“I can’t believe he would send me flowers,” she blurted out, but immediately regretted her words and blushed.
After lunch, customers clutching umbrellas came in one after the other. It wasn’t a flood but nine people came in and all nine bought something. Maybe, just maybe it would be alright. At closing time, she was dancing with joy. The mortgage and the loan and all the other expenses might be payable after all. The mobile sign showed up the following Thursday, as did an invoice.
By the end of the month, a steady flow of customers came in daily, with Friday and Saturday nights being the busiest. Everyone was happy: Della, Roy, Ken, Carl and even her daughter in Edmonton.
“I knew you could make a go of it,” she said to Della over the phone. But she had earlier argued against opening the shop.
Saturday night, July 20th, near closing time, two men walked in. One stayed by the entrance while the other, a man in his thirties, in a muscle shirt and sporting a week’s growth of beard, approached the counter. From his jacket, he pulled out a handgun.
“Both of you stand over in the corner, turn around, and don’t move.”
“Ah, ah, ah…” Carl said, as he shook uncontrollably.
“Shut up and do what you’re told or I’ll kill you!”
Della grabbed Carl by the elbow and led him to the far corner.
The gunman leaped over the counter like a gazelle, opened the cash register and emptied its contents into a large plastic bag he’d pulled from his jacket pocket.
“Okay, Jimmy,” he said “you take it.”
The other robber, heavy-set, wearing a Blue Jays cap and jeans, walked over and grabbed the bag. “You asshole,” he barked. “Why’d you say my name?”
The first criminal didn’t answer. He took out another bag and quickly tossed in small cartons and bags of marijuana. A minute later the robbers were both gone.
The police showed up, took statements and the security camera hard drive. The pictures weren’t very good. After it had been installed, they’d neglected to properly clean the lens.
Ken, Roy’s son, drove in from Mississauga. He looked furious, his jaw so tight he could hardly talk.
“Insurance,” he said. “What did the insurance say?”
“You were here just now when the cops left,” Della said, her voice quivering. “I haven’t had time to phone the insurance yet.” The little bastard didn’t even ask if Carl and I are okay.
When Ken finally left, Carl turned to Della and quit. “It’s not worth getting shot over any job,” he said emphatically.
By the middle of the week, she’d replaced Carl with a university student, Angela. Angela was on the boxing team and had tattoos on her arms that said so; boxing gloves, a boxer dog, a powerful woman boxer with biceps resembling bowling balls.
The insurance company was surprisingly efficient when it came to the Preferred Puff Cannabis claim for the robbery. The insurance premium went up significantly.
