Page 32 of Building What's Meant to Be

Rhondy clears some plates. She eyes my barely touched sandwich. “You’ll want that later.”

I shrug. My stomach is in such tight knots, I can’t tell if I’m starved or overrun with nerves. Both?

“Can I get anyone else pie?”

“Do you have to ask?” Louella Belle says.

When we came over here from the police station, Camellia walked beside me and talked about the weather. At first, I worried it was a trap and these women were going to snap photos and slander me all over the social media apps—I’ve caught glimpses since having my phone back, primarily while Aiden was talking to everyone in front of the jail. Then I figured, I was already arrested today, am ostensibly homeless, and carless. I wondered can it get much worse. Yep, they sell pie. And Aiden’s slice of peach with ice cream looked like something sent from heaven on a white platter.

Despite the apologies, I’m worried that I’ll get a pie in the face. I get the sense that Aiden’s sisters don’t like me despite my apology so I pass on the slice.

“You remind me of Christina when she first wandered into the diner,” Rhondy says.

Christina nods in agreement. “You won’t last long, Tinsley.”

I just barely stifle my gasp. I thought she tolerated me. Maybe she’s a Puma Palmer fan and thinks, like so many do, that I’m the reason he got in trouble. It wouldn’t take much effort forthe social media trolls to dig into what happened and discover that I had nothing to do with his arrest, but I’m somehow implicated because there are photos of me online leaving the Malibu house. It wasn’t even his residence!

Christina’s voice comes to me as she describes baked goods from cookies to brownies to chocolates to pies—all reasons I won’t last long. “Rhondy is the very best baker. I’m telling you, it won’t be long until you break and give in, begging for a slice of her apple pie. That’s the gateway pie.”

Rhondy winks. “When she’s ready.”

I am ready for a nap. Anywhere to rest my head. I discretely hold out my credit card for Rhondy to take. “I’d like to cover the bill.”

She smiles. “That’s mighty kind of you.”

Bess sits next to me reading the Butterbury Bugle—the local newspaper. The headline readsSuspect Apprehended in Cat-Napping. The words blur and then double.

Yep, I really need to find a place to stay. I’m about to ask if there are hotels nearby when Rhondy returns and discretely slides my credit card into my hand. She whispers, “I’m sorry, sweetie. It was declined.”

“Could you try again?” I ask without moving my lips.

“I tried the maximum number of times.”

I thought the trouble at the gas station was a fluke. Heat creeps across my cheeks. Did my parents cancel my credit card? I didn’t look at the bill, but I imagine it’s more than one hundred dollars. If the cards don’t work, my emergency Benjamin is all I have. I dig into my purse and pass it to Rhondy. “I doubt this will cover it, but I can pay the rest back.”

Like a high roller, Aiden slides two one hundred dollar bills into her hand. “That should do it, right?”

“I want to pay.”

“Next time,” he says.

If I weren’t surrounded by veritable strangers, I’d hang my head in my hands. I don’t know what I’m going to do. On top of being homeless, carless, and jobless, now I have no money.

Bess turns the page in the newspaper.

“Is there a classifieds section with apartment options or rentals?” I ask.

“As great as this town is, it’s slim pickings in Butterbury.”

“We’d offer you a place at the bed and breakfast, but we’re booked for a wedding,” Camellia says.

Bess scans the section. “Nope. Not one rental except the one that resulted in a flood and me dumping water on the mayor from the second-floor window.”

Everyone laughs as they recount the story.

“I’ll take it.”

“There are cockroaches,” Cassian says. “I saw one when I was looking under the sink.”

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