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Home to Sparrow Lake
Lynn Patrick
Police chief Alex Novak is exactly the kind of man Kristen Lange could fall for. If she were staying in Sparrow Lake.But she can't fall. And she can't stay.Moving home was a temporary setback, not a life choice! As soon as she lands a job in Chicago, Kristen will be packing her Manolos and hopping back on the fast track. If she’s going to meet her goals, she can’t afford distractions – or involvement. Not in her aunt’s quilting store, not in her widowed sister’s life, and certainly not with Alex.No matter how intriguing – and determined – he is. No matter what she’s starting to feel.


Falling in love is not the plan
Police chief Alex Novak is exactly the kind of man Kristen Lange could fall for—if she were staying in Sparrow Lake. But she can’t fall. And she can’t stay. Moving home was a temporary setback, not a life choice! As soon as she lands a job in Chicago, Kristen will be packing her Manolo shoes and hopping back on the fast track.
If she’s going to meet her goals, she can’t afford distractions—or involvement. Not in her aunt’s quilting store, not in her widowed sister’s life, and certainly not with Alex. No matter how intriguing—and determined—he is. No matter what she’s starting to feel.
Pulse humming, Kristen came face-
to-face with the man who’d arrested her the night before.
“Is there a problem, Chief?”
“Alex, please.”
He was wearing a uniform today, looking unbelievably good in stark black. She almost wished she could see the soft gray of his eyes through his dark sunglasses. Not wanting to be attracted to him, she swallowed hard. “Okay, Alex, do you have a problem with me?”
“Why would you think that?”
“This is the second time today you stopped in front of the store like you were casing it. Or maybe you’re expecting me to be doing something not to your liking. Maybe you just want to arrest me again.”
The way he was staring at her so intently, as if he wanted to say something but was reluctant, made her mouth go dry.
Then a slow easy grin lit his face. “Will you have dinner with me?”
Kristen swallowed hard. She’d had a purpose in moving to Sparrow Lake, and it certainly wasn’t romance. No matter how tempting this man in uniform was, getting involved would just complicate things.
Dear Reader,
Lynn Patrick is a writing team—Linda and Patricia being our real first names.
Linda’s middle sister liked to quilt. While Linda was visiting the small town in which she grew up, her sister took her to a specialized quilting store with creative projects hanging on the walls, yards of fabrics, and friendly local personnel who also offered classes on weekends and evenings. She found the place inspiring and, though she’s a city person now, she couldn’t help imagining the story of a burned-out urban dweller returning to her roots to find love and happiness.
Linda’s sister also had small twin granddaughters, some of whose escapades inspired scenes in Home to Sparrow Lake.
We hope you fall in love with these characters just as we did. And be sure to look for us on Facebook!
Lynn Patrick
Home to Sparrow Lake


Lynn Patrick


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LYNN PATRICK
is the pseudonym for two best friends who started writing together a few decades ago. Linda is a professor with a reading specialty, and Patricia writes as Patricia Rosemoor. Together they enjoy creating worlds that are lightened by the unexpected, fun and sometimes wonderful vagaries of real life.
For Linda’s sisters and their families, where we got some great and also fun details for this story.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u28fa1ec0-3e68-5f9b-8452-bc2bfe3a342d)
CHAPTER TWO (#u170706af-3ae9-546d-8e24-0c8f7fb20cd5)
CHAPTER THREE (#u631cf6ec-bb79-5dc5-b7b3-6f0ff0604242)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uec1d8589-3e23-57f0-970a-8932238d43ce)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u14bb686c-6410-5617-91ff-b3b01f9d0e9e)
CHAPTER SIX (#u74a15bc2-99ae-5d0a-a26f-2e55387037a2)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
BEING BONE TIRED for a change felt good.
Kristen Lange knew she was driven when it came to work, and it had been nearly a year since she’d had the opportunity to satisfy her type A personality. But thanks to Aunt Margaret, she’d spent a long day going over Sew Fine’s records to acquaint herself with the business. She knew nothing about shops that sold quilting materials and offered quilting classes. But she was a quick learner.
When her eyes began to water and she couldn’t stop herself from yawning, she knew it was time to call it quits. There was always tomorrow.
She checked her watch. One in the morning. Sheesh, it already was tomorrow.
Enough. Even a type A needed some sleep.
