only for women like Candi. “My cell number is on there. You can call me anytime.”
Candi studied the card as if Alexis had just handed her a one-hundred-dollar bill.
“I know how hard this is,” Alexis said. “It’s a suffocating secret to keep.”
“I—I do need to talk to you.”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
But then a screeching voice interrupted. “Excuse me, but I have a bone to pick with you.”
Candi’s eyes widened as she turned to look over her shoulder to watch Alexis’s nemesis storm up the front sidewalk and march to the table.
Alexis tried to keep her voice calm. “I’m sorry, Karen. I’m in the middle of something. Can it wait?”
“It absolutely cannot.”
And just like that, Candi blanched, shot to her feet, and stumbled backward. “I—I can come back.”
“Candi, wait.” Alexis tried to reach for the girl’s arm to stop her from fleeing, but Candi slipped from her grasp and disappeared down the sidewalk.
Alexis gathered the dirty plate and coffee mug and stood. Ignoring Karen, she turned toward the door, walked inside, and approached the counter. She set the dirty dishes into a plastic bin beneath the counter and wiped her hands on the towel tucked into her apron before turning to face Karen again. “Something I can help you with today?”
“You haven’t been exactly helpful before, so I seriously doubt it,” Karen responded.
Alexis forced her muscles into some semblance of a smile. “I’m sorry to hear our previous encounters haven’t been satisfactory to you. Would you like to sit and talk? I can make you a cup of tea on the house.”
“I wouldn’t eat in here if you paid me.”
“Then how can I help you?” Her attempt to remain calm wasn’t for Karen’s benefit. It was for her own. If she’d learned anything in the past eighteen months, it was that people were going to believe what they wanted, and few of them were worth the emotional effort it took to try to change their minds. Besides, Alexis was used to dealing with Karen Murray. The owner of the antiques shop across the street had been a thorn in Alexis’s side since the day she’d come forward with her accusation against Royce. Karen had never even spoken to Alexis before then, but now her complaints were a weekly annoyance.
Karen whipped an overstuffed baggie from her purse. “You can help me with this.”
She dropped the baggie on the counter, and Jessica leaped back with a screech as its contents became clear. Two tiny dead eyes stared out through the plastic in a silent plea from what had once been a rat in life.
Alexis stepped closer and lifted the baggie by one corner. “I appreciate the gift, Karen, but I’m a vegetarian.”
“Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it?” Karen hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder. “That thing was left on the welcome mat outside my store this morning.”
Alexis dumped the baggie in the trash can beneath the counter. As soon as Karen left, she’d have to empty it and hose the counter down with bleach. “I’m not following,” she said. “Why is that rat my fault?”
“Because your cat left it there!” She said that part with a disdainful point and glare at Beefcake, the rescue Maine coon who was sound asleep on the cat tree by the window.
Alexis forced her lips into a smile. “Karen, there is no way Beefcake did this. He goes home with me every night, and he has been inside since we arrived this morning.”
Jessica began squirting the glass countertop with industrial cleaner. Karen took a massive step backward, her purse clutched tightly against her stomach. “You know, it was bad enough when we only had to put up with your weekly cat adoption events, but now we have to put up with this too?”
Karen waved her hand toward the dining area, gesturing at the tables full of women who were deep in conversation—some gleefully, others tearfully.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Alexis said. “You’re mad that I have a lot of customers?”
“These women aren’t just customers.”
“They all buy food. They look like customers to me.”
“You know what I mean. These women fill up the parking lot and never visit any of the other stores on the block. It’s not fair that you take up all the prime parking spots for your little crusade.”
Alexis crossed her arms. “By crusade, I assume you’re referring to my attempt to offer a supportive, judgment-free environment to women who are survivors of sexual assault and harassment?”
Karen rolled her eyes, which said more than