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pants.
    Skye rushed to her cousin’s side and put her arms around her. “What’s going on?”
    Gillian sagged against Skye and sobbed, “That monster stole the bread right from my hand.”
    Skye tried to soothe her cousin. “That’s awful. If brains were chocolate, he wouldn’t have enough to fill an M&M.”
    Gillian sniffled. “Go say something to him.”
    “That’s not a good idea.” Skye attempted a little humor. “After all, I can’t have a battle of wits with an unarmed man.” She patted her cousin’s shoulder. “Besides, the store will get more bread tomorrow.”
    “But Irvin wants French toast for lunch today.” Gillian hiccupped. “And they’re predicting more snow. We might not get more food for days.”
    Skye bit her lip. She was getting along better with her cousins than she had since she was a teenager, which meant she couldn’t tell Gillian what Irvin could do with his yen for French toast. Instead she said, “Well, let’s see what’s left.”
    The two women turned to face the nearly empty shelves. Skye, being close to seven inches taller than her cousin’s five-foot height, spotted a package of hamburger buns shoved to the back of the top shelf. She snagged it and put it into Gillian’s cart.
    “What am I supposed to do with that?” Gillian frowned.
    “Use it in my mom’s recipe for Puffy French Toast. It’ll work fine.”
    “Irvin doesn’t like me to try new recipes.”
    Skye counted to ten. “Okay, I’ll take the buns. Why don’t you call your mom or my mom or your sister and see if one of them has any bread in the freezer?”
    “Hey, that’s a good idea. Mom always keeps a couple of emergency loafs.”
    Skye gave Gillian a quick hug. “You okay now?”
    The blonde nodded.
    “I’ve got to run. Dad’s waiting in the truck.” As Skye made her way through the store, she managed to scoop up afew items, but tempers were short. She didn’t feel well enough to fight for food, so she gave up and headed toward the front to pay for what she had. When she joined the checkout line, she heard more raised voices.
    “What do you mean, I can’t write a check? I’ve been writing checks here for ten years.” The speaker was Theresa Dugan, a well-dressed, attractive woman in her early thirties.
    Theresa was a teacher at the elementary school, and Skye and Simon were on a bowling team with her and her husband on Friday nights.
    The cashier’s face was impassive. “Sorry. Walter said cash only today.”
    “Then I’d like to speak to Walter, please.” Theresa’s voice was pleasant but firm.
    “Sorry, he’s not available.” The teenager behind the register popped her gum.
    “Hey, lady, either pay or get out of the way.” The same man who had stolen Gillian’s bread was in line between Skye and Theresa. He looked familiar, but Skye couldn’t remember where she had seen him before today. He said to the cashier, “I’ve got cash, and I’ll take her stuff.”
    Skye rapidly counted the money in her wallet. She had forty-two dollars, more cash than usual. She took a quick total of her own meager purchases; they should run about fifteen dollars.
    “Theresa.” Skye raised her voice over the man bellowing in front of her. “Would twenty-seven dollars help?”
    The woman turned toward Skye with a puzzled look in her brown eyes. “Oh, Skye, I didn’t see you there,” Theresa apologized. “Are you sure, about the money I mean? That, along with what I have, should just about cover it. I’ll pay you back Friday.”
    “Sure, no problem.” Skye handed the bills to her.
    The man swore, and shot Skye a malevolent glare.
    After Jabba the Hutt checked out and Skye was payingfor her groceries, she said to the checker, “Do you know who that guy was that just left?”
    The teen popped another bubble. “Yeah, that’s Nathan’s dad.”
    “Nathan who?”
    “Nathan Turner.”
    Ah. Now Skye remembered where she’d seen him before. He was a member of the GUMBs. Although he didn’t