Silent Moments

I was folding blue 6x t-shirts when the bell over the door rang.

“We don’t open for another half-hour,” I tossed over my shoulder, wondering who would be crazy enough to come to the square today.

“Actually, I’m looking for Dawn Cavanaugh.”

I would have known that voice in a room of clones.

I turned, and looked him up and down, trying to keep the recognition from my face. He wouldn’t recall… that night. He looked pretty much the same as he had seven and a half months ago. Medium-length, messy blond hair, greenish-hazel eyes, clear skin, a nice oval face, rather soft features…. Not bad. Not drop-dead-gorgeous by any means, but pretty cute. He was also shorter than me, soaked to the bone, and he knew my name but didn’t have a clue who I really was.

“You found her,” I said warily, tensing a little bit in case he turned out to be some creeper. Hey, I watch the news—you can never be too careful. And there was that one time. Maybe he really did know who I was and he was just trying to psych me out.

“I’m Stephen Edwards. Mrs. Sawyer sent me; I’m supposed to start working today.”

I sighed mentally as I moved on to red, and not just because I was relieved that he really didn’t seem to remember me. Mrs. Sawyer wasn’t known for her hiring prowess. In fact, most of the people she’d picked to work alongside me in the last two years I’d been at the store had been downright horrible. I didn’t know him (in the conventional sense of the word, I mean), but this guy didn’t look like he was a character from a different story. He looked uncomfortable in his sopping slacks and long-sleeves, he hadn’t shaved (and possibly hadn’t washed or brushed, for that matter) in a couple days, and he had a pair of those massive cushioned headphones around his neck. He didn’t seem like the type to enjoy working with kids. In fact, he looked like the kind who would have never set foot in the store unless in the unwilling company of a bratty younger sibling.

Not exactly the breed of guy I needed as my only other co-worker. Especially not this particular specimen.

“I’m surprised you showed,” I said when I was finished my silent analysis and the last shirt was neatly placed on the display table.

“Why?”

I pointed out the window at the rain that was coming down in torrents. We weren’t likely to get any business today. Not with the hurricane watch that had been aired only half-an-hour after I’d arrived at the store. “It’s not really a day for walks.”

He shrugged. “I said I’d show up today, so I did.”

Hmm. Dedication. That was a new quality in Tiny Tots employees. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, as long as he remained oblivious.

“Do you have younger siblings?” I wondered.

He shook his head. “No, thank God.”

“Younger family members at all?”

His brow wrinkled and he looked confused. “No.” Confused looked good on him, I decided.

“Have you ever worked with kids?” I tried.

He was getting annoyed now. “Not really.” Annoyed looked even better on him. “Look, I’ve already had my interview and gotten the job. What’s with the third degree?”

“Well, last I checked this was a kids' store.” That sounded rude, I realized after I’d stopped talking. I tried to lighten my tone. “Some experience with kids is a handy tool around here.”

He grinned, and I noticed that his left eyetooth was crooked. “I’m a kid at heart.”

Great, I thought. “Kid at heart” translated to “immature”, and dedication didn’t make up for that. Maybe it really was going to be that bad.