Not So New in Town Read Online Free PDF Page B

leaving. She missed you something fierce.”
    Brogan’s jaw locked. He missed his mom, too. But she hadn’t died of a broken heart like everyone yammered on about. She’d had a major stroke and hadn’t lingered very long. Charlotte Reese had been a strong woman, always encouraging Brogan to expand his horizons, and he’d done that by attending and working his way through Georgetown before he’d started his own business.
    “And I miss her, but my mom encouraged me to leave, and I appreciated her advice,” he said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. Truth be told, he couldn’t wait to leave. He’d had no intentions of settling in Harmony, and even though he never spoke the words, his mother had known.
    Ethel nodded. “You were always a good boy when it came to your mama.”
    Brogan wanted to bang his head against the brick column. She’d just told him he’d broken his mother’s heart. He couldn’t win this battle.
    She patted his arm with her gnarled hand. “Not sure about all the shenanigans going on with the young ladies in town, but I know you loved your mama,” she said, thin lips forming a smile. “I’ll let you know about these popped things”—she jiggled the bag of chips—“but I’d sure like to find some pork rinds. You let me know if you get any in, ya hear.”
    “Will do. Good to see you.” Brogan held the door as she shuffled out with her walker.
    Javier had finished his beer and was loading up on cheese, crackers, and specialty olives as he browsed the aisles. But Brogan knew Javier had heard every last word, and he needed to prepare for the next inquisition.
    Before the door had fully closed, it swung back open, and Dottie Duncan barreled in along with another blast of hot July air.
    “Hey, Miz Duncan. What can I do for you?”
    Dottie crossed her arms beneath her massive chest and cocked one hip as she tapped her red, white, and blue cowboy boot on his repurposed wood floor. “You selling ciggies?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “Chew tobaccie?”
    “Nope.”
    “RC Colas and MoonPies?”
    “No.”
    “Cheerwine and four-cornered Nabs?”
    “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
    “Good. Then I don’t see any problems.” She lowered her arms and straightened the form-fitting red top with sequined blue stars that matched the blue eye shadow from the bottom of her penciled-in eyebrows to the end of her eyelids. Not to be outdone by the black eyeliner and ruby-red lipstick. But for all of Dottie’s wacky taste in fashion, she was probably the richest woman in town. She owned sixteen Toot-N-Tells across the state. Drive-through convenience stores, selling all kinds of garbage, including Lucy’s favorite, Cheetos, by the truckloads.
    “No, ma’am. We shouldn’t have a problem. I sell mostly organic items not sold anywhere nearby. The closest competitor is Whole Foods in Raleigh.”
    Dottie reached with bedazzling long red nails for a cellophane bag of his special granola. “People actually eat this…stuff?” She held it between two fingers, away from her body, as if she were holding a bag of fresh dog shit.
    “Yes. I’ve managed to open four stores based on that granola alone,” Brogan said, not bothering to rein in his pride.
    “Umph. Looks suspicious. Any funny stuff in there?”
    “Funny stuff?”
    “You know, like pot?” Laughter erupted down aisle five. Javier would have a field day with this. “Mind-altering things. You’re not making this stuff”—she gave the granola a vicious shake—“with any of those druggy herbs, are you?”
    “Miz Duncan—”
    “Call me Dottie. Miz Duncan reminds me of my mother-in-law, that meddling, cantankerous hag.”
    “Er, Dottie, there’s nothing but healthy caramelized oats, nuts, and dried fruit in my granola. Tastes great. Try some.”
    She turned the bag over. “Seven ninety-five! Hell, you can buy two bags of groceries for that at the Toot-N-Tell.”
    Define groceries.
    “Hmmm, I don’t know,” she added. “You ever run