. “Let’s talk about that tomorrow. I’m tired. I’m going to bed, and I’d like you to join me.”

Sal glared at the light. It was flickering again, strafing all her nerve endings. Em forbade her from using her multitool with Tansy about.

Yes, they’d hired Tansy. Sal had lost that battle, not that it was much of a fight. She knew to give in when Em got that look. And she had to admit it was niche having the help, and Tansy wasn’t only helpful but pleasant company.

Even with Tansy, they’d barely had a break today. It was like a replicator malfunction from that show, but in their case the number of customers grew to meet the number of staff.

“I can change that.” Tansy stopped beside her, broom in hand, and joined her in staring up at the offending light. “Do you have any spare bulbs?”

“Bulbs?” Sal’s head tilted sideways. “No?”

“They always do that when they’re dying.”

“Dying?”

“Yeah, you know, end of life. Either that, or they explode.” Tansy started sweeping the floor again. “I can stop at Midtown Tire on my way home, grab some bulbs.”

Sal frowned. “But I don’t need tires. I need one of these … living bulbs.” She pointed at the light.

“Oh, they sell a lot more than tires.” Tansy paused. “In fact, the one near here doesn’t have tires at all. It’s all tools and hardware and a lot of housewares. Anyway, happy to pick up some bulbs. I might not have real money, but I have some Midtown Tire bucks.”

At that moment, the door slammed as the last customer left.

Sal flinched, then focused on Tansy. “Can I come with you? I have a few more things to fix around here.”

Tansy nodded, and her smile reached her eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

Sal studied the display of tools, no closer to figuring out which one she needed to fix the door. How could there be so many? Some looked exactly the same, just with different words printed on the package.

“You could just get….” Tansy fumbled the hodgepodge of stuff clutched in her arms as she tried to point at something. She recovered, slapping her hand on the boxes of light bulbs perched between a pair of plants that sat on a set of baking sheets. All of this teetered on a couple of pillows.

A rumble emanated from Tansy’s stomach.

“Are you okay?” Sal swung her head around, half expecting some creature to burst from Tansy’s abdomen.

Instead, something else snagged her attention away, causing her head to jerk back and an itch to creep in the space between her eyes. She frowned and scanned the store, trying to figure out what niggled at her.

“Are you okay?” Tansy asked, returning her question.

“Oh, oh yes,” she said, distracted. She’d finally honed in on the source of irritation. A face she didn’t recognize but knew nonetheless. A bleak terror froze her veins. She shook her head. “Of course, also just hungry. And tired. It’s nice to have help at the store.”

Tansy returned her smile and shrugged. “It’s nice to be helpful.”

A shadow crept around the edge of her attention. “But we should go now.” Sal grabbed a tool from the display, not caring if it was what she needed.

At the register, Tansy pulled out a wad of colourful bills.

“Keep it.” Sal pushed her hand away. “You should use that to buy yourself some food.”

Tansy’s smile wavered. “They don’t sell food here. Except junk food.” She grabbed a chocolate bar and placed it on the pile.

An ache poked her sternum for a reason she couldn’t pinpoint. Not knowing what to do, she pointed towards the entrance into the mall, whence wafted an unguent, spicy aroma almost like Em’s curry. “But at the food square?”

Tansy’s head tipped sideways, and her eyes squinted. “This isn’t real money. It’s only good at Midtown Tire.”

“Oh, of course.” Sal laughed, as if it were just a momentary lapse. “Well then….” She pulled a bill out of her wallet and handed it to Tansy. “I’ll swap you this for those, and you can grab some dinner.”

Tansy tentatively took the red bill. “That’s too much.”

“Consider it a welcome to Quirks & Quarks.”

“I….” Tansy paused. “Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Tansy nodded, her smile back. “Bright and early.”

Sal watched Tansy walk towards the food stalls while she haphazardly loaded her purchases into her cloth bag and paid.

“Don’t forget your Midtown Tire bucks,” the youngling behind the till said when she started to walk away.

Sal blinked at the brightly coloured slips handed to her and studied the smiling, mustachioed man who peered at her from the paper. “Oh, yes. Thank you.”

She looked back at the food court, and her heart fluttered. Tansy had disappeared, but she spotted the other face, the one that made her brain itch. He was wearing a different guise, but her nose told her it was him.

The bounty hunter had found them.

Stay tuned for part 4.