“Hi, Evie,” she said, giving me a hug.

“Hi, Pammy.”

She pulled away from the dogs. They appeared a little offended by her poor manners. I suddenly felt like eating microwave popcorn. Extra butter. That would be so good. Ice cream and buttery popcorn are perfect together. A lot of people don’t know that.

Pammy sneezed, then coughed. “I’m sorry. I’m allergic to dogs.”

“I know, Pammy. I know.”

We chatted for a while about everything, about nothing. I liked Pammy a lot.

She sniffled, blew her nose. “Bye, Evie. You’re coming to Melissa’s shower, right? Saturday?”

“Yes, we’ll be there.” Melissa was a classmate of ours. She had invited me, my mother, and my aunts to a bridal shower. She had promised “lots of wine. My new mother-in-law, the old jackhammer herself, will be there. I’ll need to be drunk. Get drunk with me.”

The girls turned around to glare at me, but smiles broke through.

Kimberly whispered, “I’m still mad about the doggy.”

“Me too,” Kaitlyn said.

I didn’t take offense. They were simply blaming the messenger who had denied them doggies.

“I’ve had worse glares than that,” I said.

They both started giggling.

“But you are a witch,” Kimberly said. “I know that.”

“A nice witch,” Kaitlyn said.

Pammy, honking loudly, blew her nose.

I was right about the dogs, that was for sure.

* * *

“You’re scaring me.”

“How on earth can I be scaring you? I’m simply trying to help you find books that are not violent. The books that you’ve always read are all gruesomely violent.” It was Monday, and the bookstore was full. Probably because I put a sign on the door about the Dark Chocolate Honeycomb cake we were selling, which is like eating heaven. “Be sweet! Come on in and eat!” I also had my tea specials up: Rose Hip and Passion Flower.

“But I like reading about violence.”

“You should open your mind to something new.” This woman! Geez!

“Why?”

“So that you can learn about other people and their lives. You can read a memoir and see life through someone else. You can read a biography and learn about someone who changed the world. You can read fiction or fantasy or science fiction and be swept away to a whole new time and place.”

“I don’t like being swept away.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I like to read about true life crimes.”

“So I can’t show you any other books?” I was exasperated.

“I’ll make you a deal, Evie. You can show me other books once you show me the new crime books you have in.”

“I’m feeling frustrated,” I said to her.

“Many crimes are committed when people have pent-up frustration and rage. They often hate themselves. Or they are sociopaths or psychopaths. That’s who I like to read about.”