And food, her noisy stomach reminded her. She remembered having lunch halfway through the day, and she’d meant to order in dinner, but she’d been so preoccupied going over the store’s accounts and various orders—mostly handwritten on scraps of paper—that she’d simply forgotten she needed to eat. Her growling stomach was doing a fine job of reminding her. When she got back to the house, she would have to raid Aunt Margaret’s refrigerator.
She closed down the computer and searched under the desk for her high heels. Designer shoes were her weakness, but four-inch stilettos weren’t meant to be worn for so many hours, and she’d taken them off once the store had closed for the night.
Yawning again, she shoved her swollen feet into her shoes and headed for the back door, where she shut down the store’s lights.
She was so tired she might not bother with the fridge after all.
It wasn’t until she’d closed the door and heard the automatic lock click into place that she realized she’d left her purse—and keys!—by the register inside.
Drat! She couldn’t get into her car. Now what was she supposed to do? She guessed she could walk home—crawl nearly a mile was more like it—but then she had no keys to the house. They, too, were inside the locked store. She didn’t want to wake her aunt, who’d stayed home all day trying to fight off a sinus infection, so she figured she’d just have to find some way back into Sew Fine.
Unfortunately, the windows facing the alley were too high. She could reach them, but there was no way to get herself in a position to climb inside from the ground. And, of course, the store had an alarm system. But if she could figure out how to get in through a window, she could quickly drop to the floor and shut down the alarm, which was next to the back door.
The downtown area of Sparrow Lake was nearly deserted at night, so who was going to hear?
Kristen looked around for something to climb on. The Dumpster would get her high enough, but it was shoved to one side of the building, not directly under the window.
Too tired to cry, she made an unhappy face and then got to work.
If, a year ago, someone had told her that she would be stuck in her small hometown, living on her aunt’s charity, trying to make sense of a business that she didn’t understand, she would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. Now here she was, dressed in a designer business suit and heels, pushing a Dumpster along the back of a building so she could climb on top of it to break in.
You can’t go home again.
That thought had been echoing through her mind since Aunt Margaret had invited her to do so. At the moment, she wondered if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by trying.
Kristen wearily set the Dumpster in place and struggled to get on top of it. Good thing she still worked out. Only three tries and she hiked herself up with her arms like she would to get out of a swimming pool. Throwing her upper body forward, she grabbed onto the side of the Dumpster and squirmed sideways until she could get a knee under her.
One look down at her filthy, snagged suit told her it was ruined.
What else could go wrong?
Kristen got to her feet and checked the closest window. Of course it was locked tight. Groaning, she checked the other window, knowing what she would find before even trying to open it.
Wearily, she assessed her options. She could walk that mile and sleep on the front porch swing, or she could sleep atop the Dumpster. Neither idea appealed to her.
So she told herself that a girl had to do what a girl had to do, and, with apologies to Christian Louboutin, picked up one of her precious shoes and used it to break a single glass pane, immediately setting off the alarm.
Nearly on her last nerve, she gritted her teeth at the shrieking sound that pierced the night, and after taking a furtive look around to make sure no one was out there with a shotgun aimed at her, used the heel of the shoe to clear the glass so she wouldn’t cut herself. Then she stuck in an arm and found the lock. Once she released it, she opened the window and raised the sash. The sill was about three feet higher than the Dumpster, and she was wearing a tight skirt, so it would take some fancy maneuvering to get inside.
After making certain there was no glass on the sill, she hitched her skirt high and started to climb in when, half in, half out of the window, she was nearly blinded by a brilliant beam from a flashlight below.
Then a deep voice said, “Lady, you’re under arrest.”
Speechless, she froze.
The light moved up and down over her, and the man added, “You know, you really ought to dress more appropriately when you’re robbing a place.”
Okay, that struck her last nerve.
* * *
POLICE CHIEF ALEX NOVAK appreciated the length of leg he got to admire for a moment before yelling, “Come on down now!” above the still-screeching alarm.
“You don’t understand!” the woman hanging on the window sill returned.
“I understand you’re trying to break into the place.”
“Because my keys are inside!”
“Sure. Like I haven’t heard that one before.”
“How do I know you’re a cop? You’re not wearing a uniform,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him as she balanced on the sill.
“I’m not on duty.”
“Then why are you being such a pain in the—”
“If you don’t come down voluntarily, I’ll have to come up to get you. I don’t think you want that.”
He could hear her muttering under the sound of the alarm, but she slid her legs back down to the Dumpster. He admired them all the way up to her thighs revealed by her skirt catching on the window sill. She muttered some more and he thought he heard a rip when she freed the material.
