Vic said, pulling food purchases from green canvas totes with the same aplomb he’d displayed throughout her breathless rush into the house and description of her encounter in the Peace Park. Daphne nodded, her mind pinging with the contrast of mental and physical stress while watching his methodical putting away of the groceries. Soup was on sale, she saw. And bread was two-for-one. Almost everything Vic bought wore an orange discount sticker. “Right,” she said, wiping sweat from her hairline. “I didn’t know what to do.” “You didn’t do anything.” “Right.” Vic grabbed a can of kidney beans before it rolled off the kitchen counter. “So this old woman . . .” Daphne gave him a sharp look and he amended, “This older lady, you think she’s really in trouble?” “No. Right? I mean, it had to be . . . nothing.” She shouldn’t get after Vic for referring to an old lady as an old woman. The woman had said her name, hadn’t she? Daphne squinted but couldn’t recall.
