I felt the anger and humiliation of the betrayal settle into a scowl on my forehead.
Gran reached up. “You don’t want wrinkles. Women who are on a rocket ship to thirty-five with no kids don’t need wrinkles.”
That was what stung the most. Brooks and I had had trouble conceiving. We—meaning I—had spent thousands on fertility specialists, and the minute Brooks ran off to cheat on me? Bam. The homewrecker was pregnant.
“I wish he’d get run over by a herd of reindeer.” I wiped at my eyes with my apron.
“You didn’t need a baby with that balding Ronald McDonald anyway.” Gran made a rude noise.
“Speak of the devil…” I glared at the front door.
“Don’t do the devil like that,” Gran said loudly. “At least Lucifer is hot and doesn’t have a beer gut!”
Oakley, homewrecker extraordinaire, paraded into my own freaking café, arm in arm with my own freaking husband. Even though she had a huge eight-month-pregnant belly, she was still graceful in high heels.
Meanwhile, my face was puffier than hers, and I wasn’t pregnant.
Life was so unfair.
“I don’t know what you’re doing in here unless it’s to join with me and Emmie in plottinghismurder.” Gran jabbed in Brooks’s direction with a spoon.
“Murder him when I’m not late for my shift!” one of the EMTs in line called in annoyance.
“We’ll be right with you. Thank you for your patience. Pet a cat!” I called, shooing a big white Persian to go mingle with the customers.
“Cats aren’t pets—they’re human beings!” came the chants from the feral-cat-committee demonstrators.
“I don’t know how you still have customers,” Brooks sneered. “All these animals running around. And your cupcakes are infected by cats.”
“Nothing is wrong with my cupcakes,” I snapped. “I brush all the cats daily, and they don’t come into the kitchen when I’m baking.”
“Then why are these cupcakes spoiled?” Oakley thrust an open one of my café’s signature red- white-and-green-striped boxes at me.
“No skipping the line!” one of my customers yelled.
“I’m not skipping the line,” Oakley snarled. “I am here to lodge a formal complaint. Emmie’s cupcakes are revolting. You!” Oakley pointed at a cop while Brooks convulsed in anger in front of me. “You need to shut this place down. It’s a public health hazard.”
Officer Winston Girthman sighed loudly and held up his hands. One cat sitting on a shelf nuzzled his hand. He petted it. “Ma’am, there is a new law on the books. Cat cafés are legal with a provisional license.”
“I don’t care.”
“You didn’t call this cop,” Alice snapped at Oakley, waving the sign at her. “This is my cop. I called him, and cats are completely sanitary. No, this place needs to be shut down for animal rights violations!”
The cat purred.
“Seems like a happy cat to me.” Winston, the cop, shrugged.
“She’s up for adoption!” I trilled, pointing at a sign.
“I do like cats…”
“Focus!” Alice screeched.
From the crowd, there were more sighs.
A male voice complained loudly that he wished he’d stayed in New York City.
“Welcome to the quirky small town of Harrogate,” I called to him. “This is all part of our charm!”