Then she turned to glare down at him. She appeared a little crazed, with tufts of dark blond hair sticking out around her face emphasizing her outraged expression.
“I can’t believe you have nothing better to do than cruise alleys in the middle of the night!” she shouted over the blaring noise.
Alex clenched his jaw. “I heard the alarm go off and knew someone was up to no good!” He flicked a switch on his radio and connected with the night desk at the station. “Call Margaret Becker and tell her there’s been an attempted break-in at Sew Fine. Someone needs to come and turn off the blasted alarm.”
“No, don’t call her and wake her!” the woman protested. “I can turn off the alarm if you let me get inside.”
Figuring that would give her the opportunity to give him the slip by going out the front way, he said, “Just come on down.”
She grabbed up her shoes and moved to the edge of the Dumpster. “Your arresting me is absolutely ridiculous.”
His irritation level shot up a notch. “Casting aspersions on my job isn’t going to win you any points.”
He could see her face clearly now. One cheek was smeared with dirt, but it was her sour expression that detracted from her softly rounded cheeks, thick-lashed blue eyes and full lips. A sour expression aimed at him.
Even so, he stretched out his free arm. “Let me give you a hand.”
She ignored it and got herself down, planting both stockinged feet in the alley. She started to put on her shoes, then stopped and straightened. She was a few inches shorter than he, but if she was wearing those stilts, she could meet him eye-to-eye.
“You’re not going to put those on?”
“After planting my feet in muck?”
Her way of saying “are you crazy?” Her voice went up so high that it, along with the alarm, scraped down his spine.
“C’mon.” He took her arm and led her to the edge of the alley where he’d left the patrol car.
“You’re not even going to ask me to explain first?”
“Explain all you want at the station.”
“But Margaret Becker is my aunt!”
“That remains to be seen.”
He really should handcuff her, but she looked close to tears, and he thought things might not be exactly as they’d first seemed. He’d never seen her around town before, but if Margaret truly was her aunt...
The raucous alarm was driving him crazy.
Nope. This wasn’t the place to have any kind of conversation. And he did want to talk to her. A woman wearing designer everything breaking into the back of a store was the most intriguing thing that had happened around here in the two years since he’d moved to Wisconsin from Chicago.
Opening the rear door of the squad, he said, “Get in and watch your head.”
CHAPTER TWO
KRISTEN HAD EXPECTED a small-town police station would be deserted at night. She was surprised to see a couple of uniformed officers talking to the woman at the desk. Their conversation ended immediately and the woman said, “I called Mrs. Becker, Chief. She said she would get over to the store and shut off the alarm right away.”
“Thanks, Janet.”
Kristen tightened her jaw. “My aunt has been sick. You shouldn’t be bothering her, Chief.”
“Not here.”
She felt the gazes of the two officers follow her and the cretin as he led her toward the rear of the station. He escorted her into an office. The brass plate on his desk read Police Chief Alex Novak.
“Sit,” he said. “Please.”
Too exhausted to protest, Kristen dropped into a chair.
How had her life gone so wrong?
She’d lost her job, her savings, her home.
And now this new humiliation.
“If you’re going to arrest me, just get it over with.” At least that way, he would throw her in a cell with a cot and she could get some sleep. Undoubtedly he would take unflattering photos of her and then fingerprint her.
“First things first,” he said. “How about you give me that explanation now.”
Great. She could have cleared this up at the store if only he would have listened. “As I said, Margaret Becker is my aunt. I’m working at Sew Fine now—”
“I’ve never seen you around town.”
“Because I just moved here from Chicago a few days ago.”
“Chicago, huh?” His thick eyebrows shot up. “Do you have some kind of identification?”
She glared at him. “I do, actually. In my purse! Which I accidentally locked in the blasted store!”
“No need to shout...what did you say your name was?”
“Kristen Lange.”
“Lange.” His expression shifted slightly. “Hmm.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have the same name as Aunt Margaret. She’s been married a few times.” Three times, actually. Divorced twice, and then widowed three years ago.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you were related to Brian Lange.”
“He’s my kid brother.” The police chief knew Brian? Why? Brian had only returned to Sparrow Lake from California a month before she’d come home. “And Heather Clarke is my younger sister.”
