Several people spoke up at once, seizing on the word “attack,” while Amy saw Robinson get in the car.

“Hold on!” Alex commanded after standing up. “We do need to get more information. All we have right now is a guess.” Outside, Robinson started the car and started speaking.

“She doesn’t seem to think so,” the barista challenged, nodding toward Barb.

“They were told that we’re under attack,” Barb said. “Right, Amy?”

Amy ignored her, mesmerized by the scene outside.

“AMY MARRENA!” Barb shouted, using the middle name that was sure to get her attention.

It worked, but not the way Barb expected. “I think we have a problem,” Amy said. The number of onlookers had doubled in size and they were moving to encircle the car. Robinson talked rapidly, looking scared.

Alex followed her gaze along with the others. “Oh, come on, Mark,” he said, clearly irritated. Then the car began inching forward. He headed for the door and announced over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

By the time Alex got outside it was too late. Robinson had sped off onto the street.

His face turned as red as his hair, in the first of the handful of times Amy would ever see him angry. He looked up at Amy, closed his eyes, and peace spread over his face. He then turned and addressed the crowd in the parking lot. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but whatever it was caused the people there to visibly relax.