“She did.” Jana’s gaze flicked to a new-looking purple handbag on the table.

“It was one of a kind,” Vanessa piped up. “A Tonya Hawkes original.”

Camille kept her expression neutral. “The new one looks really nice, Jana.”

“But it’s not the same,” Vanessa pointed out.

“No, it’s not.” Camille set down her stack of books, pressed her palms on the table, and leaned forward, speaking more quietly than ever. “Julie didn’t want me to say anything to you, because she thinks you’ll make things even worse for her, but I’m sure you would never do such a thing. I want you to know that your campaign against her is going to stop.”

“I don’t know what she told you, but there’s no campaign.” Vanessa’s cheeks turned an angry shade of red.

Right, thought Camille. “Good to know,” she said. “In that case, I don’t have to worry about any backlash against Julie, do I?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her books and carried them to the front desk. As she fished out her library card, she realized the volunteer at the desk was Trudy Jacobs.

Could this day get any better?

“Hey, Trudy.”

“Hello, Camille.” Trudy always seemed to look like a mom on a TV show—the outfit, the makeup, the manicure, the hair.

“I just saw Jana, and I let her know Julie and I both feel awful about her bag.”

Trudy swiped her card and handed it back to her. “Jana was really upset about it. She’s not used to being picked on.”

Picked on? Oh, sure. “Julie has apologized,” Camille said. “I’m sure they’ll both feel better once they put this behind them.”

Trudy pursed her lips as she scanned each of Camille’s books. Camille could tell the moment Trudy perused the titles, because her lips pursed even tighter. Don’t you dare say anything, Camille thought.

Trudy didn’t say anything. Library volunteers were trained not to comment on a patron’s selections. But her expression was ice cold as she handed the stack of books to Camille. “Good luck with all that,” she said.

“So what did I do?” Camille asked her mother and sister at their next Monday meeting. They were having their flat whites and lemon scones at an outside table to enjoy the brilliant summer morning. “I did exactly what Julie asked me not to do—I told those girls to back the hell off.”

“Well, of course you did.” Cherisse broke a scone in half. “You’re doing your job as a mother.”

“What if it backfires? What if they’re even meaner to Julie because I stepped in?”

“I’ll kick their asses,” Britt said simply. “Sometimes that’s the only thing a bully understands.”

“I wish it were that simple.” Camille sipped her coffee. She had no appetite for the scones. “The last thing I ever thought about when it came to Julie was that she’d be the victim of bullies. I wish I knew how to help. Why didn’t I notice what was going on until now?”