While Wendy helped another customer, I drooled on the pastry case, as if there were any doubt what I’d order. “Double shot, pain au chocolat,” I said when it was my turn. “Any interest in a cat? I’ve got Christine’s tabby, and she and my guy don’t get along.” Wendy shot me a look like I’d suggested she chop off a finger, then rammed the coffee holder thingy into place and reached for the milk. Black gold—espresso—dripped into the shot glass. “Can you ask your staff? She’s quite sweet.” The door flew open and Sally barged in. The bakery was the one place where I’d never heard her complain about the cost of things. We all have our priorities. “It’s been a week and they haven’t arrested anyone.” She barked at Wendy as if I weren’t there. As if she hadn’t been pointing a finger at my own brother. “I don’t know what that Kim Caldwell does all day, up in that office of hers.
