Page 20 of With Spite

They knew the pecking order.

“Mom, I heard that the new girl has asthma.”

No point in beating around the bush.

“She said she has it, but I doubt it,” Mom admitted.

“She does,” I said. “She’s one of my club brother’s sister. She has asthma. Bad asthma. If she does something for you that she’s not supposed to be doing, and she gets hurt, she’s going to sue you.”

“She won’t,” my mother immediately disagreed.

“She will,” I said. “And her brother’s important here. Don’t force him to do anything to protect her. He’ll do it, and he won’t apologize for it.”

“He could try.”

“Mother.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “The Dixie Wardens own this town and the two surrounding it. Trust me when I say, if you piss them off, not even I can help you. They’ll boycott your business, and anyone that’s family or friends of the Dixie Wardens won’t come into your store. Trust me when I say, you don’t want this fight.”

“You’re exaggerating.” My mother sighed.

“I’m not,” I disagreed vehemently. “And I also think that you need to be careful about how you treat her. She’s liked by everyone. You hurt her in any way, or wrong her, everyone’s going to know that, too.”

Okay, so maybe I had no clue what everyone would do. But I know what I would do if my sister had been mistreated, and there wasn’t any way in the world that I would let it go. I’d burn the world down for my sister.

“What do you suggest I do?” She sounded exasperated. “Let her work there and not do anything?”

I rolled my eyes so hard that my head ached.

“I suggest you let her do the job you originally hired her for,” I told her. “Let her work the front counter and stock shelves if it’s not too exerting. Let her do anything inside that she can do, including the medications. But don’t have her out there running the forklift or lifting heavy boxes.”

“Well, if she doesn’t, who will?”

“Hire someone,” I suggested. “A man that can handle that.”

“That’s sexist. Women can do anything a man can do.”

“I mean, they can do some of it, sure,” I agreed. “But you have these ladies out there in the warehouse trying to lift weights even some men have trouble with. Trust me when I say, she can’t do that. Nor should she have to.”

“I can’t hire anyone,” she grumbled. “No one wants to work at The Mercantile.”

Romina snorted.

Candice covered her mouth with her hand to keep the laughter from spilling out.

Maybe I shouldn’t have placed this phone call on speaker. If my mom found out the entire family was listening, she’d be pissed.

Not that I cared.

I did what I wanted.

She should know better.

This was our usual pizza night.

“Well, there’s a reason for that, I’m sure.” I sighed. “Treat your employees better, and maybe your retention rate wouldn’t be so bad.”

My mother grumbled. “Will you run the forklift if she can’t?”

“No,” I said. “I’m on site because you begged and pleaded to have my butchery on the same property as you. But I’m not there for anything to do with The Mercantile. You know that I want nothing to do with it.”