But he refused to be held prisoner on his own land. He hadn’t done anything wrong. The sooner they could bury the hatchet the sooner he could stop looking over his shoulder every time he stepped foot outside his house.
So he’d accepted the invitation from Hank for lunch and he’d driven his work truck into town, parking behind the sheriff’s office. The sky was cloudless and the sun was a bright orange ball directly overhead. Fall had taken hold with a mighty grasp and the leaves had changed and were now falling to the ground. It would only be a week or two before the first frost, but it was nice out so he decided to leave his shearling jacket in the truck. His flannel shirt would be sufficient enough. He adjusted his ball cap and pocketed his keys, not bothering to lock the doors, and headed toward the diner.
Downtown Laurel Valley was a picture in the fall. The Bavarian-style village had been carefully designed in the late 1800s when European settlers arrived. Main Street was laid out in an X-shape, with The Lampstand restaurant sitting at the apex—a three-story building with a pointed black roof that had once been the first bank in the area. Downtown stretched for only a few blocks, each of the stores boutique style and unique to the area.
The sheriff’s office was a newer building, built just a few years ago when Blaze O’Hara had taken over as sheriff and convinced the town to pass a bond for a new station. His cousin Hank had gotten the contract and built it to blend seamlessly with the rest of Laurel Valley’s carefully maintained aesthetic. The exterior looked like part of the mountain landscape itself—Bavarian architecture with planter boxes overflowing with flowers, wooden beams, and that distinctive alpine charm the taxpayers insisted on.
Beckett was halfway down Main Street when he heard Hazel yell out. The cobblestone pedestrian walkway was crowded with tourists browsing the shops, so everyone turned toward the latest entertainment. When she called out a second time, he had no choice but to acknowledge that he’d heard her.
He turned around slowly and plastered an easy-going grin on his face. Looking at her now, he wasn’t sure what he’d ever seen in her. She was a pretty girl—or would’ve been if the bitterness and anger hadn’t etched itself permanently on her face—but she was past the twenties and well into her thirties with it. She was petite and trim and blond, which had been his type for the past fifteen years—his luck with brunettes had run out the day Marnie had left town. And he could appreciate the way Hazel filled out the jeans and red sweater she wore. But looks only went so far.
“You’re a liar, Beckett Hamilton,” she yelled from down the street.
His eyebrows rose at her accusation and he could see the crowds growing on each side of the street as customers and shop owners came outside to watch.
“No, I’m not,” he said calmly. “Why don’t we go inside and talk about this like adults.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you. Mister high and mighty Hamilton.” She dashed a tear off her cheek and then planted both fists at her hips. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, and you just ignore me. Well, I’m tired of being ignored. I’m gonna say what I have to say, and I’m going to do it right here.”
“If that’s the way you want to do it, then get it done. You’re giving everyone their entertainment for the afternoon. I said what I had to say to you weeks ago. We went on three dates. Nothing more. I told you from the start I’m not ready to settle down, and I’ve got no interest in a serious relationship. So if you’ve got something to add to that then let’s get this over with. I’ve got hay to bale this afternoon and I have no intention of being the center of everyone’s gossip tonight.”
“Too late!” someone called out from the sidewalk. There was a smattering of chuckles, and he could see Levi and Hank standing in front of The Lampstand, arms crossed and smiling like loons. They were going to give him grief when this was over.
“You can’t tell me we didn’t have something special,” Hazel called out. “We could’ve made a life together. I would’ve given you everything if you’d let me.” She sniffled and her empowered speech was turning into a whine. “I believed in you. You said you loved me.”
“Oh, no,” Beckett said, reaching his limit. “Those words never crossed my lips and never have. I’m sorry that you thought you could change my mind, but I was up front with you from the beginning. I won’t be pressured into anything.”
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“Then you should go find the father and let him know,” Beckett said, unable to hold back his irritation any longer. “We’ve never slept together. You’re just trying to embarrass me and my family, but all you’re doing is embarrassing yourself. Your parents are going to have a fit hearing about your behavior.”
If looks could’ve killed he’d already be six feet under. Her pointed chin tilted stubbornly and she put her hands on her hips. “You’ve just proven you’re no man worth anything. I’m glad you’ve shown your true colors.”
“There you go. Always look on the bright side.”
She turned sharply on her heel and marched toward her car. Beckett sighed and ignored the curious stares of onlookers as he made his way toward Hank and Levi.
“Shut up,” he said before either of them could open their mouths to speak.
“Hey, man,” Hank said, holding up his hands. “We’re innocent. Don’t take it out on us. Besides, she’s crazy as a bedbug and everybody knows it now. You dodged a bullet there. Levi will buy your lunch and make you feel better.”
Levi elbowed his cousin, but didn’t take back the offer. “Come on. Let’s get off the street.”
The Lampstand was a window to another era. The building had originally been a bank over a hundred and fifty years ago, and it still retained all its original charm. The ornate stonework around the windows and entrance had been carefully preserved, and the heavy wooden doors were original to the building, their brass fixtures polished to a mirror shine. Bavarian in style like so much of the original architecture in Laurel Valley, the three-story chalet sat right at the apex of downtown’s X-shaped layout, with a beacon of light at the very top—almost like a lighthouse. You could always find The Lampstand, no matter where you were in town.
Inside, the main dining room felt peaceful—all dark wood and warm light and heavenly smells. Windows lined two sides of the room, offering spectacular views of Twin Peaks and the lake. A third side was dominated by a massive stone fireplace tall and wide enough for a person to step inside, with flames roaring behind the grate. Overhead, massive wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, hung with delicate crystal chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the diners.
The tables were dressed with white tablecloths and polished silverware that gleamed in the candlelight, each adorned with fresh flowers. The air was rich with the scent of roasting meats, fresh-baked bread, and herbs—a perfect blend of comfort and luxury that had put The Lampstand on the map for fine dining.
“Well, look who the cat drug in,” Mac called out from the hostess stand. Her dark hair was piled artfully on top of her head, and she wore a white button-down shirt and a black pleated skirt that came a few inches above the knee—the restaurant’s uniform for front-of-house staff.
“Is that any way to talk to paying customers?” Levi asked his niece.
Her eyes widened in shock and she started coughing. “Did you say you’re paying? Grandma, get out here!”
“Brat,” Levi said, grinning. “Mom and Dad are in Boise for the day. She found a piece of furniture she had to have and they went to pick it up.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “You ruin all my fun. Come on back. I’ve got a table for you troublemakers.”
