Remarkably Bright Creatures(84)

“There’s your problem,” says Janice softly. “Assuming it’s a burden.”

“Charter Village might not be the only way, but it’s the best way.” Tova sets her jaw. “And besides, it’s done. I’m going to sign the papers for the sale of the house on Wednesday.”

“And when do you move into Charter Village?”

“Next week, but I’ll stay in one of those hotels down in Everett.”

With a defeated smile, Janice says, “I suppose Barb and I will have to come visit once you move in, then. Maybe you can book us appointments at the fancy spa.”

“Of course,” Tova says.

A chipper waitress arrives moments later and, with a cheery grin, spits out a list of specialty margarita flavors. Janice requests a diet soda. Tova orders black coffee. The waitress nods and trots away but returns a moment later to apologize and explain that they don’t have any coffee prepared at the moment. Not much demand for it in the afternoon. Would Tova like to wait fifteen minutes for it to brew? Or might she be interested in something from the espresso bar? Cappuccino, latte, mocha?

“A small latte, I suppose,” Tova says a bit reluctantly. Espresso bar. How very indulgent.

ON TUESDAY AFTERNOON, Tova readies herself for a trip to Shop-Way, her first since that disastrous dinner at Ethan’s house.

And her last, perhaps. She just needs to pick up a few essentials. The fridge is still half-full, and her moving date inches closer. Never would she have thought she could go so long between grocery runs, but those freezer casseroles have had legs. All of the potatoes and noodles and gravy and cheese have added a certain plumpness to Tova’s cheeks, which she found herself admiring in her bathroom mirror this morning after she bathed. After she dressed, she even dabbed a bit of blush on her cheekbones.

Four times before she leaves, she checks to make sure the Grateful Dead T-shirt is in her tote bag. This isn’t simply a shopping trip, after all. On her way out the front door, she’s somewhat startled to see the newspaper still sitting there on her front mat, coiled and waiting. She was so occupied this morning that it never occurred to her to take it in. Her subscription was supposed to be canceled, but when she pointed it out to the young man on the route the other day, he just shrugged and said he might as well bring her one as long as she was still there; he always has a bunch left over anyway. Tova had smiled and thanked him. He’s a nice kid, and she gave him a good tip last Christmas.

In any case, her crossword needs are now being met through other channels. Last week, Janice challenged her to a competitive crossword game through a message that popped up on her cell phone, and with one tap of a button, there were crosswords galore right there on the little screen.

So many crosswords. As many as anyone could ever want. Isn’t that something?

Of course, Tova has won every match so far, but Janice is improving quickly.

At the Shop-Way, Ethan is manning the deli when Tova enters the store. With a pen tucked behind his ear, he halts the conversation he’s having with a customer midsentence and waves.

“Hello, Ethan,” she calls, her voice even. She lifts a shopping basket from the stack at the store’s front.

“Afternoon, love,” he says, giving her a resigned look before going back to taking the order of the group crowded into the booth.

Tova shops thoughtfully, giving each item she adds to her cart an extra layer of scrutiny. Jams and jellies are on promotion: buy one, get one free. But Tova doesn’t need two jellies. She might not even need one. Of course, she won’t be needing her own jam at Charter Village, although her suite will have a small kitchenette with a refrigerator. She selects a small jar of raspberry preserves, which could be brought along if she doesn’t use it up this week.

Two checkout lanes are running when she finishes, and she’s relieved to see that Ethan has finished with the group in the deli and is now tending the one on the left. It’s no contest to choose that one, even though the line is longer. She arranges her modest collection of groceries on the belt, then carefully tucks the T-shirt, which she’s rolled neatly, at the end, nestling it between her quart of milk and a waxy orange grapefruit.

“Congratulations on the sale of your house.” Ethan clears his throat, as if trying to cough away the awkwardness. He rings through the bread, jam, coffee, eggs. Not looking up, he scans her packet of wafer crackers, weighs her single green apple. Finally, he picks up the white shirt, and he turns it over twice in his left hand while aiming the scanner with his right, looking for a UPC code, before recognition dawns on his face. His mouth falls open as he allows the shirt to unroll.

“Where on earth did you . . . ?” His voice sounds like it’s caught in a net. “I mean, how did you find . . . ?”

Tova straightens. “I bought it on the internet.”

“You what?”

“It was one of those online auctions. Janice Kim helped me,” she admits.

Suddenly stern, he asks, “How much did you spend on this, Tova?”

“Well, I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

He rolls the shirt back up and gives it a perturbed shake. “These are expensive. Thousands of dollars.”

There are three customers waiting in line behind Tova now. Two of them crane their necks, straining to soak up the drama.

“There’s no need to get upset,” she hisses. “I’m simply replacing the item I ruined.”