Heather was the only sibling who had lived in Sparrow Lake all her life. Kristen had left for school at eighteen and had gone on to a job in Chicago. She’d come back to Sparrow Lake for visits, of course, but she’d never intended to live here again. She’d had big plans for her future and had never wanted to feel like the failure she obviously was.
“Funny,” the police chief said. “You don’t look like Heather or Brian.”
“They resemble Mom. I’ve been told I look like our father.”
His gaze narrowed as he gave her face an intent once-over. “I don’t remember another Lange.”
“Because he hasn’t lived here for more than a decade.”
She wasn’t about to explain that their irresponsible father had walked out on his family, leaving his wife to fend for herself and three children. Two years ago, Mom had remarried and her husband’s new job had prompted a move to California for them and Brian, who’d been in high school.
“So you’re living with Margaret.”
“Temporarily.”
“Working for her.”
“Temporarily.”
“Not married?”
Resenting being grilled, Kristen frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
His eyebrows flicked and he seemed to be smothering a smile.
“I was wondering why you’re living with your aunt.”
“What business is that of yours?”
“Just trying to get all the facts, ma’am.”
Kristen sat back in her chair and fell silent. Now that she was able to see him clearly in the light, she realized he was a good-looking man, probably in his early thirties. He had dark hair, gray eyes, a slight cleft in his chin and a smile that would be nice if it wasn’t plastered sarcastically on his face.
Was it her imagination, or was Police Chief Alex Novak being just a little too personal here?
Her gaze went to his left hand—no ring—and then back to his speculative expression. He knew her aunt. He knew her sister. He knew her brother. So let me go home, already.
“Are you going to arrest me or not?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether Margaret Becker will vouch for you.” He looked beyond her. “And there she is now.”
“Aunt Margaret?”
Kristen twisted around in her seat and saw her aunt at the front desk, talking to the woman named Janet. Still dressed in what Kristen thought of as satin lounging pajamas, Aunt Margaret had merely put on a pair of sandals and thrown a light wrap around her shoulders for modesty before leaving the house. Neither Janet nor the officers who greeted her before going out the door seemed to think her manner of dress unusual.
Suddenly, Aunt Margaret marched toward the police chief’s office, her face set in a frown. To Kristen’s great relief, she saw the purse she’d left in the store in her aunt’s hands. Also to her relief, her aunt looked fine, not sick, after all.
“Alex, what is going on?” Margaret shifted her attention to Kristen. “Hello, honey.” She handed over Kristen’s purse. “What a terrible thing to have happen on your first day working for me.”
“So, this is your niece?”
“Of course she is, Alex. Who else would she be? Can’t you see the resemblance?”
Kristen smothered a smile. If there ever had been a resemblance between them, her aunt’s spiked red hair and penchant for bright colors like the orange-and-teal print of the pajamas she was wearing kind of smothered it.
To her irritation, although he was wearing a straight face, Alex said, “Yes, of course, Margaret. Your niece looks just like you.”
Aunt Margaret beamed. “Well, we’re going to be off now. Time to get some sleep. Come on, Kristen, I’ll drive you back to your car.”
“Hey, wait a minute—”
Aunt Margaret stopped dead in her tracks, narrowed her gaze on the police chief and added a slight chill to her tone. “Wait for what, Alex? You don’t have a problem with my niece, do you?”
“Uh, no, of course not.”
“Good. Then we’ll see you later.”
If Kristen wasn’t so tired, she would have laughed at the frustration on Alex Novak’s face. Whatever he’d been maneuvering for, he was disappointed.
That thought made her feel just a little better after he’d added more stress to her already disastrous evening.
* * *
“YOU’LL FEEL BETTER after you have something to eat,” Aunt Margaret promised as they entered the house through the kitchen entrance.
Kristen wasn’t so sure of that. Trying to deal with the police chief on top of her awful first day at the store had stressed her out enough for a month. “Maybe I should just go to bed.”
Her aunt was already in the refrigerator. “Never go to bed hungry. Have a little something.” She pulled out a covered container. “Macaroni and cheese?”
“All right.” Kristen couldn’t resist an old favorite comfort food after all she’d been through that night. “But just a little.”
She fetched a small bowl from a cabinet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had mac and cheese, maybe not since she’d been in school. It wasn’t the kind of dish she would have sought out in multi-ethnic Chicago, but in Wisconsin, it seemed perfect, Wisconsin being the cheese state and all.
“Just sit,” her aunt said, taking the bowl out of her hands and pulling a spoon from a drawer. “It’ll only take two minutes to heat up in the microwave.”
