Shopping
Meg stepped out of the dressing
room and checked herself in the mirror. She looked over her
shoulder. Turnbull was standing at parade rest off to one
side. He tilted his chin up so she did a full turn. When
she was through, he shook his head. Meg frowned and went back
into the dressing room to try the next outfit.
The first time that she had taken
Turnbull shopping had been an accident. She had decided to swing
by a store to pick up something to wear after the klutz had spilled
coffee all over her cream colored pants. Turnbull, quick to make
amends, joined her and offered to pay for replacements. It was a
strange trip, but she observed two things. First, Turnbull wasn't
always out of his depth, and secondly, he had excellent taste.
After that, it wasn't usual for her
to invite him to go shopping with her after work. Away from the
Consulate, Meg let her guard down and Turnbull had responded.
They had slowly become friends of a sort. She learned that the
young Mountie had quite a catty side to him. He often kept her in
stitches with his observations about the Americans around them.
He reminded her a lot of some of
her friends in Toronto, though she'd never be bold enough to ask if he
was gay. Meg was still his superior and it wouldn't be
proper. The next outfit on, she stepped back out into the store.
"Why, sir! That brings out
the sapphire in your eyes!" he exclaimed merrily.
It was getting harder and harder
for her to believe that Turnbull's goofy persona was for real.
"Turnbull, my eyes are brown."
He smiled and replied, "They'll
certainly bring out the sapphire in Constable Fraser's eyes, anyway."
Definitely an act. She
slapped his shoulder lightly and he chuckled. It bothered her
that she hadn't realized before that Turnbull's nuttiness wasn't quite
genuine. It also made her wonder why he had to
pretend. She went to change back into her own
clothes. When she was done, she almost returned the outfit he
liked, but Turnbull snatched it out of her hand. He frowned
at her and took the suit to the counter. The clerk had already
rung it up by the time she caught him, so she pulled out her credit
card with a sigh.
"You are so pushy," she added
signing the slip.
"Says the woman with the riding
crop."
The sales woman paused for a second
putting the suit into the bag before continuing as if she hadn't heard.
"It's part of the uniform," Meg
hissed with embarrassment.
"Yes, that's so much better."
The sales woman looked up and
raised her eyebrow at Meg.
"I can't take you anywhere," she
muttered and snatched the bag away from the woman. She was an
Inspector with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and she was definitely
not stomping out the door like a little kid. That would be
undignified. Turnbull followed her chuckling.
When they were back out into the
mall he made a peace offering of latte. They sat to watch the
people pass by.
"Do you miss home?" she asked.
"Not really."
Meg was surprised to hear
that. Turnbull smiled at her expression and explained.
"I miss bits of it, but my
experiences back home..."
"I understand."
"To be honest, I think Fraser is
the same way."
"You think?" she asked.
"He misses the idea of Canada, but
he'd never be leaping on cars or stopping run away nuclear trains back
home. This place has a way of getting under your skin."
"I thought if I went back, I'd
offer him a job, but I don’t really see him in Toronto. I can't
really see him here."
Turnbull had an expression on his
face, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
"Do you really think that outfit
will catch his eye?"
"Possibly."
Meg still didn't like the
expression on his face. "Maybe you should wear it instead of me,"
she said before she could stop herself.
There was a moment of silence
before he smiled again.
"Wouldn't work. My name's not
Ray."
"If it was, you'd be famous."
"True."
Meg sighed and said, "Almost makes
you wish you were an American detective."
There was a pause before they spoke
simultaneously.
"NAH!"
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