'Yes,' Ginny agreed. 'It is.' She placed a soft hand on his stomach. 'But Sam probably won't do it.'
'Probably not.'
'And if The Store won't let Shannon go?'
'We'll take her with us anyway.'
'What do we do if The Store comes after us?'
He looked down at her. 'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.'
They brought it up at breakfast.
Sam stated immediately and unequivocally that she had duties and responsibilities, that The Store put its trust in her and she could not let the company down. There was no way she could take any time off.
She walked out of the room without waiting for a response. 'I have to get ready for work,' she informed them.
Bill turned toward Shannon, who was sipping her orange juice, trying to look invisible. 'You, young lady, are coming with us.'
'Da-ad!'
'Don't 'dad' me.'
She put down her orange juice. 'I can't. I'll lose my job.'
'You have to quit anyway when school starts.'
Shannon stared at him, shocked. 'No, I don't!'
'Oh, yes, you do.'
'You're part of this family,' Ginny said, 'and you're going to go on vacation with us.'
'I don't want to!'
Bill leaned forward across the counter toward her. 'I don't care if you want to or not. You're going.'
'How come Sam gets to stay home?'
'Sam is a year older than you.'
'So?'
'So, she's eighteen.'
'Big fucking deal!'
Ginny hit her.
It wasn't a hard hit, not a punch, but it was loud, a slap across the face, and they were all stunned by it, Ginny most of all. She had never slapped either of her daughters before, and Bill could tell that she instantly regretted the action. Still, she did not perform the cliched follow-up, did not immediately hug Shannon and tearfully apologize. She merely stood there, staring at her daughter, and it was Shannon who burst out crying and did the tearful hug, jumping off her chair, throwing her arms around her mother and apologizing.
'I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mom!'
Ginny gave her a quick hug in return, turned her about. 'You should be apologizing to your father.'
Shannon moved around the counter. 'I'm sorry, Dad. I . . . I don't know why I said that.'
Bill smiled. 'I've heard the word before.'
Shannon wiped her nose, laughed.
'But you're coming with us,' he said. 'We're all going on vacation. As a family.'
This time Shannon nodded. 'Okay,' she said. 'Okay.'
2
Shannon approached Mr. Lamb with trepidation. She hadn't really spoken to the personnel manager alone, on a one-to-one basis, since she'd been hired, and she found herself somewhat frightened by the prospect. He was standing in front of the Customer Service counter, talking to a customer, and she waited for him to finish before approaching him, glancing nervously up at the wall clock above the counter as the minutes of her break ticked by.
She didn't want him to catch her taking a too-long break.
She watched the personnel manager as he talked to the woman. He had always seemed to her very intimidating, and he seemed even more so now, since he'd been elected mayor. He never mentioned his new office in meetings, and no one else did, either, but it was known and it was there, in the background, and it lent to him a power above and beyond what he already possessed.
At the party on election night, the victory party, The Store had provided free food and liquor, and more people had shown up for that reason than to celebrate the election results. She'd helped Holly pass out candy and mints, and the party had grown wilder and wilder as the night wore on, with Mrs. Comstock, the librarian, taking off her clothes and dancing naked in the Stationery aisle, Mr. Wilson, the postmaster, picking a fight with Sonny James in Boys' Wear, and a group of rowdy women puking on cue in Housewares. But Mr. Lamb had remained aloof and above it all, completely sober and in control, and Shannon's most vivid memory of that night was of loud, drunken, half-dressed men and women attacking each other while Mr. Lamb, smiling, looked on.
She hadn't told her parents what had happened that night, but she'd talked to Diane about it, and her friend had suggested that she quit her job at The Store. 'You're only there because you're bored,' she said. 'You don't really need the money. Why don't you just find something else to do?'
She'd seen Diane less and less this summer, and it wasn't just because of their conflicting schedules. Working for her dad, Diane had developed an anti store attitude similar to her parents', and the same contrary impulse that had caused Shannon to defend The Store to her parents had made her do the same with her friend.
'I like working at The Store,' she told Diane coldly. 'I'd rather do what I'm doing than what you're doing.'
Truth be told, she didn't like working at The Store. And she'd much rather be working for Diane's father than for Mr. Lamb. But for some dumb reason, she didn't seem to be able to admit that aloud. Not even to Sam, who had asked her point-blank about the subject more than once.
Which was why she and Diane were on the outs.
Which was why she'd fought with her parents about the vacation.
She looked up at the clock again, her hands sweaty with tension.
She wished she'd never applied for a job here.
Mr. Lamb finally finished with the customer, and as the woman walked away he turned, smiling, toward Shannon. 'Shannon,' he said. 'You have exactly five and a half minutes left on your break. How may I help you?'
She'd practiced in her mind the words she would say, but all of her planned statements had suddenly fled. She could not remember what she wanted to say or think of how to ask him for time off. She stalled. 'I, uh . . . could I . . . could we, uh, talk in your office?'
He looked her over and nodded. 'Certainly. You still have four and a half minutes left.'
Maybe she'd be lucky, she thought, as she followed him behind the Customer Service counter. Maybe Mr. Lamb would fire her.
Lucky? Would getting fired be lucky?
Yes, she thought, looking at the back of the personnel director's suit.
Yes, it would.
He walked into the small room, sat down at his desk, motioned for her to take the chair opposite him. She did so.
The door to the office closed behind her, and she turned her head to see who had pulled it shut, but there was no one there.
'What is it?' Mr. Lamb asked. The patina of friendliness that had been in his voice outside, on the floor, was gone, and there was a hardness to both his words and his attitude as he faced her across the desk. She was not just nervous, she was afraid to ask what she'd come here to ask, and she suddenly wished she'd tried to do this some other place, at some other time.
She cleared her throat. 'I know this is kind of short notice, Mr. Lamb, but my family's going on vacation to Carlsbad Caverns next week, and I was wondering if I could take three days off. We'll be gone for five days, but I don't work Monday, and Gina said she'd trade with me for Friday, so I'd only need Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.'
He smiled insincerely. 'Oh, you're going to be going on a family vacation.'
She nodded.
