CHAPTER 10
Charlie, the barrel-chested older man who runs the general store, frowns at the pile of groceries I place beside his register, then back up at me.
“Is Meemaw all right?” he asks. “I thought she was making you and Waylon Belgian waffles for your breakfast date this morning. Lucinda came in here special yesterday for bacon.”
Wow. Does everybody in this start-up town know everybody’s business?
“I decided not to play their little game anymore,” I answer between clenched teeth. “Can you just ring me up?”
Charlie snaps a brown paper bag open and begins to put my stuff inside it. But he gives my perishable items the stink eye: fruit, a ton of frozen dinners, bagels, and some cream cheese I scored from the store’s large but single refrigerator.
“Bagels!” he spits out like I’ve inc
