Star Wars - Kenobi

stared at the kid. “You’ll be begging the Jawas to adopt you.”
    He stepped forward and clapped his hands twice loudly. “That’s it, people. Good job, here. Back to the oasis. Drinks at Dannar’s Claim!”

CHAPTER THREE
    THE OLD NIKTO WOMAN plopped a bolt of cloth on the counter. “Do you work here?”
    Standing behind the counter, Annileen Calwell didn’t look up from her datapad. “No, I come in here and do inventory in my spare time.”
    A moment passed before Annileen suddenly froze. “Wait,” she said, eyes widening as she took in her surroundings. “Counter. Cashbox. Title deed.” With a look of alarm, Annileen turned abruptly to the alabaster-skinned customer. “I’m sorry, I guess I do work here.”
    It was a game they’d played every day since Erbaly Nap’tee’s first visit to the store. Except that for the Nikto woman, it wasn’t a game: Erbaly had never once remembered who Annileen was. For a while, Annileen had thought the alien simply couldn’t distinguish among humans. Eventually, she figured out that Erbaly just didn’t care—and so their game began.
    That had been eleven standard years ago.
    The shrivel-faced alien clicked her tongue with impatience. “Now, see this?” Her withered white finger jabbed at the fabric. “Do you know why this costs so much?”
    “No,” Annileen said, smiling primly. “Why?”
    The Nikto’s cracked lips pursed. She started to say something more, but Annileen stopped her.
    “Just a second. They need me in the cantina.” Her apron whirled as Annileen spun and walked the meter and a half to where her sundries counter turned into a bar. She picked up a glass that a sleeping prospector had knocked over and then returned to Erbaly. “I’m back,” she said.
    The Nikto woman tapped her foot. “Is there someone else here I can talk to?”
    “Now there, I can help you,” Annileen said. After setting the glass in a basin, she stepped out through a gap in the long counter and walked to one of the back tables, where a green-snouted Rodian huddled silently over his morning caf. Annileen clapped her hand on his shoulder—an act that he seemed not to notice in the least. “This is Bohmer,” she said.
    Erbaly studied him. “Does he work here?”
    “We don’t know,” Annileen said. “But he’s here an awful lot.”
    “Thank you just the same.” The elderly Nikto sniffed disdainfully and headed for the front door.
    Annileen picked up the bolt of cloth from the counter and called after her. “I’ll set this aside for when you’re here tomorrow, Erbaly. Have a nice day!”
    Erbaly said nothing as she stormed past Leelee Pace, Annileen’s best friend, who was preparing a parcel for mailing—another of the store’s many services. The crimson-skinned Zeltron laughed heartily as the Nikto slammed the door behind her. “That’s our Annie,” Leelee said. “Retailer of the year. Customers can’t stay away!”
    “Sure they can, Leelee.” Annileen orbited one of the luncheonette tables, cleaning it off without looking at it. “See, Dannar had it figured. Anyone can stay away for a while. Until they remember that it’s thirty kilometers to the nearest working keg. Then they never want to leave.”
    “I’ve noticed,” Leelee said, stacking packages. “That was shorter than your usual go-around with Erbaly. Something biting you?”
    “No.”
    Carting the breakfast dishes behind the counter, Annileen knew that wasn’t true. But what she’d told her friend about Dannar’s Claim certainly was. The place was the largest facility of any kind in the Pika Oasis. Two of the domes had been there since before anyone could remember, part of some ancient farm. Annileen’s late husband Dannar had added on, connecting one of the domes with a new oblong sales area beneath a rounded roof. The dome behind now constituted her family’s living quarters and guesthouse.
    The main building had been Annileen’s domain for the balance of her thirty-seven years—and in that time she’d crammed an amount of commerce that defied all geometry into the limited space. Visitors encountered rows of shelves as they entered, all angled so Annileen could see down the aisles from behind her counter that ran nearly the length of the eastern wall. But most patrons usually headed past the sundries for the rear of the main room. There, near where the far end of Annileen’s counter terminated in a bar, a food preparation area sat near eight cramped dining tables.