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mind not being spread so thin.” Josh and my sister had the same skewed sense of humor, one that I didn’t always get. They seemed to find the oddest things hilarious, leaving me in the dark about why some of the moments that sparked spontaneous laughter worked for them and not for me.
     
    Bob Lemon stuck his head into the kitchen an hour after we opened. “You doing okay?” he asked as I was making a specialty pizza–club sandwich.
    “I’m fine. How are you?”
    I’d already had four telephone calls and two visits, all with the express purpose of checking up on me. It was one of the good things about living in a small town, and one of the bad ones, too. Most folks knew what was going on before the newspaper printed it, and all in all, they were supportive of me, which was a nice feeling indeed, but sometimes it felt like we were all living just a little too close.
    “Oh, I’m just dandy, but then again, I didn’t get robbed last night,” he said.
    “Don’t feel left out. Maybe he’ll get around to you tonight.”
    Bob laughed. “Lawyers are notorious for not carrying much cash on them. I doubt I’d be worth the bother.”
    “You and I both know that, but does he?” I asked. I liked that Bob had allowed me to keep the conversation playful. There had been enough hand-wringing to suit me for a long time.
    “If he still comes after me, then I’ll have to overwhelm him with my skills,” Bob said.
    I looked him over. “Don’t tell me you’d challenge him with your fists.”
    Bob laughed at that. “Trust me, the last thing in the world you ever want to do is get into a fistfight with a lawyer.”
    “I didn’t realize attorneys were that tough.”
    “It’s not the fight that hurts, it’s the years you end up in court afterward being sued. No, my main talent is talking. I’d have him handing me his wallet before the whole thing was over.”
    “I don’t doubt that for an instant,” I said. I slid the sandwich I’d been preparing onto the conveyor, and then I asked, “Is there something I can get you?”
    “No, I already ate at my desk. I just came by to check on you.”
    I made a big checkmark in the air. “You can cross that off your list, then.”
    Maddy came back with an order, and then she said to Bob, “Don’t you have better things to do than harass my chef? We’re working here.”
    “Sorry,” Bob said, though it was clear he wasn’t remorseful at all. He glanced at our clock, then added, “I have to run, anyway. I’m due in court in seven minutes.”
    Since it was a brisk walk from the pizzeria, I knew he wouldn’t have any trouble making it in time. That was another good thing about living in Timber Ridge. Most places were just a stroll away.
    After he was gone, Maddy said, “Nancy Taylor and Emily Haynes both wanted me to tell you that they’re glad you’re okay.”
    Nancy was our postmistress, while Emily was Dr. Patrick’s dental hygienist.
    “You know,” Maddy said, “maybe it would be easier if you worked the front today and I made the food. It would save everyone a lot of trouble sending you messages through me.”
    “I probably should do exactly that,” I said as I wiped my hands on my apron. I knew my friends were there to support me, and it wasn’t fair of me to hide in my own kitchen, no matter how uncomfortable the attention they gave made me feel.
    “Funny, I was kind of hoping you’d say no,” Maddy said. My sister made it clear that she was most at ease working the front, though she was perfectly capable of preparing everything we offered on our menu. I’d made sure of it right after she’d come to work with me, and while I’d been grieving over losing Joe, Maddy had held the Slice together with all she had. It was something I would be forever grateful to her for doing.
    “I really don’t have much choice,” I said. “We’re both going to have to grin and bear it for now, aren’t we?”
    “I suppose,” she said as she put on her apron.
    I