Made just enough noise so they’d know he was there. He looked through a small stack of LPs, the records Andrea had used to make up the ninety-minute cassettes playing through the store. She’d said folks would often come up and ask who was singing this or that song. Then they’d go right over and buy the album. Except for a few big names from the real world—like Johnny Cash or BJ Thomas—Rick hadn’t heard of a single one. He was reading the back of an album cover when Molly came up to greet him. She set a birthday card on the counter. “It’s Rick, right?” “Yes. Will that be all for you today?” He hoped a courteous, professional demeanor might forestall any chitchat. “This’ll be it for me, but Fran back there . . . she’s feeling guilty about just buying Madeline a card. Me? I don’t think Madeline will mind. Now, I will buy her a Christmas present in a couple of weeks.” She leaned across the counter as if to whisper, but it still came out pretty loud. “Truth is, Fran’ll feel guilty with just one of us giving Madeline a birthday present.
