"Magic?" I asked, laughing. "No magic here."
"Don't be silly," she said, whacking my arm. "You taught yourself how to start a business and now you've been at it for how long? Six, seven years?"
"Almost seven," I replied.
"And don't forget about the baking. Good gravy, I've gained an extra love handle since you started visiting the sheriff. If you marry him, I won't fit into my bikini anymore."
"I've given up on mine," I said with a laugh. I wasn't touching that marriage comment with a marble rolling pin. "No one's complained yet."
"You've got yourself a good one," she said with a knowing grin. I started to joke about the firefighters lusting over her but she whacked my arm again. "Your sisters are boring and they wear too much makeup. What's with all the bronzer? It's just silly. Don't listen to them."
I glanced at her, studying the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. "I try not to."
"Don't listen to your mother either. She's just as bad with the bronzer and she has a twig up her rear end. I don't know where it came from since your grandmother is such a saint but it's lodged way up there," Cindy continued. "But that sheriff of ours, you go on and listen to him. He knows his mind and he knows you're one in a million."
"I'm working on it," I said, bumping my shoulder against hers.
Flashing lights tore open the night as a caravan of law enforcement vehicles drove through the village. "They're coming back," Cindy said. "I'm going to head inside and put things in order. Who knows what they'll need when they get here." She stepped forward, her arm still linked with mine. "Let's go. You can stay in the sheriff's office. He'd hate it if I left you out here in the cold."
"Cindy, there's barely a breeze," I argued. "I'm fine out here."
She flapped her hands, nearly putting my eye out with her cane. "He'd want you inside."
Before I could respond, Jackson's SUV pulled into the parking lot with four deputies' vehicles immediately behind him.
"Time for me to skedaddle," Cindy called. She shot me a baleful glance and hobbled away. "Come on in when you're ready."
The crowd closed in as Jackson stepped out of his vehicle. He seemed well and unharmed, all limbs accounted for and no blood in sight. I gathered the ends of the shawl in my fist, holding it as tight as possible to keep me from falling apart with relief.
Jackson flattened his hand against the backseat door while he conversed with the deputies assembled around him. They seemed to be strategizing, motioning between themselves and toward the public safety building. It was the wrong time to fixate on the way his uniform trousers hugged his ass and thighs but I was doing it anyway. His posture—strong and assertive with his feet spread and shoulders back—made me salivate. I wanted to go to him and fix everything right now. I also wanted to rip my undies off but that was nothing new when it came to Jackson.
From behind me, I heard someone say, "It could be the Fitzsimmons boy."
"That's what I thought," another agreed. "Nothing but trouble, that one."
"He was never a nice boy," someone else chimed in. "Problems with him right from the start."
"It's these parents nowadays," a fourth voice added. "Too permissive. Always wanting to be friends. In my time, we said 'spare the rod, spoil the child.' No spoiling in my house and my boys turned out just fine."
"He's in rehab," an irritable neighbor said. It sounded like JJ Harniczek but I was too busy watching Jackson to turn around and verify my suspicions. "You should give the kid some credit. He's workin' at it, he's tryin' to kick the habit. Not easy shit. You think you're all so good and holy, why don't you save your judgment for your next talk with god, huh?"
After a pause, someone said, "Maybe it's Lincoln. I love the guy but he's an angry drunk."
"Nah, that's not true. I've never seen anything like that."
"Everyone knows there are problems in that house. Always fighting, always storming out. He put his fist through a window a few years back. You remember that, don'tcha?"
"It's not Lincoln," the irritable neighbor snapped. "You people need to knock this shit off. Might as well go back to bed so you can piss and moan in comfort."
"Who can sleep with all this noise? And the lights? My god, do they need to make such a racket?"
"Why won't they just open the door? What are they waiting for?"
"I heard they found him at the Nevilles' inn. Didn't get inside the house or anywhere near their baby, thank heavens, but had weapons on him."
"Those poor people. They've been through so much."
"I couldn't go on, knowing one of the men who killed my entire family was still on the loose. Couldn't do it at all. The stress alone would take me."
