Page 105 of In Case You Didn't Know

And when I track them down, they’ll discover exactly what I do to people who break my trust.

twenty-nine

FRANCIE

I’m hunched over my laptop in the corner table at Mylene’s coffee shop, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I write the groveling scene, where my hero has to beg the heroine for forgiveness.

These are always my favorite parts. Mostly because I’ve noticed that in real life men so rarely grovel. They say ‘I’m sorry’ with a grunt. Or worse, a shrug. And what are we supposed to do, just melt?

Not in my books. Right now, the commander is bleeding and crawling in an attempt to show her how penitent he is. She won’t listen to him with her mind, so he’ll find a way to make her listen with her heart.

And I’m going to enjoy it all the way.

But just as I’m about to make him walk barefoot across a burning path, the door to the café flings open.

I look up, my eyes widening. Eileen is standing in the doorway, her expression full of fury. There’s a letter clutched in her hand. She’s holding it so tightly, her knuckles are as white as snow.

The entire coffee shop turns silent. Even the out-of-towners who are visiting for the day must sense there’s something very wrong, because their chatter dies down almost immediately. I look around, desperate for somebody I know to be in here, because this moment is… momentous. Seriously, the two of them have never been this close since forever.

Everybody on the island does their best to keep them apart. My heart starts to slam against my chest. Should I be recording this for Autumn? She’s going to be so pissed she’s missed it.

Eileen steps forward, her mouth pinched so tight it could slice through an iron girder. Without a word, she slams the letter down on the counter in front of Mylene.

“This,” she hisses, stabbing an accusing finger at the paper, “arrived in my mailbox this morning. Care to explain why the Better Business Bureau is investigating me for false advertising?”

Oh, this is just too delicious. I grab my phone and message Autumn, because I can’t go through this alone.

Eileen’s being investigated by the BBB. She just accused Mylene of reporting her. It’s high noon in Liberty. I can’t breathe! – Francie

“You started serving blueberry pancakes for breakfast,” Mylene says, as though it’s an everyday occurrence for her estranged twin of forty years to come into her coffee shop. “And claiming them as your secret recipe.”

Oh. My. God. I need pictures. Video. I can’t believe I’m missing this. – Autumn

“Who told you that?” Eileen asks. She looks suddenly shifty.

“I have my sources. And I know exactly what’s in those pancakes. That’s my recipe. You stole it.” Mylene calmly pours a latte, passing it to the unlucky customer at the counter.

“It was Mother’s recipe,” Eileen retorts. “And you accuse me of having rats in the kitchen.”

“It’s the truth. I’m looking at the rat.” Mylene wrinkles her nose like there’s a bad smell in the room.

Eileen’s shoulders square up.

“You’ve always been jealous of me. My success. You hate that my Tripadvisor reviews are higher than yours.” Eileen leans forward, her voice low and deadly. “You’re going to pay for this.”

“What are you going to do?” Mylene asks, looking amused. “Put a hex on me?”

“Are you calling me a witch?”

Mylene shrugs. “If the pointy black hat fits.”

Eileen lets out a low rumbling sound, suspiciously like a growl, then snatches up the letter. “This isn’t over,” she warns. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll regret the day you were born. Second, by the way.”

Before Mylene can think up a pithy retort, Eileen turns on her heel and flounces – as much as she can on her unsteady legs – out of the coffee shop, slamming the door closed behind her so hard the glass is in danger of shattering.

For a moment, nobody says a word. Then Mylene sighs and looks at the next customer. “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

My phone buzzes. Autumn again.