Melinda took the next three days off school. Icing helped take her swollen knee down to a manageable level, but it was still stiff. Elena came over from the bakery on Saturday morning to help her change the dressing and check to make sure it was healing as well as she thought.

"You're lucky you're a youngster," she said. "This looks way better."

"And I'm lucky you let me use the supplies from the first aid kit to keep taking care of this too. Thank you."

Elena dismissed her statement. "Of course, we did. Our employees are like family here. We take care of each other. Now, bend your knee a little, that way when I wrap it, I can make sure it will go under your jeans."

"How am I going to fix them? They're perfectly good except the holes in the knees." She was wearing a wrap around denim skirt instead of the jeans she grew to adore while she spent time getting ready for school and her move into the apartment.

"Have you seen the clothes the students wear?" Elena asked. Her long grey braid swung free when she it wasn't in her hairnet. The end of it almost got caught in the stretchy support bandage she was winding in a figure eight around Melinda's leg.

"I never pay attention. When they come in there's always a rush. I'm stuck behind the counter, so I only see their faces. I don't like all the makeup the girls wear."

"Neither do I, Melinda," Elena said as she secured the bandage, "The three o'clock after class rush. They love my sausage rolls. It seems I can never have enough of them ready."

"Yup, four dozen gone inside of half an hour. Some of the boys take three at a time." Melinda shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't anyone feed them?"

"Most of them are in the dorms. And the food isn't bad, but it's the same set of menus which repeat themselves every ten days from what my grandson says. It gets boring after a while. Sometimes it's because they can't get used to not having Mom's cooking anymore either. I try to keep my recipes as close to the ones I learned from my own mother as I can."

"It has to better than what I got while I was growing up," Melinda said.

"Peggy said Lana told her you had it pretty rough. Just think of us as the grandmothers you need," the muscular baker said. "There, that's done. How's the other knee?"

"A bit painful if I bend it too far, but it's scabbed over, and I haven't bothered to cover it up anymore." Melinda shifted her skirt to show her.

"Good enough. Are you going down today? Greg's at his favorite corner table."

"I've been talking to him a lot. He's such a good listener, and he's been so good to me. I'm having a hard time believing he's the real thing. Lana says yes, and so does Mirabelle."

"I do too. I love his blogs." She checked her watch.

"I'll never be able to afford eating at some of those places."

"Me too, but we can dream."

Melinda nodded.

"Now how did we get sidetracked," Elena shook her head. "Your jeans. Leave the tears in them alone. Add one down closer to your ankles and put another one halfway up your thigh. It's all the rage. If you want too, you can get some stick on rhinestones and make them into a fashion statement."

"Will they be okay in the washing machine?" Melinda pointed at the all in one machine under the kitchen counter beside the dishwasher.

"Gentle cycle, and then put them in the bathroom on a hanger. One of the ones they use for trousers. That way they dry almost wrinkle free and you don't have to iron them."

"I think I'll leave the rhinestones off. I don't like calling attention to myself."

"All right then, I'll leave you to it. By the way. I think you can close the door between us now. The next time you take that bandage off, it will be the last time, I think."

"I like having it open. I didn't think I would though."

"I know. I just don't want customers wandering in. It's busy and they're nosy."

"Right." Melinda stood up and then bent her knees testing them, as Elena headed for the door. Following her she called after her, "Thank you!"

"Just lock your door."

Melinda pulled the bakery side shut and the pushed her own closed, turning both locks. Her apartment felt too small as she listened to the muffled chatter on the other side

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.

Greg looked up to see Mel wending her way through the the maze of tables in the coffeeshop. She was still limping ever so slightly on her right leg, but otherwise appeared to be recovering well. Daily conversations were becoming routine and he was anticipating this one just a little bit more. His companions smiled as well.

It was obvious when Mel figured out he wasn't alone as usual. He watched her smooth down her skirt and wondered if a panic attack was already building. She looked over her shoulder then came to a halt a couple of tables away from them.

