Under hot Bermuda sun one summer afternoon

my ten-year-old niece and I were strolling down a boutique-y street

window-shopping a long block of small, interesting stores.

 

We paused at a display of footware to admire the colourful shoes

when I spotted a man inside watching us, surely the owner-operator,

and so I smiled.

 

In two bounds he was on the entrance steps

rubbing his palms together and beaming broadly.

'Now - who is this lovely lady with the million dollar smile?'

 

My niece bristled, at least two inches taller, and replied acidly,

'This is my Aunt Cynthia visiting us from Canada.

And she goes home TOMORROW.' (capital letters very clear)

 

His toothy smile slithered a bit but his eyes were laughing.

'Your shoes are very attractive,' I said, 'And reasonably priced.'

He nodded his appreciation of my perspicuity.

 

'But today we have pence in pocket only enough for the bake shop.'

(And a drink and bus fare home, but close enough for just a little lie.)

'Perhaps I shall return another day with intent to buy.'

 

Which meant I forgot what the kid had just said, and blew her cover.

I slipped my hand under my niece's arm, and we took our leave.

She did not relax until she had a tart between her teeth.

 

As I told my husband later, recounting the incident with delight,

'You don't have to worry about flirty men. She was better than a pit bull!

One bold move and I think she would have bitten him!'

 

 

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas

from 'Brief Encounters'

Jan., 2017