Every single one. Label facing out. Perfectly straight.
When he was done, he climbed down.
He stepped back. He looked at the shelf.
Twelve bottles of cranberry juice. In a perfect row.
He nodded.
Then he looked at me.
For the first time.
“Are you Zoe’s mom?” he asked.
“I am,” I said. “I’m Carrie.”
“Thank you for getting Terrence,” Henry said.
I looked at him.
At his round face. His thick black glasses. His name tag. HENRY.
At the way he tilted his head when he was listening hard to something.
The way Annie used to.
“Henry,” I said. “Can I tell you something?”
He nodded.
“I had a sister,” I said. “Her name was Annie. She had Down syndrome. Like you.”
Henry looked at me.
“She worked at a grocery store too,” I said. “When she was nineteen. Bagging groceries. At the Super One on London Road.”
