Page 15 of The Best Friend Power Play

"No. I'm not. I spoke to you not less than twenty-four hours ago right in this very same spot, when you said you didn't know what you'd do with yourself if?—"

"Is the Festival of Living Pictures happening this year?" she asks over him, which is impressive since Doyle is a hard man to speak over.

"It is. Middle of August." He carefully places the mushrooms into the brown paper bag and then looks up at me. "We'd love it if you could come. Or, better yet, participate."

"Sure. I'll have to make sure I don't have training. Otherwise, I'm in."

"Wonderful."

Hannah clears her throat.

"Yes, yes, you can participate, too." Doyle turns to her and forces a smile. "But if you're busy, I understand."

"I'll have to double check, too, since my schedule is filled with all sorts of important things, but I'd love a chance to?—"

Doyle's expression sours. "Make up for what you did?"

Oh, no. Not this again.

I exhale loudly. "Doyle, it happened three years ago. Are you still not over it?"

"She flinched!" he cries, loud enough for everyone in the store to hear, waving a bunch of cilantro at us.

"Put the herbs down," I reason. "And lower your voice, please."

Hannah straightens. "Also, for the record. I did not flinch."

"You did. Mrs. Walsh saw you."

"My nose was itchy. What was I supposed to do?"

"Aha! So you admit it."

"Doyle. Hannah. We're all adults here. We cannot seriously be arguing about Hannah's nose possibly moving three years ago."

Doyle bristles. "I'm sorry if this seems trivial to you, Culver. But some of us take pride in our artistic performances."

I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. "You recreate artwork by standing still. I didn't realize that being motionless qualified as an artistic performance."

"You realize you just totally dissed every single housewife across every single Housewives franchise," Hannah whispers to me, and I do my best not to laugh and irritate Doyle even more.

"What did she say?" More accusatory cilantro waving. "Did she just admit it?"

"I admit to nothing," Hannah remarks with a cheerful smile, clearly enjoying teasing Doyle.

Admittedly, everyone enjoys teasing Doyle.

In a town filled with busybodies, he's the busiest body of them all. In addition to running the grocery store, he's also the town selectman and the self-appointed overseer of nearly everything that happens in Comfort Bay. His heart is usually in the right place, but he can be too controlling at times.

And by at times, I mean, all the time.

He finishes ringing up our groceries and announces the total.

I pull out my wallet.

Hannah reaches for her purse.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

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