Page 15 of A Little Bit More

Betty the Babysitter

This story takes place a few weeks after the bonus story, about Betty’s living wake, at the end of Caught, Invertary Book 7.

The rumor around the Highlands was that Betty McLeod didn’t have a heart. Some said she’d handed it over to the devil at the same time as she’d sold her soul. Others said it’d been shattered when her fiancé ran off with her sister. And a few believed she’d never had one to begin with. But the truth was that Betty did indeed have a heart; she was just very careful about who she let into it. After all, there was a limited amount of space.

In saying that, by the time she’d reached her mid-nineties, there were five people firmly entrenched in her wizened old ticker. Lake Benson, her honorary son—as in, it was an honor for him. Jodie Harris, because the woman could wipe the floor with anyone in Invertary and didn’t take crap from anybody. Agnes McBride, formerly Sinclair, who gave Betty a run for her money when it came to being devious. And two little girls called Grace and Lexie Benson, whom she considered her granddaughters—much to the disgust of their mother, Kirsty. Which, as far as Betty was concerned, was a bonus.

It was these two little girls who were keeping Betty company as she sat in her La-Z-Boy armchair in the corner of their father’s security shop on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in spring. The girls had finished school for the day and were hanging out in the shop while their parents worked. Usually, the girls went between their parents’ shops—Lake’s security business and Kirsty’s underwear store—which faced each other on the high street. But that day, their mother was in a meeting with suppliers, and Lake was upstairs on a conference call, which meant Betty had been left to supervise the girls—and the shop.

Oh sure, Lake had told the latest charity case manning the front desk that she was to keep an eye on everything, but Betty knew who was really in charge here—her. She was also aware that this was the first time since her “living wake” that she’d been left alone this close to Benson Security’s storeroom. The storeroom that housed the weapons.

It was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass.

Eyeing the woman behind the counter, another mousy misfit Lake had taken pity on, Betty lifted her chin. “Hey, you, girlie,” she called, making the young woman start and her granddaughters stop coloring to see what was happening. “Lake wants the girls to have ice cream. You’d best fetch some straight away.”

“Ice cream!” Five-year-old Grace was already on her feet and bouncing around in excitement at the prospect of a sugar fix.

Her more circumspect six-year-old sister, Lexie, eyed Betty thoughtfully, as though trying to work out her angle. Betty knew she shouldn’t have favorites when it came to her girls, but Lexie was definitely an apple from her grandmother’s tree. There wasn’t much that got past that wee one.

The mouse behind the counter blinked at Betty several times before whispering, “Mr. Benson didn’t say anything about ice cream.”

“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” Grace chanted as she ran around the room.

“Aye, well, he mentioned it to me. Now, away ye go and fetch us some.”

The mouse, Betty couldn’t remember her name, cast a nervous glance toward the stairs up to Lake’s office. “Maybe I should check. He was very clear about watching the shop and the…uh…children.”

It didn’t take a genius IQ to deduce that Betty had also been on his list of things to watch.

She shrugged. “You do as you see fit, lassie. I’m no’ sure I’d want to interrupt such an important call over some ice cream, but I’m sure you know best. After all, you’ve been working here a whole month now.” She clasped her hands in her lap and pretended to be fascinated by the pattern on her tartan dress.

“I want ice cream,” Grace said loudly. “Chocolate, and strawberry, and sprinkles, and with a flake, and vanilla…” Her jet-black hair swished about her face as she danced around the room.

“She really wants ice cream,” Lexie told the mouse. “I like ice cream too. My favorite is chocolate chip.”

“I wouldn’t mind a wee cone myself,” Betty said. “But I understand if you feel you cannae go get one for me.” She heaved a weary sigh. “Lexie, love, help yer granny out of her chair. I’m sure I can manage to hobble down to the newsagent and get us some ice cream. Grace, my wee darling, see if you can find Granny’s cane.” She didn’t have a cane, but that didn’t stop Grace from running off to find it. Bless her wee heart.

“Hold on tight, Gran.” Lexie held out her tiny hand. “Daddy will be really upset if you hurt yourself.” Her large brown eyes were so solemn, you’d never guess she’d taken it upon herself to join in Betty’s con. Aye, Lexie was definitely her favorite.

“I’ll be careful.” Betty tried to sound vulnerable. “I might be a few years shy of a hundred, but I still have some life in me yet.” She muffled a fake groan as she reached for Lexie’s hand.

“Maybe I could run to the shop,” the mouse said. She gnawed at her bottom lip for a second, working through the dilemma in her tiny head. “It’s only a minute or two from here anyway. Right?”

Betty sank back into the seat. “If you’re sure. I don’t want you getting into any trouble, but I’d much appreciate the help, seein’ as my old bones are no’ what they used to be.” Which was utter rubbish. She was just as spry as she’d been at eighty. Maybe even at seventy—on a good day.

The mouse took in the wide-eyed, eager faces of the two little girls, then the relief on Betty’s—hopefully—innocent-looking face. The lassie nodded and reached for her jacket. “Yes, I’m sure I can run to the shop for ice cream. As long as you promise that none of you will leave while I’m gone, okay?”

“Cross my heart,” Betty said solemnly. Although she didn’t make the gesture because she wasn’t entirely sure where the stone-sized organ was located these days. “I’m no’ going anywhere, lassie, and I’ll make sure the bairns stay where you left them too.”

The young woman glanced back at the stairs to Lake’s office again before nodding. “Okay then, what flavor do you want?”

Betty made a show of thinking hard about her answer when, really, she didn’t give a flying fig about ice cream. In the end, she ordered what she assumed would take the longest to fetch. “I’ll have a three-scoop cone: chocolate, vanilla, and rum. Dipped in chocolate and with a flake. Grace will have three scoops an’ all, any flavors, but she’ll want sprinkles. And Lexie?”

Lexie turned her serious little face up to the woman. “I like the little tubs. I want chocolate chip with butterscotch sauce and two spoons.”

“Two spoons?” the woman asked.

Lexie nodded. “I always drop one.”