I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella Read Online (FREE)
I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella
Originally published: February 5, 2019
Author: Sophie Kinsella
Genre: Domestic Fiction
The trouble with me is, I can’t let things go. They bug me. I see problems and I want to fix them, right here, right now. My nickname isn’t Fixie for nothing.
I mean, this can be a good thing. For example, at my best friend Hannah’s wedding, I got to the reception and instantly saw that only half the tables had flowers. I ran around sorting it before the rest of the guests arrived, and in her speech, Hannah thanked me for dealing with “Flowergate.” So that was OK.
On the other hand, there was the time I brushed a piece of fluff off the leg of a woman sitting next to me by the pool at a spa day. I was just trying to be helpful. Only it turned out it wasn’t a piece of fluff; it was a pubic hair growing halfway down her thigh. And then I made things worse by saying, “Sorry! I thought that was a piece of fluff,” and she went kind of purple, and two nearby women turned to look …
I shouldn’t have said anything. I see that now.
Anyway. So this is my quirk. This is my flaw. Things bug me. And right now the thing that’s bugging me is a Coke can. It’s been left on the top shelf of the leisure section of our shop, in front of a chessboard propped up for display. Not only that, the chessboard is covered with a brown stain. Obviously someone’s opened the can or dumped it down too hard and it’s splattered everywhere and they haven’t cleared it up. Who?
As I look around the shop with narrowed eyes, I fully suspect Greg, our senior assistant. Greg drinks some kind of beverage all day long. If he’s not clutching a can, it’s noxious filter coffee in an insulated cup decorated with camouflage and webbing, as though he’s in the army, not working in a household store in Acton. He’s always leaving it about the place, or even thrusting it at customers and saying, “Hold this a mo,” while he gets a saucepan down off the display for them. I’ve told him not to.
Anyway. Not the time for recriminations. Whoever dumped that Coke can (Greg, definitely Greg), it’s caused a nasty stain, just when our important visitors are about to arrive.
And, yes, I know it’s on a high shelf. I know it’s not obvious. I know most people would shrug it off. They’d say: “It’s not a big deal. Let’s get some perspective.”
I’ve never been great at perspective.
I’m trying hard not to look at it but to focus instead on the rest of the shop, which looks gleamingly clean. A little shambolic, maybe, but then, that’s the style of our all-purpose family shop. (Family-owned since 1985, it says on our window.) We stock a lot of different items, from knives to aprons to candlesticks, and they all need to go somewhere.