I didn’t see Pepper the weekend after that. People flocking to my little store would wander around for a while, walking by the baby grand that dominated the center of the floor, as if she were just off somewhere taking a break. I knew better, I knew we wouldn’t see her today, but I didn’t mention it. Pepper was right. She had me figured out. I wanted her in my store because of the audience she drew.
I milled around, offering help with finding items here and there, but mostly explaining that, no I didn’t know why she wasn’t here today. And when the crowd thinned because word must have gotten around, I sat at the front counter, touching up my henna. The only joy I found in it was that I didn’t have to sort my bills at the same time. The cash was flowing, the ledger was moving into the black
