A shiver went through me as I recalled the sound of Tony’s gun. Two shots. The Captain had also been shot twice. Could this house be a vortex of violence? Would I never be free of the shadow of death? I shook myself. It wasn’t that bad. It seemed so right now, but we’d recover. The story would fade, and the tearoom I’d worked so hard to establish would go on. It had to. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if the tearoom failed. I’d be in debt forever. I’d have to sell the house and get a job, probably as a teacher. I dreaded having to deal with the current school system. The mere thought nudged me closer to depression. Kris came in with the bank bag. “Saturday was a good day,” she said. “Good. Have we had cancellations?” “A few.” I nodded. “Not surprising. I just hope it doesn’t turn into an avalanche.”
