He’d always been struggling to keep his weight up during his playing days, aiming for two hundred pounds. Consuming several thousand calories a day helped, and there was a limit to how many of those calories he could devour in the form of meat, dairy, fruits and veggies. So he’d paid frequent visits to the bakery on Seaview Avenue, where he’d pigged out on slices of anise pound cake and chocolate-chip biscotti. Today, as he cruised down Seaview Avenue in a nostalgia-fueled detour, he discovered that the Torelli’s sign above the door had been replaced by a large white rectangle featuring the word COOKIE’S in black-rimmed red letters, the word’s two O’s depicted by round chocolate-chip cookies. Maeve Nolan had told him she would be opening a cookie store. Here was a store called Cookie’s. Quinn eased his battered old Honda into the nearest parking space and got out to investigate. The place didn’t seem to be open for business yet, but when he tried the door, it swung inward, causing a bell above the door to ring.