Kristen gladly sat on a stool at the marble-topped island and watched her aunt move around the huge designer kitchen she so rarely used.
From the outside, the classic French Normandy stone manor was entrenched in the landscape, as if it had overlooked the lake forever. The inside had been renovated by the previous owner—the kitchen and baths were only fifteen years old—but the style was still quite traditional. Too traditional for the artist in Aunt Margaret.
Kristen loved the house, but she didn’t feel at home here, not even in the huge guest suite. In addition to her bedroom and walk-in closet, she had a nice-sized sitting room and a spa-worthy bathroom. The guest suite was nearly as big as her own apartment had been, she thought morosely, remembering how the bank had foreclosed on her condo after she’d used up most of her savings.
“Here you go, honey.” Aunt Margaret set the bowl and a fork before her. “Eat up. Then you can get some sleep.”
“Thanks.”
Kristen’s mouth watered at the smell. Of course her aunt had overloaded the bowl with food, and she couldn’t possibly eat it all this late. She slid a forkful into her mouth and just let it melt there before swallowing. It tasted so good it nearly made her toes curl.
Her aunt slid onto a stool across from her. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I have an early meeting at the university tomorrow.”
Kristin took another forkful. “A faculty meeting?” And another.
“Actually, it’s with my dean. I’m turning in my resignation.”
Surprised, Kristen asked, “Why? I thought you loved teaching.”
The bowl was half-empty. She ought to stop now.
“I do love teaching, but I’m tired, honey. Teaching full-time and running the store have worn me out. I haven’t had the energy or time to do the things I want.”
“But Heather is managing the store now.” Her aunt was still teaching quilting classes and stepping in to work the store if someone called in sick, but that was nothing compared to managing the place.
“Your sister is a hard worker. I’m very grateful that she stepped up. But teaching full time...” She shook her head. “Even though I will resign, I can still be an adjunct in the department and teach a sketching or painting class a semester. It’s the students I love. What I don’t love is committee work. Thank goodness that as an adjunct I won’t have to go to all those boring meetings anymore.”
Kristen couldn’t imagine being without something to do every moment. Then again, her aunt had decades of that behind her. Nearing seventy, she deserved to slow down if she wanted. She simply didn’t act like a senior citizen. Didn’t look it, either. She kept her hair the same bright red it had always been, and she must be using some incredible skin products, because the only wrinkles she had were the welcoming smile lines around her striking hazel eyes.
“What will you do with all that extra time you’ll have?” Kristen asked, deciding that maybe she could have one more bite of the luscious mac and cheese.
“For one, I would like to make some plans to travel. And I want do something with this house to make it more livable.”
“Aunt Margaret, this place is great as it is,” Kristen said, though it was starting to look a little shabby in places and needed quite a bit of maintenance.
“You know, I’ve been wanting to transform it with color.”
Ever since her husband, Donald, had died, Aunt Margaret had threatened to paint the walls bright colors and perk up the whole place with pieces of art, but she hadn’t done anything yet. Not even normal maintenance. The only room her aunt had ever redesigned was her studio, and that must have been shortly after she’d married Donald and moved in with him.
“Sounds great,” Kristen said, putting the last forkful of food in her mouth. “We’ll have to talk more about it tomorrow when you get home.” Unbelievably, she’d finished every morsel. Tempted to lick the bowl clean, she restrained herself and took it and the fork to the sink, rinsed them and set them in the dishwasher. “Aunt Margaret, about the store window—”
“Don’t worry about it, honey, it’s easily fixed.”
“If you’ll tell me who to call, I’ll take care of it first thing when I get to the store.”
“All right. I’ll put the name and number of my handyman right here on the counter before I leave for the university in the morning. And I’ll call Heather, too, so she won’t be shocked.”
“Great.” Kristen yawned, then kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Now I need go pass out.”
Which is exactly what she did upon entering her room. She didn’t bother stripping down any further than removing her dirty suit jacket and skirt. She didn’t take a shower. She was falling-down exhausted. Thinking she could take care of any mess tomorrow, she simply turned off the light and fell face-forward onto the bed.
The moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.
* * *
ALEX SAW THE light go out on the east side of the house. Kristen Lange’s room? The patrol car’s engine running, he sat on the road a hundred yards from Margaret Becker’s home, a small mansion compared to most homes in this community.
