“My grandson hasn’t eaten properly in two days.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Spotting the store manager nearby, I called to him.
“Excuse me! This woman took every discounted turkey and refused to spare one for a sick child.”
“I’ll look into it,” he said, glancing at Beatrice before walking away.
She rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable. I got here first!”
“And apparently, that’s more important to you than feeding a sick child.”
Beatrice seized her cart. “Remember who my family is!”
Five minutes later, as she approached the aisle’s end, the supermarket speakers crackled.
“Attention, shoppers…”
Beatrice kept moving until a man’s voice interrupted.
“Beatrice.”
She stopped abruptly, bumping her cart into a display.
“You just told everyone in aisle six to remember who your family is.”
Her grip tightened.
“Oh, no…” she whispered.
“That’s actually a very good idea.”
Color drained from her face.
“Stay exactly where you are, Beatrice.”
“Why?” she shouted.
“Because I’d hate for you to miss what’s coming.”
Beatrice stared toward the entrance.
“No…”
Moments later, an older gentleman arrived with the manager.
“Walter!” Beatrice exclaimed, forcing a smile. “What a lovely surprise!”
“Is it?”
I recognized him from newspaper photographs. Walter owned the supermarket chain, chaired the family charitable foundation, and was Beatrice’s father-in-law.
“Walter, this woman is making a scene!”
“Then explain why twelve discounted turkeys were worth humiliating someone over.”
“She’s exaggerating!”
“Did you tell her that her sick grandson wasn’t your problem?”
Beatrice hesitated. “That’s
not exactly what I meant.”
“Actually,” I interrupted, “those were your exact words.”
“She’s lying!”
I turned toward the customers. “Did anyone else hear that?”
Three shoppers raised their hands.
Walter sighed. “Beatrice, I’m disappointed.”
“Over a turkey?”
“No, Beatrice. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation.”
She stiffened. “What conversation?”
“About how you treat people. This isn’t the first time, Beatrice.”
The grandmother, Margaret, looked astonished.
“My son kept making excuses for you,” Walter continued. “And I let him.”
Margaret shook her head slightly. “Goodness…”
“Last month, I warned you that running our foundation would require more than hosting expensive parties.”
