Colby
Grocery Store Rumor Disaster
I need three things.
Coffee.
Eggs.
Bread.
Considering I am a professional hockey player who regularly gets hit by men built like freight trains, this should not qualify as a high-risk mission.
Unfortunately, I live in Briar Cove.
I know something is wrong the second I walk through the automatic doors of Peterson's Market.
The cashier nearest the entrance looks up.
Freezes.
Then smiles.
Not a normal smile, a knowing smile.
The kind that makes a man immediately suspicious.
I nod cautiously.
She nods back.
Still smiling. That's unsettling.
I grab a basket and head toward produce.
An elderly man stocking apples spots me.
"Morning, Colby."
"Morning."
"How's the family?"
I stop walking.
He continues arranging apples like he hasn't just launched a grenade into my morning.
"The what?"
"The family." He gestures vaguely. "You know. Sadie and the little one."
I stare.
He grins, then wanders away before I can respond.
Fantastic.
I continue toward the dairy section.
