Perry whirled around, glaring. “You old biddy.” He took a step toward her to close the gap between them, raising his fist. Zyah jumped onto the counter, trying to get across it so she could put herself between the man and the older woman.
“You touch that woman and you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor.” The voice was ice-cold. Menacing. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind the speaker meant what he said.
Zyah, sitting on the counter, looked up to see that Keys had come from the back room. He was staring at Perry Randall, ignoring the older women. “You put one hand on her and I’ll take you apart.”
“You touch me and you’ll go to jail,” Perry threatened, but he didn’t make another move toward Mrs. Darden.
“There are good reasons to go to jail. I’ve got no problem going if I smash your teeth down your throat because you touched her. Get the fuck out of this store and stay out.”
“You can’t tell me to get out.”
“Zyah?” Keys said, without looking at her.
“Perry, get out before I call the police,” Zyah said, sliding back to the other side of the counter. “Don’t come back. You don’t get to threaten my customers.”
Randall scowled at Mrs. Darden and then Zyah before stalking out. Applause broke out, which Keys ignored as he went back down the aisle to disappear into the back.
“Are you all right?” Zyah asked Marie Darden as she began ringing up the next customer in line.
“Yes, of course. That young man became that way because his parents taught him that he was entitled. He never had to take responsibility for anything he did. When he was a young boy he was spoiled beyond belief. He used to pull up Jack’s flowers and laugh. His parents would act like it was Jack’s fault. Such an obnoxious family.”
“They’re getting a little bit of that back now,” Beatrice Golden said. She was a woman who lived in Caspar, and Zyah had met her the very first day she had come to work. “Their son refuses to help them at all. He doesn’t work, you know. He lives off his trust fund. He lies around their guesthouse all day smoking pot. If they ask him for anything, he won’t do it for them.”
“How sad,” Zyah said. “One would think he would at least have some respect for his parents.” She put the groceries in Beatrice’s tote.
Beatrice moved to one side along with Marie and Jane Darden to allow the next customer access to the space so Zyah could ring her up. Apparently, they were all going to continue talking.
“That young man, what was his name, that rescued Marie?” Chiffon, her next customer, asked. She was all of seventy but kept sending little glances toward the back of the store.
“Keys. He’s Torpedo Ink. He was helping out today, putting stock in the back,” Zyah supplied. He must have seen Perry holding things up on the monitor.
“He was very fast,” Chiffon continued. “And so heroic, saying he’d go to jail for Marie.”
“He did, didn’t he?” Marie said.
“He’s very good-looking, dear,” Jane added. “You’re single, aren’t you?”
Zyah’s fingers had been flashing over the keys, but she stumbled when she realized the ladies were in a conspiracy to hook her up with Keys now that they thought he was heroic and good-looking. Recovering, she gave them a small smile and a shake of her head. “You are all incorrigible.”
The women laughed, in no way deterred or remorseful. Others in the line laughed or smiled as well. Caspar was a small town, and for the most part, those who resided there knew one another. This time of day, late afternoon, most of the shoppers were locals and retired.
“What is that young man’s name again, dear?” Talia Barber asked. “I couldn’t quite hear it.” She made a face at the other women for talking so low.
Zyah knew Talia Barber lived two houses down from Jane. She owned a large piece of property with her husband, Lars. They had a main house they lived in, and had a second cottage they rented to a woman named Maggie Arnold, who, like them, was in her late sixties. They had a huge garden, mostly flowers, some very rare. Zyah had learned quite a bit about the garden from the Dardens.
“He’s called Keys, and he’s very nice. They all are, and they really have helped me. It’s been kind of difficult finding help. They come in and stock shelves sometimes and unload the trucks when they come in for Inez. I really appreciate that.”
“That’s what Inez told us,” Chiffon said. “Inez always knows everyone.”
Zyah rang the next customers up faster, hoping to keep the line moving so the women would stop matchmaking and head home. Apparently, they had a quilting class to go to, which she wanted to tell her grandmother about. Anat liked to sew, and she might find something like that very fun. It seemed quite a few of the women either knew her or knew of her through Inez or Lizz.