“Whoa. Don’t tell me he has you bamboozled already?” She chortled, and the sound turned into a cough. Impervious to Pixie’s fury, she bent forward to hack and wheeze until she finally caught her breath, only to cackle once again. “Look at you, all riled up on his behalf.” Her lip curled. “As if he needs the likes of you defending him.”
Renee had already picked up Andy and disappeared. Pixie knew she’d catch hell about that later, because Renee had wanted to deal with this particular ugliness. And it was ugly, extremely so. The woman was so foul, Pixie had to assume her husband—Brogan’s father—was no better.
And yethewas wonderful. Truly amazing. It crushed her to think of what he must have survived.
Two other customers now stood silent on the other side of the shop, watching as if afraid to move.
Pixie said, “I pity you.” She would never truly know Brogan, her daughter was gone, and she’d lost her granddaughter. Sometimes evil had a way of consuming itself. “You will leave now, and you will not come back.”
“The hell I won’t.”
“My employee is even now calling the police,” Pixie explained. “I intend to tell them all about you.”
“Brogan stole my granddaughter and I want her back!”
“Then perhaps you should call the police.” Pixie pointed at the door in silent demand.
“He robs his family, spits on his own father.” She hefted a purse strap up on her shoulder. “You tell him, girl. You tell him Ruthie said he better call. He’ll be damned sorry if he doesn’t.”
Finally, she turned and took her own sweet time moseying out, flitting her fingers over items as she went, stopping once to glare at the other shoppers, who hurriedly turned away. Then, at last, she was out the door.
The urge to race forward and lock it behind her left Pixie frazzled. She’d dealt with vile people before. Of course she had.
But she’d never met anyone like Ruthie.
She wanted to collapse. To sit down and hug herself and block images of what Connie’s childhood had likely been. Her throat burned with the need to cry. Her entire body quaked with a dump of emotions too painful to bear.
By sheer force of will, she got her feet to move. Going back behind the counter—mostly so she could lean on it—she tried to act as if everything was fine. It wasn’t. Far from it.
Though the shop wasn’t in Bramble, it was near enough that if Ruthie continued to ask around, she’d find out where Brogan was staying. Given the temperament she’d displayed here today, there was no question that she’d go after him aggressively. What the woman wanted, Pixie didn’t know.
But she did know she wanted to protect Brogan. She had to warn him.
He might choose to go away, to relocate. An awful possibility because she already cared about him. He’d come to town, bonded with Andy, and melted the ice around Pixie’s heart. In a very short time, he’d gotten her to care.
Should she call him? Devastating news was never good over the phone.
The two other shoppers cautiously approached her. One asked, “Are you all right?”
Pixie nodded. “Yes, thank you.” She wasn’t. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that. I have no idea who that person was, and I regret that she disrupted your shopping experience.”
“We started to leave,” the other one said, “but we were worried for you.”
Pixie thanked her with a smile.
“Do you know who she was looking for?”
Absently, Pixie shook her head in denial. Not even to these strangers would she confess Brogan’s whereabouts.
Renee poked her head out of the break room and glanced around. “All clear?”
“Yes.” Rushing to her, Pixie brought a now-sleeping Andy to her own shoulder, hugging him close. “Thank you. Your timing was impeccable.”
“Eh, maybe a few minutes late, I’m thinking.”
Choking on her gratitude, Pixie rocked Andy, kissed his head, and cherished the weight of him in her arms. What if he’d lived and she hadn’t? Never before had she considered that, but thinking of someone like Ruthie having her baby … Well, she thought about it now.
Renee touched her arm a few minutes later. “Hey, customers are gone for now. Why don’t you and Andy head home? Enjoy the rest of your day off.”
