Eternally 21: A Mrs. Frugalicious Shopping Mystery Read Online Free PDF

by an upbeat top-forty number, the word sale emblazoned all over the store, and a notable lack of Laila DeSimone.
    A worse-for-wear Barbie type wearing a Whimsies nametag brushed past me as I stepped inside.
    Hailey, the salesgirl in zebra print, met me practically at the door. “Tara told me you might be stopping by.”
    “So nice of her,” I said, noting my pile of jewelry and assorted accessories as she ushered me toward the register area. An equally familiar beverage cup and open pizza box sat beside them.
    “It’s a good thing Laila has us get lunch for her.” Hailey ducked behind the counter. “I’ll ring you right up and get you on your way.”
    “Tara’s not here?”
    “She’s in the back office.” She offered me a chocolate from the box of mostly wrappers beside the register. “Chocolate? There are only two left.”
    I eyed the rectangular one that was surely a caramel. “Thanks, but no.”
    “Take it for later,” she said. “In fact, take both.”
    “I shouldn’t.”
    “They’ll just go to waste. I’m allergic, Tara doesn’t want any, and Laila’s already eaten her fill for today.”
    “In that case, I’m sure my guys will love them.” I grabbed the two remaining candies, wrapped the protective paper around the top, and tucked them carefully in my purse. “Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.” Hailey smiled and picked up a bracelet from the top of my pile. “It must be so totally awesome to have a husband that’s on TV and stuff.”
    “It is,” I said and quickly changed the subject. “So I assume the mall security officer was already here?”
    “He still is,” Hailey said.
    “With Tara in the back?”
    The door to the backroom squeaked open.
    All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head as Laila DeSimone appeared.
    “And Laila,” Hailey whispered. “I’m afraid she never left.”
    There was no stepping backward, no turning and fleeing or otherwise vanishing during the awkward eternity of super-slow motion seconds that passed. Before I could coerce my voice or legs into action, Laila’s mouth morphed into what might have been considered a nervous smile. “Griff told me you don’t like to play the don’t you know who I am card.”
    Griff could kiss his tickets to a Frank Finance taping goodbye.
    “I really respect that,” Laila said in a far slower drawl than her clipped speech of earlier that day. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you came back in.”
    “I wouldn’t have, but for Tara. She—”
    “Ran into you at the food court.” Laila giggled, but her awkward attempt at situational humor fell flat, at least where I was concerned.
    “So to speak.”
    Laila wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she glanced at my assortment of clothing and accessories. “I saved all your stuff, hoping you would come back and get it all.”
    “Tara mentioned that,” I said, unwilling to let Laila grab whatever credit she intended to take for poor, put upon Tara’s foresight. “She really went above and beyond.”
    “She’s the best,” Laila mumbled. She lifted her drink, took a big sip, handed the cup and pizza box to Hailey, and motioned her toward the back office with her head. “Can you tell her to sign whatever paperwork is left and to sit tight for a few minutes?”
    “Will do,” Hailey said.
    “So sorry things happened the way they did,” Laila said in that slow, odd drawl. As Hailey disappeared into the back, she lowered her voice. “The girls thought you were this woman who’s a known shoplifter around here, and I—”
    “Didn’t think to give me the benefit of the doubt?”
    “You look alike, and from what I hear you haven’t been around the mall as much lately, so I didn’t know … ” Laila rubbed her left arm for a moment longer than seemed necessary. “I really feel just awful about the whole situation.”
    The part of me that wanted to say, I’m sure you do, particularly after finding out you behaved so badly in front of the wife of a