The coffee shop smelled rich and enticing. Freshly baked muffins, hot soup and warm bread rolls drove traffic in from outside. The lunch rush was hectic—and exactly what Rosie needed.

She asked Louanne if she could be on the register. She wanted the practice, and Louanne was happy to give it to her.

Although she probably wouldn’t have been if she’d known Rosie’s real motivation.

“That’ll be twelve fifty.” Rosie beamed, wondering if her smile was too bright, too plastic.

Would they know?

Taking the credit card, Rosie swiped it through the machine. She set the card down on the low shelf just under the counter and surreptitiously grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of the card.

She tapped the machine, pretending that she didn’t know why it wasn’t working. Of course she knew: she’d purposely not pushed it down far enough for the machine to read the magnetic strip.

“It’s being a little fickle today,” she said apologetically to the elderly woman waiting for her card.

“You take your time, dear,” the woman said with a smile.

Rosie swiped it again, with the right amount of pressure that time, and set the card back down on the shelf. Deftly, she snapped another picture, this time of the back so she could get the three-digit security code too.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that this had been one of the most stressful days of her life.

Thankfully they were short-staffed with Julio taken down by the flu. It meant that Louanne and Mandy were fully occupied in the kitchen and she was manning the front on her own. With no eyes watching her and customers happily oblivious, she was grabbing images of credit card numbers whenever she got the chance. By the end of the day, she’d have a full list that she could enter manually and then take the corresponding cash out of the drawer. Hopefully no one would be the wiser. By the time people checked their statements, she’d be long gone with the cash, and hopefully Louanne wouldn’t catch the discrepancy.

Louanne.

Rosie could cry. She was taking advantage of one of her favorite people, and setting her up to take the blame when customers eventually discovered they’d been taken. Yes, it was to save the woman’s life, but what kind of damage was Rosie doing along the way?

She’d come close to hating herself in the past, but this was an all-time low for Rosie. And there was nothing she could do about it.

“Good afternoon.” Mr. Strickland paused by the counter, his old smile warm and trusting as always.

Rosie breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he’d pay with cash and she couldn’t rip him off.

“I’ll take one of them frosted cinnamon buns today.”

“Plus your usual coffee?” Rosie wrote down the order before ringing it up on the register.

He chuckled. “You know me too well.”

Pulling out his wallet, he shakily handed over his cash. Rosie scanned the drawer, quickly trying to add up how much was in there. How much could she take without being obvious?

Dammit. It wouldn’t be enough.

There was no way two days of this would get her enough money for Damien.

Handing back Mr. Strickland’s change, she rubbed the back of her fingers against her cheek. Thankfully the red sting had died down quickly. She still felt Damien’s slaps in her soul, but anyone who saw her would have no idea the trauma she’d faced the night before.

Her fingers trembled as she took the tongs and pulled out a bun for Mr. Strickland. Placing it in the microwave, she quickly warmed it while turning to make his coffee. She still wasn’t fast on the machine, but she was getting better and had somehow managed not to screw up any orders that day. Louanne had been more than relieved.

“How’s it going out here?” Mandy appeared behind her, making Rosie jump.

She laughed and patted Rosie’s shoulder before turning to get the bun out of the microwave.

“I think the rush is going to die down soon,” Rosie murmured, panicking as she reached for her phone and tucked it in her pocket. She didn’t want Mandy to ask questions.

Mandy was busy plating Mr. Strickland’s food, which gave Rosie a chance to wallow even more over what she was being forced to do.

“Dear old Mr. Strickland,” Mandy whispered while she waited for Rosie to finish the coffee. “He always reminds me of my grandpa.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie poured the frothed milk into the mug and attempted a little pattern.

It didn’t really work.

She wrinkled her nose, which made Mandy laugh again. She was in a good mood. It was a nice change and made Rosie smile despite how awful she felt.

“He always orders the same thing and he always pays in cash.” Mandy’s eyebrows were lost beneath her bangs. “Hardly anyone pays in cash these days. Just the old-timers.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of sweet.”

“It’s adorable. Although my grandfather takes it to the extreme, of course.” Mandy rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“He keeps all his cash at home.”

“What?”

“Shhh.” Mandy leaned in and whispered, “It’s insane. The guy doesn’t trust banks and stores all his cash somewhere in the house. Knowing him, it’s probably under the mattress.” She snorted.

“That’s, um… Wow, I didn’t think people did that anymore.”

“They don’t. That’s what I try to keep telling him. I swear, that man is going to get robbed one day.” She brushed her hand through the air. “But he just keeps telling me that there’s nowhere safer than Aspen Falls. It’s not actually true, but I’ve yet to be proven right.”

With an affectionate smile, she picked up the tray. “I’ll deliver this to Mr. Strickland for you. I love saying hello to that sweet man.”

Rosie forced out a laugh, her mind hammering as Mandy rounded the counter to deliver the order.

A lifetime’s worth of cash at this guy’s house.

That would probably be enough to pay off a drug dealer.

Closing her eyes with a sick swallow, Rosie dreaded the idea of breaking into some old guy’s house, but what choice did she have?

If she didn’t get that money, the only decent people in her life would get hurt.

That couldn’t happen.

She was going to get herself out of this mess, and then she’d spend the rest of her life working to pay back everyone she’d stolen from.