Chapter 5 - Lessons in Aisle Four
The sound of Beatrice’s coat tearing made several onlookers stifle quiet laughs.
Beatrice tossed the potatoes into the cart with unnecessary force, glaring at the surrounding crowd.
“Happy now?” she sneered toward her father, who stood beside a pyramid of canned peaches.
“We still need carrots, onions, and garlic,” Martha said gently, ignoring the heiress’s venom.
“And maybe some oranges. Leo loves oranges when his throat hurts.”
Beatrice looked down at the remaining forty dollars in her hands, her mind racing.
She had never looked at price tags in her entire life.
To her, food was something that appeared on porcelain plates at five-star restaurants or inside takeout containers from high-end bistros.
She walked over to the organic fruit display and grabbed a pre-packaged wooden crate of imported citrus.
“That crate is twenty-two dollars, dear,” Martha pointed out quietly from behind her.
“That’s more than half of what your father gave you.”
Beatrice looked at the small printed label on the crate and froze.
“Twenty-two dollars for fruit? That's insane!”
“That's why we buy the loose ones in the wooden bins,” Martha explained patiently.
Martha picked up a lightweight plastic bag, selected four bright oranges, and placed them on the hanging scale.
The needle swung to two pounds.
“That will be two dollars and forty cents,” Martha smiled, tying a neat knot in the bag.
Beatrice watched the old woman's deft, economical movements with a strange, gnawing feeling in her chest.
She had spent three hundred dollars on a single dinner cocktail the night before without blinking.
Yet here was a woman calculating pennies just so a six-year-old boy could taste fresh citrus while fighting a fever.
As they moved toward the pharmacy section, Beatrice’s phone rang in her pocket.
The screen flashed the name of her fiancé, Julian, the heir to a regional shipping empire.
She answered frantically, turning her back to the crowd.
“Julian! Oh thank god, you need to come down here right now. My dad has completely lost his mind!”
“Beatrice?” Julian’s voice sounded cold, distant, and hurried over the speaker.
“Have you seen the internet? You’re trending on Twitter and TikTok.”
“It’s a huge misunderstanding! Some beggar grandmother tried to steal my groceries!”
There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line.
“My father just called me from our corporate board meeting,” Julian said, his tone devoid of warmth.
“Our shipping contracts rely heavily on public municipality deals. We can’t be associated with someone who bullies sick children over nine-dollar turkeys.”
Beatrice felt the ground fall out from beneath her designer boots.
“Julian, wait! We’re getting married in June!”
“The wedding is on hold, Beatrice. Delete my number until this blows over.”
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The line went completely dead.
Beatrice stared at the glowing screen as a dial tone buzzed in her ear, realizing that her golden world was crumbling around her in aisle four.
