Coming Home(8)

She began her usual routine of circling the block, looking for an open parking space, and on her second pass, amazingly, she noticed a spot had opened up right in front of the door. She cut the wheel sharply, pulling into the spot without using her blinker and glancing around to make sure she hadn’t just snagged the spot from someone who had been waiting.

No one.

“Wow,” Leah said to herself, cutting the engine and grabbing her purse. In all the years she’d been shopping there, she’d never even gotten a spot on the same block, let alone right out front. “Must be my lucky day.”

She stood in line for almost half an hour, tossing items into her handheld basket as she inched up the aisle toward the counter. When she finally reached it, she placed her order, remembering to include the fresh ravioli her brother loved so much he would often eat them raw before she could cook them.

As the girl behind the counter totaled up her order, Leah reached inside her purse to grab her wallet.

And that’s when she noticed it.

Her stomach lurched as she shook her wrist. “No,” she whispered in a panic, pushing up her sleeve with her other hand. “Shit!” she said, rummaging frantically through her purse, hoping it had just slipped off and fallen inside.

“Is something wrong?” the girl behind the counter asked.

“I lost something,” Leah said, stepping up to the counter and abruptly dumping the contents of her purse over the top of it. The girl jumped back, a startled expression on her face as Leah sifted through the change, makeup, and receipts scattered across the counter.

She whipped around in a frenzy, her eyes scanning the floor behind her. “Did anyone see a bracelet?” she asked, nudging her way through the line of people behind her. There were a few mumbled no’s and sorry’s as she scoured the floor near the shelves, looking for any sign of it.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but there’s a line,” the girl at the counter called.

She continued pushing through the crowd until she had a clear view of the door where she came in. She needed to retrace her steps.

“Miss,” the girl called again.

“Yeah, okay,” Leah said, her voice detached as she walked backward toward the counter, bumping into people as her eyes continued to comb the floor. By the time she made it back to the front of the line, it was clear that any sympathy from the crowd had now transitioned into annoyance.

She swiped everything on the counter back into her purse and absently paid for her things, turning every few seconds to inspect the floor behind her again.

The woman handed her the box of food, and Leah balanced it precariously in her arms as she rushed out of the deli. It was freezing, but she could already feel a cold sweat breaking out over her back.

She hurried to her car and threw the box inside before turning to examine the sidewalk. The distance between her car and the door to the deli couldn’t have been more than five feet, but she already knew that if she had dropped it outside, it would most likely be gone. Someone would have picked it up and taken it, no doubt. Still, she continued her futile search of the sidewalk for another ten minutes.

By the time she got back in her car, she felt like she might actually be sick. Leah arched her back, struggling to remove her jacket in the confines of the driver’s seat before shaking it out frantically.

“Please,” she said to herself, hoping it would fall out from one of the sleeves.

It didn’t.

She contorted her body, checking under the seats, in between the seats, under the pedals, next to the console.

Nothing.

“Shit,” she said again, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and letting her head fall back against the seat.