Uniworld?”
His partner, watching people come up the aisle, began speaking out of the side of his mouth. “So tell me, little lady. You think it’s polite to go around bad-mouthing the nice people letting you advertise your business here?”
Nicepeople?
“Give me a break,” I said. “I’m paying Uniworld a hefty fee for this space. Do you think it’s polite of them to sell dairy products loaded with hormones? Do you want your family drinking milk that could cause serious health issues down the road? How do you look in a bra? Because you’ll need one when you start to grow breasts.”
“Okay, here’s how it is,” Guard Number One said, leaning on his paws again, as the other guard discreetly felt his chest for signs of growth. “Stop with the petition and you get to stay at your booth. Otherwise, we show you the door. Got it?”
Hugging the clipboard against my chest, I scowled at him.
“I said”-he leaned closer, bathing me in onion breath-“do you
“Fascist bullies!” Tara shouted suddenly, jumping to her feet. “Stop harassing my aunt!”
“Hey,” the guard said to her, holding up his palms, “calm down, there!”
Tara wasn’t about to calm down. Now she had a cause, too. Climbing onto our table, she cried, “Hey, everyone! Look at the big apes Uniworld sent to harass my aunt! Harassment!”
“Get her down from there,” the first guard said to me, looking ready to spit nails.
“Help!” Tara cried as the second guard reached for her. “Kidnappers! Call the FBI!”
“No one is kidnapping you,” the guard said, trying to smile as a gathering crowd looked on. “You wanna come down off that table, please, little missy?”
“Make me!” Tara yelled, and began to chant, “Fascist bullies!”
The first guard snarled at me, “You stop her now or I’m gonna haul the both of you off to the security office while I call in the cops.”
Yikes. That was publicity I didn’t need. “Tara,” I said, “stop. You’re not helping.”
“They wouldn’t dare hurt us, Aunt Abby,” she called. “We have witnesses. Hey, everyone! Come look-”
“Tara Kathleen Knight, come down at once!” a voice from the aisle called.
Tara froze as my mom elbowed her way to the front to give her granddaughter her most glacial glare. “Come down this instant, young lady.”
Tara climbed down meekly. Maureen “Mad Mo” Knight was not to be disobeyed.
“Now, then,” Mom said, using her steely teacher’s glare to gaze from me to the security guards, “what’s going on here?”
“These men want me to hand over my petition,” I said, showing her the clipboard.
Mom looked it over. “I see,” she said thoughtfully, then turned toward the guards. “How did you hear about this petition? Did someone complain?”
“Yeah, we got complaints,” the first guard said smugly.
“Complaints from whom?” Mom asked, looking quite smart in her tan wool coat trimmed in brown leather, brown slacks, and brown boots.
The guards exchanged glances, as though they couldn’t decide whether they should be answering or asking the questions. “Our employer,” one of them said.
“And your employer is…?” Mom asked, continuing her interrogation.
“Uniworld,” the first guard answered, raising his chin.
“I see,” Mom said, standing with arms akimbo. “In other words, Uniworld is against the Constitution of the United States.”
The two guards glanced at each other in bewilderment as a murmur of amusement went through the crowd. My mom hadn’t spent six years teaching eighth grade civics for nothing.
“What’s the Constitution got to do with this?” Guard Number Two asked, breaking open a package of jelly beans. His partner followed suit, making me wish I still had some of those hot beans in my possession so I could slip them into the bowl.
Mom gazed at both men in astonishment. “The right to free speech is guaranteed by the Constitution, gentlemen. Surely you know what the First Amendment says.”
To show they didn’t much care, both guards made a noisy show of chewing their candy.
Ignoring their rude behavior, Mom began to quote, “ ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press-’ ”
I glanced at the men to see how they were taking Mom’s impromptu lecture and spotted bright red dribble leaking from the corner of one guard’s mouth.
Oh no. Not the jelly beans.
“ ‘-or the right of the people peaceably to assemble-’ ” Mom paused, her eyes widening as she, too, caught sight of the red drool.
Then I noticed the other guard’s lips had turned cherry red. Neither man had glanced at the other to realize what was happening, but Tara apparently knew, judging by the giggles she was trying to suppress.
Mom continued quickly. “ ‘-and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.’ Thank you.”
The crowd burst into applause. The guards smacked their lips and reached for more candy. Tara clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
“Okay, I think my work here is done,” Mom said hastily. “Tara, let’s skedaddle.”
She wasn’t going to leave me holding the bag-or bowl, as it were. “Mom, may I speak to you for a moment?” I motioned for her to join me behind the table.
“I really need to go pick up your father at the dentist’s office, Abigail.”
I locked my arm through hers and took her with me, whispering frantically, “What did you put in the candy?”
“Nothing harmful. Just a little beet juice.”
“Beet juice!” Tara snorted, doubling over with laughter.
“You told me I’d have amazing results with that candy,” I whispered furiously to my niece.
She nodded in agreement, wiping tears from her eyes. Clearly, we had differing definitions of
Suddenly, from another aisle we heard a scream, followed by “My teeth are bleeding!”
At that moment, the security guards caught sight of each other. “Hey, man, what’s wrong with you?” the first one asked in an alarmed voice. “Your mouth is all bloody!”
“Yours is, too!” The second guard wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then stared at the scarlet stain. “What the hell is going on here?”
“I think I’m gonna puke,” the first guard said, then loped off.
Tara held her ribs as she laughed harder.
His partner pointed at me. “You’re in big trouble now.” Then he ran off, too, holding a hand over his mouth.
When another horrified wail shattered the air, uneasy murmurs began to spread through the crowd. Hearing whispers of “poisoned candy,” I called, “Everyone please calm down. The candy is colored with beet juice. Nothing to be nervous about.”
Mom sank onto a chair, a look of extreme mortification on her face.
“Where is she?” a woman cried. Then the two older ladies who’d declined to sign the petition came hurrying up to the table. “Look what your candy did to us!”
They bared their teeth, revealing decent sets of chompers, except for their vivid crimson color. Others followed close behind the women, having also partaken of the sweets.
“It’s nothing harmful,” I assured them. “All natural, totally washable, beet juice.”
After promising ten percent discounts at Bloomers to the irate bunch and sending them off at least partially soothed, I picked up the glass bowl and handed it to my chagrined mother. “We won’t be needing this anymore.”
“I feel just awful,” Mom said. “I’m so sorry, Abigail.”
“You were awesome the way you handled those big apes, Grandma,” Tara said.
“Thanks, sweetie,” Mom said. She sighed miserably as she set the candy bowl aside. “I don’t think I’m cut out
