You've been cerved.

Inez

Justine Green gave her phone one last look of annoyance before she put it in her purse and began to unfold and refold a couple of shirts on the counter. "Tamra's too secretive. It's not healthy. And she's always on the computer, either games or a movie...too much screen time for anyone, and her a grown woman."

Looking up from where she was cleaning donated knick knacks with alcohol wipes, Inez pointed out, "Yes, but at least Tamra's not passive when she's on her computer. Tamra's one of the digital people, you know, her life is lived online as much as off."

Possibly more, Inez thought with a grin, scrubbing a last bit of grime from the wings of an elaborate pink terracotta angel - the fifth that had been donated to the Faith Brigade Second Hand Store in the last month, and none of them donated by the same person.

To the angel, Inez whispered, "If washing dishes were an onscreen pastime, for example, Tamra would be a much neater housemate."

Justine sniffed, "I blame Tamra's father. He was always obsessed with some series or something. Couldn't wait to get time to go off and rewatch the same several episodes of some spaceship or other. I let him do it too much with Tamra. I probably should have intervened and shoved them outside more. If Ed had exercised a bit more, maybe then he wouldn't have...."

Inez decided to head off this pointless line of thought. "Let's hesitate before we ruminate, Justine. I wouldn't worry. Tamra's very healthy. She exercises. She eats...all right."

Justine grimaced, "Recently, Tamra eats only cereal or rabbit food. Unless I have her over. Okay she jogs, but she still exercises her thumbs more than her legs. She's a grown child, just like her father was, God keep him." Justine finished folding the clothes and removed her glasses to rub her eyes.

Finished with the angel, Inez placed it on the shelf next to its sisters and gave Justine a sympathetic look. "Justine, I just want to say one more time, thanks for volunteering today. I wouldn't have been able to open the consignment shop without you. Sometimes I wish Larry would just hire an actual volunteer coordinator —"

"I wish Larry just hired. Or I'd rather Larry chose to hire. Conditional conjugation." Justine corrected, putting her glasses back on.

Inez started again, "I wish Larry just hired someone instead of getting a 'volunteer'," Inez used air quotes, "volunteer coordinator to please his network. We have some money for someone in our budget, even if whoever it is wouldn't be paid particularly well. But...Larry thinks that that money put aside for coordinating the volunteers could be, um, more productively spent." On networking coffees, Inez thought silently.

"Larry talks when he should listen." Justine finished the shirts and began to rearrange some donated romance books on the 'take one, leave one' bookshelf by the cash register.

Inez grunted as she tried to lift a delivery box. She sighed and stepped back to reassess. "Maybe you're right. I don't know. I'm more worried about Amy - Amy Bennet, Larry's 'volunteer' volunteer coordinator? Do you know her?"

"Only by name. I fill in an awful lot for her these days. Always at the last minute," Justine frowned at the cover of a romance novel illustrated with three huge, muscly men and a petite, busty raven-haired beauty grinning impishly from the cover. The title in flowery gold letters was Menage a moi: Witches and werewolves unite, volume three. Justine stuck the book behind a copy of the Bible.

Inez rolled up her sleeves and tried to lift the delivery box again, this time by squatting and keeping her back straight. "Well, Amy was pretty stable for about a month but recently...I just wonder if she is okay." Despite Inez's best efforts, the box didn't budge.