But I must confront the writer, find out who was behind the threats. “What time does the newspaper office close?”

“Noon on Saturdays.”

I’d stop in on Monday after my counseling session with Pastor Emory.

The bell over the café’s door jingled, and Edie walked in. Her red face cautioned me to calm her down.

“Good morning,” Amy-Jo said, and I waved my greeting.

“I need coffee. Caffeine will help me get the right perspective about this.” Her tone showed otherwise.

“Are you okay?”

“My brother and I had a few words.”

“And?” Amy-Jo raised a finger.

“He insists today’s newspaper article is the consensus of all law-’biding citizens in town. Hard for me to fathom we came from the same parents.” A dramatic exhale followed.

“Love doesn’t require agreeing with everything a person says and does,” I said. “I’ll get your coffee with a dollop of half-and-half.”

“Surely you’re not defending him.” Edie’s eyes widened.

“He has a right to want the best for his city, family, and friends. My job is to show his taxes have gone to good use.” I choked back a sob like a spineless weakling. My emotions centered on Edie and Amy-Jo. These ladies were ready to march to my battlefront and take a hit.

“I appreciate both of you. You support me and neither of you have asked any questions about my ugly past. But the truth is, people judge. People are easily frightened by those convicted of evil things. I have to bear the burden unless someone breaks the law—then it’s Sheriff Wendall’s or Officer Hughes’s responsibility. I need to prove to you, James Peterson, and Pastor Emory that I’m trustworthy. I’d like to stay in this beautiful town, yet I won’t put anyone’s reputation at risk.” I eyed them separately. “You will not suffer for my sake.”

“Whoa,” Amy-Jo said. “Let’s ride this out together. Shelby, you’re right about human nature. But nothing scares me because I’ve seen the worst of the worst. In my opinion, nothing’s changed. Just more people know what brought you here. I’d like to think good will come from this.” She patted my arm.

I flinched.

“Sorry to offend you.” Amy-Jo stepped back.

“Habit. I was thinking about . . . stuff. I’m not used to being touched unless it’s with malevolent intent. My apologies.”

“No problem. You know, Randy could decide to like you.”

“Seriously?” Edie said. “That might happen on Judgment Day.”

I laughed and broke the tension. A regular customer lined up for his blueberry scone. I pointed to him. “Ladies, excuse me, but I have work to do.”

The man would make a great Santa during Christmas—his white hair reminded me of a much older version of Denton. “I’ll have four blueberry scones, four large cinnamon buns, and a dozen donut holes. The grandkids will soon be up and ready to start a Star Wars marathon.”

I slipped into a fresh pair of gloves and packaged his order. “I remember watching those movies with my family. Loved every minute. We all were fans.”