“Girls’ day tomorrow!” she wrote. “Bellamont is having a sale, and I still have space on my card there. My treat.”
Bellamont.
One of the accounts from the fraud report.
I stared at my phone and then at Ethan.
“Well,” I said. “Looks like the show is scheduled.”
He snorted.
“Do you want to go?” he asked.
I wandered near the beauty section and pretended to look at candles.
“Do you?”
“I kind of do,” he admitted. “But I also kind of don’t want to catch a lifetime ban from a department store when I yell at her.”
We decided I’d just “happen” to be there.
The next day, I went to Bellamont about half an hour after she said they’d arrive.
The place smelled of expensive soap and muted judgment.
I wandered near the beauty section and pretended to look at candles.
Then I heard her.
I ducked behind a display and watched.
That loud, bright laugh she uses in public.
She walked in with two of her friends, dressed like they were in an ad for brunch.
I ducked behind a display and watched.
She went straight for the pricey skincare gadgets.
Of course, she did.
She picked up some sleek gold thing and gasped.
“This is the one from the commercial!” she told her friends. “It works with everything.”
Margaret handed over a familiar blue card.
She carried it to the register.
I drifted closer, heart pounding.
The cashier scanned it.
Margaret handed over a familiar blue card.
My card.
Or, it used to be.
The cashier swiped.
Margaret handed over a familiar blue card.
The machine beeped.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the cashier said. “It’s been declined.”
Margaret laughed.
“That’s not possible,” she said. “Run it again.”
The cashier did.
Beep. Declined.
Margaret’s smile got tighter.
More beeping.
“Try entering the number manually,” she said.
More beeping.
“Still declined,” the cashier said. “It says the account is locked due to suspected fraud. You’ll have to call the number on the back.”
The line behind her was definitely listening now.
Margaret puffed up, like a bird in winter.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I’ve used this card for years. My son pays it. I’m authorized.”
She pulled out her phone and called on speaker.
“My daughter-in-law just does the online part.”
“Yes, hello,” she said. “This is Margaret. I’m here at Bellamont, and my card is being declined. This is my son’s account. I use it all the time.”
I could hear the bank rep faintly.
“…can only speak with the cardholder…”
“I handle the payments,” Margaret said. “My daughter-in-law just does the online part.”
Another pause.
Her face changed.
That was when she saw me.
“What do you mean I’m not on the account?” she demanded. “Of course I’m allowed. I’m his mother.”
“…for security, we…”
She hung up, flustered and furious.
“This store is a joke,” she told the cashier. “You just lost a very loyal customer.”
She snatched the useless gold gadget off the counter, realized she couldn’t take it, then slammed it back down and spun around.
That was when she saw me.
Her eyes went wide, then narrowed.
“You tampered with the card.”
“Lisa,” she said. “What a coincidence.”
I shrugged.
“They’re having a sale,” I said. “Figured I’d look.”
She walked up close, her voice dropping.
“You did this,” she hissed. “You tampered with the card. You made me look like a fool in front of my friends.”
“How would I tamper with your card?” I asked. “I’m not the cardholder.”
Her jaw clenched.
Margaret shot me a death glare.
“You froze it,” she said. “You changed something. After everything I buy for you two—”
“For us?” I asked. “Is that what the rainbow bidet was for?”
One of her friends actually choked.
Margaret shot me a death glare.
“This is not the place,” she said. “We will discuss this at home.”
She marched out, friends scurrying after her.
I texted my husband.
“She tried the card.”
Leave a Comment