Outside, she noticed several shops were open, and she spent the next hour moving from window to window. Lots of cool stuff. Her former self would have whipped out the credit card and bought a few things. But debt, like the drugs, always took more than it gave.

She slipped into Thompson’s grocery store. Jordan had been here shortly before her attack and had picked up the best roasted potatoes. Avery might not be willing to splurge on a new blouse, but good food was always worth it.

At the back deli, she waited in line until her number came up. Mr. Rawlings smiled at her from behind the counter. “Avery, how are you? Haven’t seen you at the food bank lately.”

The food bank had been a staple for her when she was trying to get back on her feet. “Been working steady and making enough money.”

“Good to hear it. How is your sister? You and your sister are my two favorite customers.”

“You’re our favorite takeout.”

“I saw in the news that Jordan was injured.”

“She’s out of the hospital and home. Doing well.”

“Great.”

He leaned forward on the counter, the muscles of his thick arms straining the sleeves of his short-sleeved T-shirt. “What can I get you?”

She chose the macaroni and barbecue. Not healthy by just about any standard but the kind of comfort food that made life better.

He ladled double helpings into the take-out container. “Thanks for shopping Thompson’s,” Mr. Rawlings said.

“I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed a few paper napkins and plastic forks. Maybe she could talk Jordan into a field trip to a park.

He wiped his large hands on his white butcher’s apron. “You’re always welcome.”

At the front register, when she looked up from her wallet, the kid was staring at her. “No charge.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Says no charge.”

She put her credit card back in her wallet. “Thank you.”

“You work in the café, don’t you?” the guy asked.

“I do.”

“I always get a black coffee with a blueberry muffin.”

“I remember,” she said. “Take care, Mr. Black Coffee.”

Grinning, he handed over her bagged meal. “Come back.”

“Of course.”

She left the shop and checked her time. It was after noon. As she headed back toward the café, she saw an SUV pull up. Jordan got out, cane in hand.

As tempted as Avery was to rush toward her, she hesitated.

Jordan tapped her cane awkwardly from side to side, and when a door opened to her right, she moved toward it. She stepped inside the dress shop, and Avery wondered why she had chosen a store filled with pastels and monogrammed bags.

Seconds later, Jordan reappeared with a young clerk, who walked her up to the entrance of the café. Jordan’s tight smile telegraphed her frustration.