"Janey," she said.
This was not happening.
"Oh, Janey, no. No, no, no. You did not leave my phone in Mr. V's shop where any terrorist could find it."
"Cook, I never said they were terrorists," I said as I patted my back pockets. My fingers touched something square, and I almost fell to the ground in relief. But I'd already done that today, and once was good enough for me. I grinned.
"Oh, thank God," Cookie said.
I pulled it out and handed it to her, pretending not to notice the shattered screen.
"Oh," she said.
"I bet a little shipping tape will fix that right up. You'll hardly be able to tell."
She tried to stop a giggle from escaping and ended up snorting in the process.
"I'm sorry, Cook."
"Janey, do you think I care?"
"Yes."
"Well, you're right, but not at the expense of your safety. It broke your fall."
"That was my face."
"Was any of that worth the effort?"
I told Cookie what I'd found as we headed to the door and opened it to a sea of heads.
Dixie stood on the other side. Along with Reyes, Bobert, Garrett, Lewis, and Sumi, though I could only see the top of her head. They were all packed into the tin-can hallway like sardines. Osh was there, too, but he stood back a little, wearing his signature smirk. He would be the smartass sardine.
"Could you two be any louder?" Dixie asked.
"We could try," I said, my brows scrunched together with worry. "This was my fault. Cookie had nothing to do with it."
Cookie stood behind me, biting her bottom lip. "Yes, I did. It was my idea."
"It so was not."
"Was too."
I glared at her. "Cook -"
"What on God's green earth?" Dixie had spotted the ceiling. She stepped inside.
"It just fell," Cookie said. "It was crazy."
Dixie turned back to … Reyes? An accusing expression on her face. An expectant one.
He nodded, and she brightened. Like surface-of-the-sun bright. "No harm, no foul," she said, ushering us out. "That happens all the time. We'll get it fixed in no time. Herb Wassermann. Best handyman in town."
Cookie and I exchanged confused glances.
Wait. No we didn't. I exchanged a confused glance. Cookie didn't seem surprised in the least. Relieved, but not surprised.
"So weird how that happens," she said to Dixie.
Dixie nodded. "Water damage from the storm back in '22."
As in 1922?
"You mean '82?" Bobert asked.
"Yes." Dixie chuckled. "Sorry. Get my decades mixed up all the time. Back to work, girls. Place is hoppin'."
She practically pushed Cookie and me into the café. Everyone else either went back to work or sat back down. We were thoroughly glared at by Erin and Francie. Apparently they'd been handling the lunch crowd on their own and were none too happy about it.
I pocketed the keys I'd lifted while in the storeroom and went back to work. Dixie was right. The place was definitely hoppin'.
My first stop was a table with a single white female. Probably here for dinner and the show. If Reyes would learn to strip, we'd be set for life.
"Hey, hon. Can I get you something to drink?"
She glanced up at me, the barest hint of recognition flashing across her face, but only for a second. I'd learned not to get my hopes up. Everyone who'd seen me on the news thought I looked familiar.
"Hi," she said, giving me a quick once-over. She had a short brown bob and a pretty oval face, but the navy power suit said it all. She was someone important. Or she could have made paper airplanes for a living. Didn't matter. With that suit on, she could convince anyone of anything.
"Love the suit," I said. "Can I get you something to drink?"
She offered me an appreciative half smile, but what I felt from her was more like … relief? "I'd love water for now. And coffee."
"A girl after my own heart."
Before I left the table, the blond woman I'd met a day earlier walked in – or, well, stumbled in – and sat at the table across from my customer. I could only hope they knew each other.
"Hi again," the blonde said. Her hair was a bit wild and her cheeks bright pink. "Some weather, huh?"
"Yes, it is. Are you having a good vacation?"
"This is Kit," she said in lieu of an answer.
I stuck out my hand with a chuckle. "Hi, Kit."
"I'm Gemma."
"I remember." Clearly Gemma had issues. "Can I get you something to drink?"