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“She has minions?” She doesn’t like anyone there.
“They’re at every public meeting, causing problems and stirring up trouble. I know you know them, so don’t lie. You volunteer there.”
“A granny gang?” I snort. “Look, I may have told Shirley about you selling the business, but I didn’t sic any gang on you.”
“Do you have any idea the trouble they cause? That plaza out near the county road, with the bakery that makes the delicious egg bread you keep bugging me to bring in here?”
“Confetti’s?”
“That one. The granny gang stalled that project for an entire year with a bunch of appeals about a ravine and beavers, and I can’t remember what all they threw at the council.”
“You’re lying.” That’s the bakery Shirley insists I bring her treats from.
“I’m not. Look it up. The last time they got a bee in their bonnets, they stirred up so much noise for Wilson, they cost him reelection.”
“The guy who let someone demolish the town’s first bank? Sounds like he did that all by himself.”
“By the time the granny gang was through with him, people were convinced he was taking kickbacks, even though there was no proof.”
“Wow. I had no idea she had that much influence.” I really did pick the right person to play cards with.
“You don’t have to look so happy, huh?” He scowls. “It’s like Shirley’s got some kind of grudge.”
“If she holds a grudge about anything, it’s the incompetent men like Gump who keep getting voted in. And why do you care about any of this? You got your cash out. You don’t own the building anymore.”
“That’s not the point. I’m supposed to be moving to the other side of town.”
“You’re upset with me because people are upset with what you did.”
“Upset with me?” He throws a hand at the window. “Someone egged me last night and now it’s frozen to the glass. Do you know how hard it is to get frozen egg off glass?”
“I don’t, but I imagine it sucks.”
“I ran into Phyllis Kent at Weis the other day. She’s a longtime customer who’s been coming here since my grandfather was still running things, and she let me have it.”
I whistle. “She must be getting up there.”
“She’s ninety-four and needs a walker to get around, but she still comes in here every Tuesday afternoon to order pork schnitzel.” He shakes his head. “When she saw me at the grocery store, she flipped me the bird!”
A bark of laughter at the mental image escapes before I can help myself.
“Oh, that’s hilarious, is it?” Anger and frustration twist Todd’s features. “You know what? You’ll have to go somewhere else from now on. I don’t want your business anymore.”
My mouth hangs open as I watch him dump the soup back into the Crock-Pot and toss the bowl into the trash. Is he serious? “What is this, an episode of Seinfeld?”
“No, this is my life, and there’s nothing funny about what you’re doing to it.”
“I didn’t do this to you. You did this to yourself!”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He storms into the back, leaving me in shock in the quiet store.
Is that it?
Is our friendship over?
My stomach growls, as if voicing its displeasure for this unpleasant turn of events. I’ve been looking forward to this meal all morning.
I tend to do impulsive—dumb—things when I’m hungry.
And angry. I’m definitely that, even though shame lingers closely behind. Todd has always been good to me.
Stealing a quick look to where Todd disappeared, I round the counter, grab a fresh container, and ladle myself a bowl. Sealing it shut with a lid, I slap down a ten-dollar bill next to the cash register. It’s far too much, but I stop myself from going into the register for change. I do have some boundaries. I swipe a bag of pretzel buns to cover the balance instead and rush out the door.
Chapter Nine
A brisk wind cuts through my coat as I dart outside to toss trash in the dumpster, the last task before I lock up Murphy’s for the night. Ned’s gone home, and Dean is supposed to be here any second to pick up our new dishwasher.
“You make a lot of noise for someone so small.”
My head whips around at the sound of Garrett’s voice, and my heart skips a traitorous beat. It’s been weeks since our Route 66 run-in.
He’s perched in the driver’s seat of his SUV. One leg hangs out as if he paused halfway between either climbing in or climbing out, his dress pants hiked up to reveal a striped sock. The town paper is folded in his gloved grasp.
“Your building’s been getting a lot of press.” I can guess what page he’s on—the latest article featuring Yvonne and her sewing shop. She’s closing her doors to customers this Friday for the last time ever, and Colin made it sound like she was not doing it by choice.
