Flight Read Online Free Page A

tosses it in the garbage near her feet.
    â€œPut a new roll in not ten minutes ago.”
    â€œOh,” she says. “Thanks.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    He takes another step towards her, his lower half pressed against the counter. “There’s coffee downstairs.”
    â€œHad some already.”
    â€œOh. Well, you know where to find it if you change your mind.”
    She nods.
    He just stands there.
    Jutting her chin towards the store’s entrance, she says, “You going to open?”
    â€œIn a minute.”
    Emily nods, then reaches towards the magazine rack for a Newfoundland Herald .
    Terry rushes over and grabs one before she gets the chance. He hands it to her.
    â€œThanks.” Emily rests her bum against the cash register and opens the magazine. Searches through the table of contents for something interesting. There’s an article on page forty-eight: “The New Province of Newfoundland, Labrador, and Fort McMurray,” the caption says. She flips through until she finds the page.
    Terry’s still standing there.
    â€œYou just going to watch?” she says.
    He takes his hands out of his pockets only to put them back in again.
    She closes the magazine. Pushes her pelvis forward so that she’s standing at full height. Moves closer to him. “Something the matter?”
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    â€œI don’t know. You’re acting strange.”
    Terry shrugs. Fumbles with the loose change in his pockets. “It’s nothing.”
    â€œTell me,” she says.
    He doesn’t.
    â€œTell me.”
    He releases a breath. “Okay, but you don’t have to worry, you’re still a hundred times the worker that Heather is.”
    â€œOh my God; what did I do?”
    â€œNo big deal – ”
    â€œTell me.”
    He hesitates, then says, “You left without cashing out yesterday.”
    She doesn’t say anything.
    â€œThe till was left on the counter with all the money in it.”
    Still she doesn’t speak.
    â€œNo biggie. Who’s going to steal it around here, right?”
    She goes back to yesterday in her mind. Ten customers the whole day. Maybe less. Donna Rowe with her two young ones; and Peggy Flynn with the dirty hair; Reverend Parsons, his basket loaded with Vachon Cakes and Canada Dry (To mix with his whiskey, no doubt); Alan Cross’s pretty wife, Marlene with the dimples and nice figure. Emily can even remember the clothes they wore, so why can’t she remember leaving out the money?
    Terry swallows so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t snap the top buttons of his shirt. “It’s not the first time.”
    She pauses, waits for him to go on.
    â€œMonday of last week it was.”
    She lays her palms on the checkout counter to keep herself upright. Breathes deeply, right down to her toes. Exhales, then says, “Why didn’t you mention it then ?”
    â€œBecause you’d never done it before. And who doesn’t make a mistake every now and then, right?” He takes his hands out of his pockets and rests them on his hips. “Sure, not that long ago, I closed up without shutting off the lights.”
    It’s the tiredness, she thinks. The worry. The weeks – since she’s decided to go for good – of pretending everything’s perfect. Weeks? Years more like it. Her whole life .
    Terry’s saying something, but she has to ask him to repeat it.
    â€œNo harm done, I said.”
    Emily looks past his shoulder towards the door and can swear Kent’s standing there with his face pressed against the glass, fogging up the window with his breath.
    â€œEmily?”
    She can’t turn her face away.
    â€œEmily?”
    Finally she’s able to. Looks down at her hands, wondering when it was that Terry had placed one of his over top. She lifts her chin to meet his gaze. “What?”
    â€œYou’re so pale.”
    She slips her