Almost Lost. Блейк Пирс
young to realize how hurtful those words were?
Perceiving that no more apologies would redeem the situation, she grabbed her change and hustled the young girl out of the shop before she could think of anything else tactless and personal to announce.
“It’s not polite to say things like that,” she explained, when they were out of earshot.
“Why?” Madison asked. “It’s the truth. She’s much fatter than when I saw her in the August holidays.”
“It’s always better not to say anything if you notice something like that, especially if other people are listening. She might have a—a glandular problem or be taking medication that makes her fat, like cortisone. Or she could be expecting a baby and not want anyone to know yet.”
She glanced at Dylan on her left, to see if he was listening, but he was rummaging in his pockets and seemed preoccupied.
Madison frowned as she thought this over.
“OK,” she said. “I’ll remember for next time.”
Cassie let out a deep breath of relief that her logic had been understood.
“Would you like a toffee apple?”
Cassie passed Madison her toffee apple, which she put into her pocket, and handed the other to Dylan. But when she gave it to him, he waved it away.
Looking at him in disbelief, Cassie saw he was unwrapping one of the candy sticks from the store they’d just visited.
“Dylan—” she began.
“Ah, no, I wanted one of those,” Madison complained.
“I got you one.” Dylan reached into the deep pocket of his coat and to Cassie’s horror, pulled out several more.
“Here,” he said, and passed her one.
“Dylan!” Cassie felt suddenly short of breath and her voice sounded high and stressed. Her mind was racing as she struggled to take in what had just happened. Had she misread the situation?
No. There was no way Dylan could have bought the candy. After Madison’s embarrassing comment, she’d hustled them straight out of the store. There hadn’t been time for Dylan to have paid, especially since the assistant hadn’t been very adept at working the old-fashioned till.
“Yeah?” he asked, looking at her inquiringly, and Cassie felt chilled by the fact that there was no trace of emotion in his pale blue eyes.
“I think—I think you might have forgotten to pay for that.”
“I didn’t pay,” he said casually.
Cassie stared at him, shocked beyond words.
Dylan had just coolly admitted to having shoplifted goods.
She’d never imagined that Ryan’s son would do such a thing. This was beyond the scope of her experience and she was at a loss to know how she should react. She felt shaken that her impression of a perfect family, which she’d believed in, was far from reality. How could she have been so wrong?
Ryan’s son had just committed a criminal act. Worse still, he was showing no remorse, no shame, nor even any sign that he understood the enormity of his action. He stared back at her calmly, seeming unconcerned by what he had done.
CHAPTER SIX
While Cassie stood, frozen in shock and clueless as to how she should handle Dylan’s theft, she realized that Madison had already made up her mind.
“I’m not eating stolen goods,” the young girl announced. “You can have it back.”
She held out the candy stick to Dylan.
“Why are you giving it back? I took it for you because you wanted a candy stick, and the first shop didn’t have them, and then Cassie was being stingy and wouldn’t buy you one.”
Dylan spoke in aggrieved tones, as if he’d expected thanks for saving the day.
“Yes, but I don’t want a stolen one.”
Shoving it into his hand, Madison folded her arms.
“If you don’t take it, I won’t offer it again.”
“I said no.”
Chin jutted, Madison marched away.
“You’re with me or you’re against me. You know what Mum always says,” Dylan shouted after her. With worry surging inside her at another mention of their mother, Cassie detected more than a hint of menace in his tone.
“OK, enough now.”
In a few fast steps, Cassie grabbed Madison’s arm and turned her around, bringing her back so that they all stood facing each other on the cobbled sidewalk. She felt cold with dread. The situation was spiraling out of control, the children were starting to fight, and she hadn’t even addressed the issue of the theft. No matter how traumatized they were, or what emotions they were suppressing, this was a criminal act.
She was all the more appalled that this store belonged to someone who was friendly with the family. The owner had even offered them a ride to town! You shouldn’t steal from a person who’d offered you a ride. Well, you shouldn’t steal from anybody, but particularly not from a woman who had generously tried to help that very morning.
“Let’s go and sit down.”
There was a tearoom on her left which looked full, but, spotting a couple getting up from a booth, she hustled the children to the door.
A minute later they were seated in the warm interior that smelled deliciously of coffee and crisp, buttery pastry.
Cassie stared down at the menu, feeling helpless, because every second that passed was proving to the children that she had no idea how to handle this.
Ideally, she supposed Dylan should be made to go back in and pay for what he’d taken, but what if he refused? She also wasn’t clear what the penalties were for shoplifting here in the UK. He might end up in trouble if the store policy dictated that the clerk had to report it to the police.
Then Cassie thought back to the timeline of events and realized there might be a different perspective.
She remembered that Madison had mentioned roasting chestnuts with their mother just before Dylan had stolen the sweets. Perhaps this quiet boy had heard his sister’s words and been reminded of the trauma the family had been through.
He might have been acting out his repressed emotions over the divorce by deliberately doing something forbidden. The more Cassie thought about it, the more the explanation made sense.
In which case, it would be better to handle this in a more sensitive way.
She glanced at Dylan, who was paging through his menu, looking completely unconcerned.
Madison also seemed to have gotten over her flare-up of temper. Having refused the stolen sweet and given Dylan a piece of her mind, the matter seemed to have been handled to her satisfaction. She was now engrossed in reading the descriptions of the various milkshakes.
“All right,” Cassie said. “Dylan, please give me all the sweets you took. Clean out your pockets.”
Dylan rummaged in his jacket and took out four candy sticks and a packet of Turkish delight.
Cassie stared down at the small pile.
He hadn’t taken a lot. This wasn’t theft on a grand scale. It was the fact he’d taken them at all that was the problem—and that he didn’t think it was wrong.
“I’m going to confiscate those sweets because it’s not right to take something without paying. That shop assistant could get into trouble if the money in the till doesn’t match up with the stock. And you could have landed in bigger trouble. All these stores have cameras.”
“OK,” he said, looking bored.
“I’m going to have to tell your father, and we’ll see what he decides to do. Please don’t do this again, no matter how much you’re trying to help, or how