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“Great,” I lie, and Genevieve laughs.
“Another thing that I think would be good is if we did a little question-and-answer session at the fall festival. It doesn’t need to be anything too formal, but I think putting yourself out there in front of the people of Gooseberry is important, especially when Joe has plans to speak at the next town hall.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Well, you need to,” she says in a tone that lets me know that the suggestion wasn’t a suggestion at all. “The town knows you, but they don’t really know you. They don’t know that you stayed the night with the Hickmans’ kids when Mrs. Hickman went into labor and they couldn’t find a sitter. They don’t know that you saved Ms. Showman’s dog after you found it hit by a car in the middle of the road on your way home from work. They don’t know about your life in the service and that you saved multiple men.” She eyes me thoughtfully. “You’ve always been very private and kept to yourself, but as sheriff, that won’t be an option. The job requires you to put yourself out there. Not only are the people hiring you to protect them, but they’re also hiring you to represent them as a community during the worst of times.”
“Okay, I wasn’t sure about my mom running your whole campaign, but I have to say you just got my vote, and I haven’t even heard you speak,” Genevieve says quietly, and Elsie’s expression softens as she looks at her daughter.
“Thanks, honey.”
“You’re welcome,” she tells her mom as I feel the light touch of her hand on my arm. I look over at her. “Do you mind scooting out? I’m going to use the restroom and wash my hands before the food comes.”
Without a word I get up to let her out, then hold out my hand to help her up. As my hand closes around hers and her head tips back, my gut twists when I see her full pink lips part just ever so slightly and her pupils dilate.
“Thanks.” She shakes her head, taking her hand from mine, mumbling, “I’ll be back.”
It’s impossible to keep my eyes off her as she walks away, but I’m not the only man she’s snared in her web—the group of old-timers that meet at the diner every day for coffee watch her and smile when she passes, and Matt, who runs the kitchen, also looks in her direction with a look of awe on his face.
“So how’s it been working with Genevieve?” Elsie asks, grabbing my attention, and I silently curse that I just got caught watching her daughter like a tiny fly caught in a spider’s web.
“It’s been good.” I take my seat. “We got word yesterday that the house on Lavender Hill accepted my offer, so she’s setting up the inspection and appraisal right now.”
“She mentioned that. Congratulations.” She picks up her coffee. “I was a little worried about how the two of you might get along, so I’m glad to see it all working out.” Her smile tells me that she is up to something, and I have a feeling I know what that something is.
“Elsie.”
“Anyways.” She cuts me off before I can confront her. “I’m going to give Mike a call this afternoon and see if he’d be willing to give you a public endorsement. Maybe after he speaks at the fall festival like he does every year, he can call you up onstage and say some kind words about you and the type of man you are, then leave you behind to answer questions.” She waves her hand. “I’ll need to think on it a bit, but we’ll figure it out and make it feel as natural as possible.”
“Great,” I lie, and she reaches across the table to pat my hand.
“I know that all this is going to make you uncomfortable, but when you’re sheriff, you’ll thank me.” She smiles brightly while I inwardly groan.
Chapter 9:
Small-Town Drama
Genevieve
Fighting to get the Coming Soon sign into the ground out front of my new clients’ house, I hear someone shouting behind me. Turning to look over my shoulder, I watch a thin woman with bleached blond hair, dressed in a ragged T-shirt and sweats, wave her hands over her head, calling out “Hello” as she rushes toward me.
“Hi.” I hide my frown when she cuts across the grass toward me in her bare feet with a large dog that has fur the same color as her hair running behind her.
“Sorry for bothering you.” She stops at my side with her eyes on the sign I have in my hands. “I’m Ashley. I live next door.” She glances at the house she just came from, and I do the same. The house is an almost exact replica of my clients’ home but couldn’t be more different. Where my clients have taken time to keep up the house and gardens lining the front of their property, the house next door is run down, with obvious faux flowers stuck into the ground out front. Their bright green leaves and yellow and red petals stick out in stark contrast against the rest of the yard, which has turned brown and gray with the fall weather that has eaten away at the vibrancy of the rest of the greenery. “Are Jessica and Liam selling their house?”
“They are.”
“Oh no.” Her shoulders slump forward.
“Sorry, you didn’t know?”
“No.” She lets out a long breath, her eyes going back to the sign. “Do you think we can talk?”
“Sure.” I finish pushing the sign I’m still holding into the ground with the toe of my boot, then wipe my hands together to get off the dust.
“Next door.”
“Pardon?”
