Mrs. Withers.
The woman stood in front of me in hot pink polyester pants and a trippy pink, red, and white blouse that she’d probably had since the seventies. On anyone else, the shirt might have worked. On her, it was nauseating.
“A pleasure to see you, Mrs. Withers.” My voice dripped with sarcasm but again, after this morning, I had zero fucks left to give.
“I talked to my nephew about you,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows and said nothing.
“He’s on the Town Council. Said you couldn’t run. You’d have to be a resident for at least two years, and file a notice of intent. It just so happens that the deadline has passed.” She glared at me and sniffed, pleased as punch with herself.
“Honestly, Mrs. Withers, it’s flattering you checked on that for me. I appreciate you doing that. Saved me the effort of figuring it out.” I made to move out of her way, but she stepped with me.
“I don’t know what games you’re playing at, missy, but you should be aware that you’ve picked the wrong woman to go up against.” She glared up at me. “Everyone sides with me. Always has. Your grandmother never had this town’s best interests at heart, you see. Just looked out for herself and that house.”
I bristled. “‘That house,’ as you so eloquently put it, has been in my family since it was built.”
“God willing, that’ll change soon enough,” she shot back.
“That’s not happening.”
She looked at me, a cat who’d eaten the canary. “You don’t know about the vote that’s up at the next meeting, do you?”
I stilled. “What are you talking about?”
Behind me, the shop door opened and Ceci came in. “Devon, hi! Mrs. Withers, hello.”
Mrs. Withers harrumphed, hoisted her purse up beneath her arm, and walked around me.
Ceci watched her go. “What’s got her so riled up?”
“Do you know anything about a vote at the next Town Council meeting?”
She raised a perfectly arched brow at me. “Devon. Between the twins, my father, and your brother—who I love dearly but who is still, bless him, a man—it takes every moment of every day for me to hang on to the tiny shred of sanity that I still possess. What makes you think I pay any attention to Town Council votes?”
I pursed my lips. “Good point. It’s probably nothing, and Mrs. Withers is just mad to be mad. Let’s order.”
We ordered from Jodi, and I put the old woman and her antics behind me for the moment as we settled into the overstuffed chairs in the corner.
Ceci unwrapped the blueberry muffin on her plate. “Smell this. Grace Thomas makes them, and don’t tell her I said so, but they’re the best damn muffins I’ve had in my life. Irritates the shit out of me.”
I leaned in for a sniff. “It’s mouth-watering and I hate you for making me smell something I can’t eat.”
She shrugged. “Can’t help it if you’re clumsy.”
My eyes widened. “Wow, that’s low.”
She grinned as Jodi walked up with our drinks. “Spinach-kale-pineapple smoothie for you,” she said, handing the cup to me, “and lavender latte for you.” She set Ceci’s down with a flourish, her hair framed by a bandana that matched the matte red of her lips. “Drink up!”
I thanked her and took a sip through the straw. “Delicious. And way better than what I’m coming up with at Gigi’s, so thank you.”
She grinned. “You’re welcome.”
“But if spinach is in the wires after I’m finished, I’m going to kill you.”
“Forget about the smoothie,” Ceci said, waving her hands in the air. “And tell us all about him.”
“Give me, like, thirty seconds,” Jodi said. “I need a coffee for this.” She ran behind the counter, poured herself a cold brew, and bolted back, skittering into the chair Ceci pulled up for her.
“Okay, spill,” she said, propping her hands on her chin and batting her eyes at me. “Preferably in the next sixty seconds before something else happens back there and I fire Darius, and since he is the only other person who works here, I will regret it immediately.”
I laughed, unable to resist the two of them when they were looking at me like this. “Well, he followed me here.”
Jodi’s eyes lit up and she looked around. “Where is he?”
“Outside.”
She and Ceci kept looking. “I don’t see him,” Ceci said.
“Four legs, scruffy yellow hair, ugly cute?” I prompted.
Ceci huffed and scowled. “You know good and well we didn’t mean Samson.”
I grinned evilly. “He keeps coming into the house, but I still refuse to feed him. Can’t have him depending on me.” Which was true. I didn’t need him on my conscience, no matter how cute he was.
Ceci held up a hand. “Quit avoiding my real question, which is, how are things going with Aaron?”
“Because we know you went for a hike with him,” Jodi said.
