Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 369

"Grandma!" Theodore reacted fast, throwing out his arm to shield her from the falling iron ornament. The thing bounced off his forearm and clattered to the floor.

A jagged spike bit into his skin, drawing blood.

Emma clung to her grandmother, checking her over again and again, only relaxing when she was sure the old woman was unharmed. Then she turned to Theodore, eyes catching on his bleeding arm—and then the sharp metal teeth of the ornament. The image of it crashing into her grandmother's head sent a chill through her.

The shop assistant was already frantic, wringing her hands as she apologized to Emma over and over. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen, I swear! Is your grandmother all right? Please, I didn't do it on purpose, I—"

She was just an employee, and looked about ready to burst into tears. When she caught sight of blood trickling down Theodore's arm, her panic doubled. "I— I'm so sorry! The medical bills— I'll pay for them, I swear, I—"

Technically, the accident was her fault; she'd knocked the ornament down. But it had been Cecilia who'd bumped into her in the first place. On her meager salary, the thought of anyone demanding a fortune for damages terrified her; she'd never be able to cover it.

Theodore gently positioned himself in front of Cecilia, shielding her from the assistant's distress. "No need to worry about the medical bills. It's just a scratch. But as for Grandma—"

He turned to Emma and her grandmother. "Grandma, let me take you to the hospital for a checkup, all right? I'll cover everything—any medical expenses, and compensation for the scare."

"Save it!" Emma snapped, bitterness flashing in her eyes. "What, do you think we're desperate for your money?"

Theodore was caught off guard, but she was right—Larson was around, and money was the least of their concerns.

The shop owner appeared then, looking rattled herself. "Maybe we should call the police?" She'd heard the whole story by now, and wanted no part of the blame. It was clear the whole mess had started with that customer trying on wedding dresses, not her staff. Even if they said now the store wasn't at fault, who knew if they'd change their tune later?

Better to let the police sort it out.

Cecilia clung to Theodore's sleeve, her eyes wild with anxiety.

By this point, calling the police was almost beside the point.

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