Different Circles

The comings and the goings of the Kingsleys were pretty much known by the town as well. Whenever Jake left San Luis Obispo airport when the wind was blowing from the southwest—as it did most of the time during the daylight hours—that noisy, expensive plane would fly right over the town before going out over the ocean and banking south. And when it returned at the end of the day, when the wind was generally offshore, it would fly over the town once again to land in the opposite direction. Many complaints had been filed with the FAA in Los Angeles regarding that airplane noise and the matter had been investigated, but the ruling had been that, while annoying perhaps, the Kingsleys’ plane was not loud enough and did not persist long enough to be considered a nuisance. The general consensus in the town was that Kingsley had used his status as a celebrity to sway the investigator into finding in his favor. It was even suggested that money had changed hands. The idea that Jake’s plane was not really louder than any other aircraft coming out of or into SLO airport—the Avanti’s impressive rate of climb meant that it was usually higher than three thousand feet by the time it passed over Oceano—but just had a distinct and admittedly annoying timbre to it, and that they had come to associate this distinct sound with someone they did not particularly care for, was never even considered.

Darlene was working one of the check stands on this Friday afternoon as she was short-staffed because that Mexican bitch Maria was knocked up (again!) and had a doctor’s appointment. She had assigned herself to the express lane, naturally, so she would not have to check huge carts full of groceries one after the other and even got some downtime on occasion. She caught a glimpse of copper coloring out of the corner of her eye and turned to see that Laura Kingsley had just entered the store. Mrs. Kingsley looked very cute today—as she did pretty much every day. She had on a pair of jeans and a green Christmas sweater. Her hair was done in matching pigtails and her cheeks were red from the brisk December air outside. Darlene felt her resentment and dislike well up just at the sight of her.

Laura grabbed one of the carts and worked her way deeper into the store, disappearing from Darlene’s view. She caught a few glimpses of her every now and then, moving her cart from place to place, putting things into it on occasion. She seemed to be spending the most time at the meat counter, in the bread aisle, and in the produce section. She also made a stop at the pharmacy, having a conversation with Rick, the pharmacist, a man Darlene also did not care for because he refused to share any gossip about what he dispensed to various town people, including the Kingsleys. Of course, Diane, the pharmacist’s assistant, was not so discrete, so Darlene and most of the other store employees—and subsequently, most of the town—had already heard that Laura Kingsley had put a hold on her birth control pills yesterday.

Laura appeared out of the freezer aisle and spent a moment looking at the lines at the check stands, evaluating which one to go to. It did not take her long to come to a decision. Aisles 4 and 6 were both open and had shoppers with full carts waiting. There was no one in the express lane currently. She headed directly to Darlene and wheeled her cart up to the front. Darlene took a quick look at her groceries, intending to tell the uppity bitch that she could not use this line if she had more than fifteen items, but, alas, Mrs. Kingsley did not.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Kingsley,” she said politely, fighting to keep a pleasant expression on her face. “Did you find everything you need today?”

“Yes, I did, thanks,” the redhead answered, giving a brief smile.

Darlene began to ring up her items. A pound and a half of 85 percent lean ground beef, a half-pound of fresh sliced cheddar cheese, a bunch of romaine lettuce, two hothouse tomatoes, a red onion, a garlic bulb, a bag of frozen tater tots, a bag of hamburger buns with sesame seeds on them. “Making hamburgers tonight?” she asked, knowing she was stating the blindingly obvious but corporate insisted they make small talk with the customers and she, as manager, rigidly enforced this.

“That’s right,” Mrs. Kingsley said, politely not making any allusion that Darlene was pointing out the blindingly obvious. “Elsa is on Christmas vacation, so Jake is making dinner tonight when he gets home. He wanted to make something simple.”