As the saleswoman turned, her expressionless face metamorphosed
into a struggled smile. "Yes?"
"Can I please have one of those?"
"Madam, I am certain you will receive one in the mail shortly,"
Ms. Olson said. She blinked delicately, twice.
"I want it now."
Mr. Armond jumped from his seat. "Of course." He slid one from
the pile. Quickly discarding the little protective jacket, he
handed the booklet to Greta, who immediately began flipping
through it.
"Thank you, dear," she said, without looking up.
Mr. Armond returned the addressed, empty coverlet to Ms. Olson's
pile and sent her off with a grateful wink. He collected the
cord-wrapped box containing her new bowl from a stock attendant,
and handed it to Greta. "Anything else today, Mrs. Locke?"
"I think this is all for today."
"Always a pleasure, Mrs. Locke."
She strolled out onto Post Street, the pleasantly heavy box
beneath one arm. Her car had been moved several yards up the
block and into a loading zone. She waved her scarf to the parking
attendant, but he was already on his way to the vehicle.
He held the car door for her, and she placed the box on the
passenger seat and secured it with the seat belt. Tying her
scarf, she realized she had forgotten the catalog. She had left
it on the clerk's desk. No fuss. She would receive one in the
mail soon anyway.
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