“And you thought Phyllis would be fine here?” Alison asked in disbelief. “You remember her, right? Mean as a snake? Evil?”
“Actually, she was always very kind to me,” Emma said.
Of course. Because everyone loved Emma. Whatever.
“And anyway, we already have Miss Kitty, and I think she’s making us all scarves. And there’s Dale too. He loves hanging out with the animals, and the animals love him. I guess Cathy heard about it and—”
“Oh my God. Wildstone is worse than Mayberry when it comes to gossip.”
“What’s Mayberry?” Emma asked.
Alison shook her head. “Never mind. Please go on.”
“Okay, so Cathy heard about Dale and thought it’d be great for her mom too. She asked us if we minded.”
“Half of us mind. A lot.”
“Look, I’ll handle Phyllis,” Emma said. “All you’ve got to worry about is the business side of things. Oh and hey, how did it go with Ryan—who, by the way, looks at you like you’re lunch.”
Shit. She’d left him in the office. She pointed at Emma. “This isn’t over.”
“Never is.”
Shaking her head, Alison started to go back to Ryan, but stopped and turned back. “He looks at me like I’m lunch?”
“Yep. And dinner. And a midnight snack . . .”
Alison felt pleasure fill her, which she had to shake off because the office was empty. Ryan had left. Disappointment making her chest heavy, she walked to the front room and . . . found him talking with Cathy. It’d been like that when they’d dated too. Everywhere they went, he knew someone, and if he didn’t, he’d make a friend in two seconds. The man could chitchat with the devil himself. It’d driven her crazy, but watching him handle her “client” with an effortless ease did something deep inside her.
It warmed her. “Thanks,” she said to him meaningfully, putting her hand on his arm. His definitely solid arm. She ignored the inner quiver and smiled at Phyllis’s daughter. “We’ll see you after work.”
Cathy nearly sagged in relief. “Thank you.” She turned to Phyllis. “Mom? You behave, you hear me?”
“Bah humbug.”
“Mom.”
Phyllis ignored her.
Her daughter sighed, mouthed I’m sorry to Alison, and left.
Phyllis moved to the end of the counter where Khloe was stocking shelves. “You. Call me a car right away.”
Khloe blinked. “Uh . . .”
“Now, young lady.”
Nope. Not happening. Alison walked over there. Her first inclination was to get firm and possibly mean right back. But she remembered how Emma handled situations like this. And Ryan too. So she drew a deep breath and worked at imitating their techniques. “I’ve got this, Khloe, thank you.” She looked at Phyllis. “What’s the problem?”
Phyllis looked at her, mouth tight. “I’m leaving now.”
Alison looked into her blue rheumy eyes and realized Phyllis wasn’t angry, she was . . . scared. Anxious. Unnerved, and probably feeling alone.
Dammit. Alison’s chest squeezed hard enough to hurt, and she realized it was empathy. Phyllis was acting out because she didn’t know how else to handle herself. “I get it, you know,” Alison said quietly. “You’re in a new place, and nothing feels familiar, and you don’t know anyone.”
Phyllis looked away. Swallowed hard. “I miss Angel.”
“Angel?”
“My dog.”
Alison realized the older woman was looking at Hog with . . . longing? “Was Angel a big dog?”
“Big and sweet. He’d sit at my feet and sleep while I crocheted.” She patted the big shoulder bag she wore, like maybe she had her crocheting with her. “He’s gone now. Been five years. My daughter said I couldn’t replace him because he kept eating the furniture.”
This woman had made Alison’s life at the women’s center a living hell. She’d been mean, cranky, and demanding. And yet suddenly, Alison understood her on a core level. “Come with me,” she said and reached out her hand.
Phyllis slowly put her small, frail hand in Alison’s, and again her heart squeezed. Good God, this place was going to kill her. She walked Phyllis over to a chair near Miss Kitty. “Sit here.”
Phyllis sat. “Your music is too loud.”
Actually, that was true. “I’ll turn it down,” she said. “Hog?”
Hog came close. He lifted his big old head and took in Phyllis. He seemed to smile, and then he lay down at the old woman’s feet.
Phyllis gasped in delight, even as her eyes went misty. Very slowly, as if she ached from head to toe, she leaned down—she didn’t have to lean far—and stroked a hand down Hog’s back.
Hog made a sound that if he’d been a cat would’ve been a purr of contentment. Phyllis pulled out her crocheting.
Miss Kitty tsked and gestured with her knitting needles, clearly saying knitting was superior.
“What did she say?” Phyllis asked.
“That you have great taste in yarn,” Alison said.
Miss Kitty rolled her eyes.
“You good?” Alison asked.
“I need tea. Hot. But not too hot.”
Alison could feel a headache coming on. She rubbed the spot between her eyes but nodded. “Sure thing.”
“From Starbucks. The peach kind.”
Yep, definitely a headache. Alison pulled out her phone and brought up her Starbucks app.
“No added sugar. Gives me the runs.”
“No added sugar,” Alison said firmly, making the order.
“I know who you are, you know,” Phyllis said when Alison was done.
Oh boy. “And I know who you are.”
Phyllis eyed her warily. “You going to call my daughter to tell her I’m a menace and that she should come get me?”
Alison looked into the elderly woman’s eyes and saw resigned expectation. And . . . sadness. She let out a long breath. “Is that what happened at the library?”
“And at my son-in-law’s work. The old folks’ home too, although to be honest, I tried to get kicked out of there. It didn’t smell so good. Plus, everyone was dying.” She paused. “I have a house only a mile or so from here. But my daughter and son-in-law came to live with me when they lost theirs. Now they want me out of the house every day. My house.”
Damn. Another pinch on Alison’s heart. She had no idea how many more she could take. “Is it maybe because you’re grumpy?”
Phyllis shocked her by laughing. “You know, you remind me of someone.”
“A saint?”
“Myself, when I was your age.”
Sounded about right. “Look, no one’s going to call you a menace or kick you out of here,” Alison said.
“Of course not.” This was from Dale, who’d moved close, dragging a chair over for himself. “Plus, they need us,” he told Phyllis in a conspirator’s voice. “The new owners are wonderful, but they don’t know much.”
“Hey,” Alison said on principle.
Ignoring that, Dale smiled at Phyllis. “They think we’re guests, but the truth is, we’re working. We’re soothing their animals. They need us.”