27 WinnieSince nine o’clock, Winnie had sold coffee only to a skinny gray-headed woman wearing flip flops and a rain-spattered red muumuu patterned with palm trees. The customer was hiding a shorthaired dog in a big straw tote bag.
Winnie guessed Muumuu and her pet were lingering indoors to escape the thunderstorm lashing the sidewalk beyond the big window. Outside, the stormy darkness was impenetrable, turning the glass black. Beyond the parking lot, she could see nothing.
Of course, the way the place was lit up inside, anyone passing could watch her and her customer as if they were on TV. Without thinking, her fingers went to the hem of her hot pink tunic, ready to straighten the polyester fabric so it didn’t bag out over her white stretch jeans.
She dropped her hands. The billowy tun
