I shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

She hopped up and strode over to the case. “What makes you think I’d know?”

“I…”

Her eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. “Because all the old people shop here now?”

“That’s not what I meant. I—”

She laughed. “I’m just shittin’ ya.” When she stopped guffawing, she said, “Who’re you shoppin’ for? Maybe I know their favorite.”

She seemed mighty jovial considering she was liable to be out of a job if Ima Jean heard her talking that way. “Mildred Winkleman. I’m hopin’ to butter her up.”

She burst out laughing again. “Mildred? Why, there ain’t enough sugar in this whole shop to sweeten that woman up, let alone butter her to boot.”

“So, she doesn’t come in here?”

“Oh, she comes in here all right. She tries to tell me that our cakes are too dry and our pie crust is too tough. Why just last week, I told ’er she was more than welcome to show me how it ought to be done, but she stomped off, sniveling about the ungrateful younger generation.”

I supposed the woman was young enough for Mildred to refer to her as a part of a younger generation. “There’s nothing she likes?”

“I don’t know if she likes them or not, but she always gets the double chocolate brownies. She claims she uses them as a laxative. Comes in every week like clockwork to get her week’s supply.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“You want me to package some up for ya? I can put ’em in a box with a ribbon.”

“Uh…” Was giving a gift that was the equivalent of Ex Lax, only tied up with a bow, a good idea? “Yeah. That would be great.”

“Sure thing.” She scooped out a couple of brownies and put them in a small green bag, then wrapped red ribbon all around it and tied it off. It looked like it had been wrapped by a drunken elf after he’d broken his hand in a tussle with a reindeer.

She slapped the bag on the counter and I fought a cringe. Between the smack and how tightly wrapped the bag was, the brownies had to be crushed.

“That’ll be ten dollars.”

My mouth dropped. “For two brownies?”

She shrugged. “What are ya gonna do? Inflation and all that jazz. Plus, we raised the prices to make more money since we only have a quarter of the customers we used to have before Dena’s Bakery opened.”

I wanted to tell her that raising prices in response to declining business was a terrible idea, but I figured that was the least of her worries.

“Have you been there?” she asked as I handed her the money.

“Where?”

“Dena’s. Her marble cake is to die for.”

“You’ve shopped there?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course,” she said, acting as if I were a fool. “You think I’d eat this garbage?”

I picked up the bag and my head began to tingle. The next moment, I was in a bar, dancing with a man with thinning hair who smelled like peas. His paunchy gut bumped into mine.

I swayed on my feet, the room spinning around me, but the man held me upright. It was obvious I’d had too much to drink.

“So when you gonna get this fortune you claim is comin’?” her date asked, sounding skeptical.

“Sooner than I’d dreamed. The answer just dropped out of heaven.”

The vision faded and I was staring into the face of the woman behind the counter, while a tidal wave of pain crashed through my head. “Your fortune’s comin’ soon.”

She laughed. “If that ain’t so? My fortune, you say? I gave up hope of my fortune ever comin’ a long time ago. What are you doin’ going around talkin’ about fortunes?”

I forced a smile, eager to get out of there and take an ibuprofen. “It’s almost Chinese New Year. It’s something they say. Like Happy New Year.”

“You don’t say?” she said in surprise. “Your fortune’s comin’ soon.” She grinned and shimmied her shoulders. “You learn something new every day. Now I feel all cosmopolitan.”

“Thanks.” I stuffed the bag into my purse and hurried out the door. I wasn’t sure what to make of her vision, and although most visions usually had nothing to do with me, this one concerned me since it made me ill. Did her fortune have anything to do with Mason?

The cold air hit me the instant I walked outside and my hair blew into my face, obscuring my vision. I turned in the direction of the truck and ran right into someone. Brushing the hair out of my face, I was frustrated to see I’d stumbled into Kate Simmons.

Crappy doodles.

I took a couple of steps backward as I recovered my balance.

She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Well, if it isn’t little Rose Gardner.”

I considered trying to make some kind of small talk, but Joe didn’t trust her, which was a good enough reason for me not to trust her either. “Sorry, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going.”

I tried to step around her, but she blocked my path. “I was hoping I’d run into you in town, although not quite so literally.” She laughed, but a determined look in her eyes told me I wasn’t going anywhere until she deemed our conversation done.

I steeled myself. “Well, here I am. What can I do for you?”

“I think we can be friends,” she said. “I’d like to be friends.”