“Then buy chicken,” Beatrice replied.
“The chicken isn’t on sale.”
When the grandmother reached for the final turkey, Beatrice snatched it away.
“Ma’am, please. You already have twelve.”
“And?”
“Could you leave me just one?”
“I got here first.”
I stepped closer. “You’re seriously taking all of them?”
Beatrice glanced dismissively at my sneakers. “Absolutely. And mind your business.”
The grandmother offered her ten dollars.