Page 41 of More Than a Hero
“I’m heading to the food section,” he murmured. “Gotta keep an eye on whoever’s already there. No tellin’ what they’ll throw in the cart.”
Angie chuckled, shaking her head as he walked off. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Curly and Mike standing near the women’s clothing section with Ms. Rosetta. Intrigued, she slipped around the next aisle to listen in.
“Why are you getting the dark blue one?” Curly asked, nodding toward the shirt in Ms. Rosetta’s hands.
“Because it’s nice,” she replied, smoothing the fabric between her fingers.
“Yeah, but you looked at the yellow one first.” He pointed at the bright, cheerful fabric hanging on the rack. “That one’s real pretty. Like a happy color.”
Rosetta hesitated. “Yes, but I don’t know if it’s right for me.”
Mike squinted. “You said yellow was your favorite color.”
She nodded, then sighed. “I did. But I don’t want to look like Big Bird in it.”
Mike blinked and looked at Curly before turning his attention back to Rosetta. “Big Bird?”
“FromSesame Street. The great big yellow bird.”
Curly snorted, shaking his head. “Man, life’s too short for you not to get what you want, Ms. Rosetta.”
She froze, blinking at the unexpected wisdom in his words. Her gaze flickered between the dark blue shirt and the bright yellow one, a small, thoughtful frown settling on her face.
Angie watched from a distance, biting back a grin. It seemed today wasn’t just about shopping. It was about realizing what truly mattered, one aisle at a time.
Curly tilted his head and gave her an expectant look. “Let’s ask Mr. George.” Without waiting for a response, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hey, Mr. George! Which shirt do you think Ms. Rosetta should get?”
Rasheem, who had been helping push George’s wheelchair, steered him closer to where Curly, Mike, and Rosetta stood by the racks of women’s tops.
George, sharp-eyed despite his years, took one glance at the shirts and grinned. “The yellow one.”
Rosetta’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “You think so?”
He nodded, his grin widening. “Daffodils are my favorite color, and Ms. Rosetta, you’d look like a beautiful daffodil if you wore that.”
The boys shared a look before breaking into identical wide grins, while Ms. Rosetta’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink.
“Well then,” she murmured, reaching out and plucking the yellow shirt from the rack. “I suppose I’ll take it.”
Curly pumped a fist. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
Angie watched the scene unfold from a short distance away, her heart swelling. This trip had been about shopping, but more than that, it had been about connections. Moments like this,where a compliment could brighten someone’s day or a simple gesture could make all the difference.
As planned, they had saved the grocery section for last. Angie had always intended it that way, but she was pleasantly surprised when Caleb had suggested the same thing the moment they’d entered the store.
She, Pete, and Richard wandered up and down the food aisles, answering questions, offering suggestions, and making sure everything was running smoothly. Truthfully, though, Angie knew she could have left the kids and their adopted grandparents completely alone, and they would have been just fine.
At checkout, the kids quickly took over the bagging, making sure to thank the elders for the little things they had bought for them.
Once the carts were emptied, the bags packed up, and the receipts tucked away, they all made their way outside. The kids helped load everything into the two ESAAA vans, making sure nothing got left behind. Then it was time for goodbyes.
The elders climbed into one large van, chatting among themselves, already making plans for what they’d do with their purchases. The kids piled into the other, still riding the high of a successful shopping trip.
Richard and Pete were tasked with dropping the kids off at their homes before returning to Angie’s office, where their personal vehicles were parked.
Angie turned to say goodbye to Pete, but before she could get the words out, she noticed that his attention was locked onto something across the parking lot.
She followed his gaze to the side of the supermarket, where a small group of young men lounged against the brick wall, cigarettes dangling from their fingers. They weren’t just hangingout. Dressed in their red and black, they were watching the van full of their kids.
