“Alexis, dear,” Eleanor said, her chin tilting upward as she adjusted her sunglasses. “You look so sensible in those flat shoes.”
“Thank you, Eleanor,” I said, keeping my voice polite. “Did you need me to pick up something specific for Saturday?”
She reached into her purse and produced a folded slip of white paper, handing it through the window with a sweet, sharp smile.
“I need fifty-eight dollars’ worth of very specific items,” Eleanor said, her voice crisp and perfectly modulated. “The good buns from the bakery, three bags of charcoal, and a fresh bag of ice.”
I glanced down at the hand-written list, noting the precise brands she had underlined.
“We are really doing a lawn barbecue?” I asked.
“Of course,” Eleanor said, her expression shifting into one of exaggerated warmth. “It is going to be a very messy outdoor gathering, Alexis. Lots of grease and dirt. We must dress down.”
“Mia is looking forward to it,” I said. “She is making you a gift.”
