“Pick up your things and lower your voice.”
Camille almost laughed.
“My things are on the ground because you threw them there.”
“Then pick them up.”
“You pick them up.”
That was when Marjorie stepped closer.
“What did you just say to me?”
Camille looked directly at her.
“You heard me.”
Diane moved between them slightly.
“Everybody stop.”
Marjorie ignored her.
“You have no idea how disrespectful you’re being.”
Camille looked around at the books.
“You don’t get to talk to me about disrespect right now.”
Marjorie reached toward her arm.
Camille stepped back.
“Do not touch me.”
“Stop making a scene.”
“You made the scene.”
“I am trying to resolve a theft.”
“There was no theft.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know I did not take your phone.”
Marjorie moved closer again.
Camille could smell expensive perfume.
She could see her own reflection in the woman’s sunglasses.
Behind them, somebody finally called Stonebridge security.
Peter Hall heard nothing yet.
Linden Row’s walls were thick, and Saturday customers kept him occupied.
If he had looked through the front windows at that exact moment, he would have seen his employee standing beside a pile of books while a woman he recognized as one of Stonebridge’s most influential regulars leaned into her face.
He would later replay that possibility repeatedly.
Back at the fountain, Camille bent toward the ground.
“I’m picking up my stuff and leaving.”
Marjorie caught the backpack strap again.
Camille straightened.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“Let go.”
“You are waiting for security.”
“I did not agree to that.”
“You don’t have to agree.”
Camille stared at the hand on her bag.
“Yes, I do.”
Marjorie pulled.
Camille pulled back.
Diane shouted.
The strap came free.
Marjorie stumbled half a step.
Then anger took over.
She reached toward Camille’s upper chest and shoulder.
Camille jerked backward.
“Get your hands off me.”
Marjorie’s fingers caught near the collar of the bomber jacket.
Camille swatted the hand away.
Several people shouted at once.
Marjorie grabbed again.
This time one hand caught near Camille’s shoulder while the other reached toward the side of her head.
Camille ducked.
“Stop!”
Marjorie pushed.
Camille stumbled into a café chair.
She recovered.
Marjorie came forward.
Nobody afterward agreed whether she intended to slap Camille, grab her hair, or simply restrain her.
The video showed the arm moving.
That was enough for Camille.
She blocked it.
Marjorie grabbed at her again.
Camille twisted out.
“Stop touching me!”
Marjorie lunged.
Camille stepped sideways.
One beige heel slipped slightly on the smooth pavement.
Marjorie caught herself and swung an arm again.
Camille ducked low.