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Ben grinned. “So you do remember me.”
The man scoffed. “How could I forget? You were my best customer when it came to the candies. Your father always dreaded a visit here if you were tagging along.”
I looked Ben over with a twinkle in my eyes. “I’m surprised you have any teeth left.”
“Good teeth run in the family,” Ben told me as he drew out Fyson’s list and set it on the counter. “But could you fulfill this order?”
Mr. Feormere picked up the paper and in a second he had scanned the contents and nodded his head. “Yep. Everything’s in stock.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You could tell all of that without looking at your stock?”
He nodded. “Comes with practice, miss, and I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
Ben puffed up a little as he set a hand on my shoulder. “Millie Lucas, this is Mr. Weston Feormere, the proprietor of the grocery and the third generation to take up the reins of this fine establishment.”
“Fourth,” Feormere corrected him as he nodded at a young man a few cashiers down from him. “And that’s one of my sons there. The others work the shelves and fill the wagons.”
“Is Wesson among them?” Ben inquired.
“He’d better be,” Feormere quipped as he held up the list. “But I’ll get started on this. I wouldn’t want any of it to get wet in the coming rain.” And with that, he bowed his head and hurried to fulfill our order.
“I like the service,” I mused as we wandered away to enjoy the sights before we drove home.
“They’ve succeeded because of their service,” Ben told me as we sauntered through one long aisle after another.
He stopped at an intersection and a smile slipped onto his face. I followed where his eyes were focused and found him staring at a man about his age who was stocking the shelves. Ben pressed a finger to his lips and tiptoed toward the fellow.
“You couldn’t do that then and you can’t do that now,” the man spoke up without so much as tilting his head in our direction.
Ben dropped his stance and laughed. “I had to try, Wesson, if only to see if you had slowed up.”
Wesson turned his head and grinned at Ben. “I think I’ve gotten better. It comes with having kids of your own to watch.” His attention fell on me and his eyebrows shot up. He stood and brushed himself off as he offered me a less mischievous smile. “And who have we here?”
Ben gestured first to me and then to the man. “Millie Lucas, this is Wesson Feormere, youngest and most troublesome of the Feormere children.”
He grasped my hand and pressed a light kiss to the top. “A pleasure, Miss Lucas.”
“Millie, if you please,” I insisted.
“Then you must call me Wesson,” he returned.
“Wesson?” The voice that called the young stocker was that of his father. The older Feormere had a displeased look on his face and our list in his hand. He marched up to us and shook the paper at his young son. “Where is the spare flour? The shipment that came in yesterday afternoon?”
Wesson nodded in the general direction of the back room. “In the warehouse, Father. We couldn’t find enough men to unload it.”
The elder Feormere frowned. “When will it be unloaded? Ben here needs twenty pounds himself, and I have several other customers waiting for their
“I could unload it myself after I’m finished here and deliver it to the customers and Rookwood later this evening,” Wesson suggested.
“I’m sure we could wait that long,” Ben assured the proprietor.
Feormere sighed. “Very well, but this must be avoided in the future.”
Wesson shook his head. “It couldn’t be avoided, Father. The bent shadow has everyone on edge so they won’t come to work until the sun is up.”
“A bent shadow has your men spooked?” Ben wondered.
Feormere sneered at the mention. “It’s merely a fancy of their imaginations, but the rest of your order is nearly done. It’ll be ready for you at the counter.” He hurried away to his other duties.
