Fireside Flavors smelled like cinnamon, fresh coffee, and a hint of gunpowder residue.
Maggie lit one of her signature cinnamon roll candles anyway, though it didn't quite smother the weight in the air. The place wasn't open to the public yet—it was still early morning—but she'd unlocked the door, turned on every light, and made a triple batch of baked goods like muscle memory was the only thing keeping her upright.
Madeline sat at the window booth, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn't sipped from. She was wearing Maggie's oversized Don't Ask, Just Eat hoodie and still hadn't let herself relax. Claire leaned against the counter, arms crossed, silent and statuesque, like someone had carved her out of marble and grief.
Norma arrived last, in a leopard print tracksuit with a shotgun in th