A reporter he recognized from one of the newspapers which carried his blog, stopped her and he let out a small growl. Did she figure out exactly who Mel was? Was Agnus Hiller going to scare her away? He started to get up, and his father, grabbed his arm.

"Let her handle it. No hovering."

"She's so vulnerable, Dad."

"And she will continue that way if you don't let her learn to trust her instincts. Remember Arianna?"

"I know."

"It's hard to let them stumble or get stung by life," his brother sympathized. "She strong already. She's survived a lot."

Mel left the table and went behind the counter. Ralph was there, and she whispered something in his ear. He nodded and she came back to Agnus' table with a huge smile on her face. She pulled her phone out and keyed her password in, before entering something into it. Then shook the reporter's hand.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Anson asked.

"I think she's going to tell us," Greg said.

"Greg, this is so exciting. She's going to surprise her friend. Elena has a birthday cake upstairs. Ralph will bring it down, and I just texted Elena to let her know it's a go in about twenty minutes. Agnus' friend is on her way here."

"I had no idea they do this sort of thing," Greg said.

"Not usually, but Agnus remembered the carrot cake we have some days and wanted it for her friend. It's her favorite and Elena said she would decorate it."

"I think I'm going to have to go back on my promise to myself to keep this place my secret. I've had her carrot cake and her brownies now, and they are superb. A true treat," Greg said.

"That would be awesome!" Mel said, "but it might spoil the laid back vibes here."

"I don't think so." Greg said. "I've been here during the lunch rush. There's two distinct types of customers. I'm sure you've noticed too."

"Greg, son, introduce us please," his father reminded him.

Mel braced herself against the table, her knuckles were white, but she stayed put.

"This is my father, Melinda. Elvin Ste. Claire,"

"You're the one who told Greg, I wasn't guilty." She kept her voice low and glanced around like she was looking for eavesdroppers, then straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"I am. My boy, Anson here brought the files home. I've been retired for almost 20 years, and Anson left the troopers seven years ago."

Anson spoke up as his father stopped to take a breath. "The whole investigation went for the easy answer. Not good."

"Why?" Melinda asked. "The police reports didn't seem like it."

"You've seen them?" Anson asked.

She nodded.

Greg got up and went over to another table.

"Excuse me. May I take this chair?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." He brought it over and waved Melinda into the spot he vacated then sat down himself.

"This isn't really the right place to discuss this," he said.

"Lana said I could try and keep it quiet, or I could just own it, like Dr. Elizabeth suggested. I'm going to own it. I'm scared of the backlash, but I don't like not being honest about who I am," Melinda explained. "My panic attacks are getting worse. I have to face it."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked.

"She's sure," Elvin said. "Look at her son. She's ready for this. You know how hard it is to lead a double life."

Melinda's eyebrow shot up before she answered. "It's part of me. The nightmares, like a told you Greg, need to stop. The only way is to figure out what really happened that night. Dr. Elizabeth and I have been working it out since I got out of juvenile detention."

"I spent some time working for the CIA after I left the army," Greg said after seeing the questions in her eyes. "I took up cooking and developed a fascination for good food along the way. One thing led to another and I started writing the blog mostly for myself. I was trying to figure out what made the dishes I was eating so tasty. My wife was my taster."

"Okay. Remember I told you I wasn't sure about you?" Mel looked directly into Greg's gray-green eyes.

He nodded before she continued.

"I'm going to trust my gut. It wasn't wrong before when I got suckered. I just didn't trust it. You're one of the good guys, and I'm going to trust Anson and Elvin because of you too. I have to start somewhere, and I think this is where it has to be."

His father and brother were silent as he thought about Melinda's statement. It surprised him. The shaky young woman he scooped up off the floor a few days ago was blooming right in front of him.

"I like your Dr. Elizabeth." The other men at the table nodded in agreement.

"Funny, I do too." Melinda's smile was blinding. "So, you'll help me. Right?"

A/N Word Count 9582  Word 8000 occurred somewhere in the first 4 paragraphs of this chapter.