“Excuse me?” Heather recovered from her momentary inability to process oxygen.
“He’s a great guy and he really likes you. Whatever happened between you, we’re hoping you’ll hear him out.” Anna shifted the purse strap on her shoulder and dropped it to the counter.
“You’re both here.” Heather pointed at them. “To get me.” She pointed to her chest. “To get back together with Jase?” She pointed toward the flower shop across the street.
They had to be kidding.
“After you took out my van because he’d told you we’d broken up,” Heather said with a firm look at Jase’s grandmother.
“I have apologized. You vill call me Babushka and I vill cook for you,” Babushka announced. “When you have dinner vith him.”
The younger woman nudged Babushka. “That’d be weird. They can go wherever. Even here.”
“And that wouldn’t be weird?” Heather asked.
“Wherever you’re comfortable.” Anna leaned forward and whispered as if she were selling government secrets to Russian spies. “Just, you know, communication is a good thing.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Heather made a sound in her throat—half clearing, half breathing. “But thanks for stopping in. Would you like to buy a cookie?”
“For sure. We’ll take a dozen of whatever,” Anna replied.
Heather started filling a box with snuggle birds. She made the mistake of glancing up at Anna.
Anna, who was chewing at her bottom lip. “Jase could just use a break, that’s all.”
“Hey, Anna,” Velma said as she pushed through the doors behind Heather.
“Oh, Velma, good, you’re here, too,” Anna said, relief in her tone. “We’re trying to get Heather to give Jase another chance.”
“Oh, I don’t think—” Velma started.
“What. The. Hell,” Jase said from the doorway. Red-faced, out-of-breath Jase.
Heather’s jingle bells hadn’t even jingled.
“Your family is trying to convince me to take you back.” Heather held up the cookie tongs and pointed at his sister and grandmother with them.
“All the Dvornakovs out of the shop,” he demanded.
“Hey, now. Not until they’ve got their cookies,” Heather said. Hey, a sale was a sale.
“No cookies. Out you two.” He pointed toward the door.
“They’re customers. They’re buying things. If you have a problem, address it with management. In writing.” Heather went back to boxing cookies.
“You own this place,” he said, biting out the words.
“Then perhaps you should mail me a letter.” Heather squared her shoulders.
A muscle in Jase’s forehead twitched, or maybe it was a blood vessel.
“You can’t throw out my customers.” Heather continued loading the box. “Especially when they’re in the middle of buying things. Once the transaction is through, you can take your family wherever you’d like.”
“Holy hell.” Anna glanced between the two of them. “She’s perfect.”
The tension in the room notched higher; even the cashier stopped mid-button-punch to watch.
“You two should talk privately. I vill run the counter.” Babushka shuffled around the pastry case. “I vill need an apron.”