He hadn’t meant to come this way tonight, but heading for home from the station, he’d stopped at a convenience store for some food for Spike, a stray cat he’d been taking care of, then found himself taking the long way around the lake. He’d tried convincing himself that he was checking on the Lange kid, Kristen’s brother. But he didn’t figure he would find Brian skulking around at this hour.
He had to admit it was the woman herself who interested him right now. Kristen Lange didn’t seem like a typical small-town girl coming back to her roots. Although he wasn’t exactly small town, either.
Maybe it was the Chicago connection that drew him to her. There were aspects of the big city he didn’t miss, but there were others he did. Plus, most of his family still lived in Chicago. Unless it was rush hour or construction season, it was only a ninety-minute drive away, so he got back to see them often enough.
Still, the women here were softer, less likely to give him a run for his money. They didn’t have that edge that attracted him. He needed a challenge in his life that had nothing to do with work, and Kristen Lange was spicy enough to make him anticipate their next encounter.
* * *
MARGARET POURED HERSELF a glass of lemonade and sat in the small bay window off the living room overlooking Sparrow Lake. She and Donald had spent many pleasant evenings together there, just talking and enjoying the view. After two bad marriages that had ended in divorce, she’d finally found her soul mate in Donald. When she’d lost him, she’d bought the quilting store and had thrown herself into managing it, in addition to teaching, to fill the empty spaces in her life.
But now her life wasn’t so empty.
When Heather’s husband had been killed in Iraq, the poor girl had been devastated. She’d also been left with twin toddlers. Margaret had given her niece a job at Sew Fine and all the emotional aid she had needed, and now Heather was like a daughter to her. Her nephew, Brian, had moved back from California to go to college in Wisconsin, and she’d opened her doors, giving him a place to live and a part-time job at the store. Finally, Kristen had come home after more than ten years, though her niece thought it was simply to recoup and regroup before going back out into the dog-eat-dog business world.
Margaret had plans for Kristen. She’d feigned sickness so that her niece would immediately get wrapped up in the business end of Sew Fine. Smiling at the thought, she toasted the lake that held Donald’s ashes.
“I’ll always love you, my darling,” she whispered. “And I’ll see you again one day, but for now I have to move on and discover new possibilities.”
Margaret was thinking how nice a new man in her life would be.
As hard as it was for a strong and usually independent woman to admit, she had loved the excitement of a romance. Her first two marriages had been fun and exciting until they weren’t anymore, the reason she’d ended them. They’d been short-lived, but she had nothing to regret.
And then she’d met Donald.
Margaret sighed. She would never meet another Donald, of course. But maybe someone nice to keep her company once in a while wouldn’t be too much to ask.
That, and new possibilities for her lovely niece, who had become too serious, too driven and too obsessed with the idea of being a failure ever since Margaret’s younger brother, Sam, had abandoned his family.
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU WERE TRYING to do what?” Heather asked, as she stared up at Sew Fine’s broken window. Then she took a good look at Kristen and snickered. “Dressed in your designer duds? I would have paid to see that.”
“It wasn’t all that funny, believe me. Especially not when the police chief caught me.”
“Alex caught you?”
Alex? So her sister knew him on a first-name basis. And from the sound of Heather’s voice, she was highly amused by the idea of Alex having the upper hand.
“He’s an impossible man. Wouldn’t listen to a word I had to say until he got me down to the station.”
Heather snorted. “Did he handcuff you?”
“Get that suggestive tone out of your voice! There was nothing even vaguely fun or amusing about what happened to me. Alex Novak is a bully.”
“Really,” her sister drawled.
Kristen took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. Heather was being Heather, trying to drive her nuts, just as she had since they were kids.
They were adults now, and Heather had matured in other ways, managing the business and working toward a college degree while being a great mother. Matured, except for the way she presented herself. She still wore mostly jeans, sweatshirts or sweaters and running shoes. Her fine-boned face was make-up free other than a swipe of lip gloss, and her long, thick, light-brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. Still loyal to her late husband’s memory, Heather might dress this way on purpose, Kristen thought. Even so, Heather was attractive now, but with a little work she could be stunning. Then again, stunning would be hard to maintain while running after five-year-old twins.
Pulling the note Aunt Margaret had left from her pocket, Kristen said, “I need to get the window fixed. I already called this Chuck Hansen before leaving the house, but he hasn’t returned my call.”
“Maybe he ignored it because you called from your cell and he doesn’t have that number.”
“Maybe.”
While Kristen made her call from the store phone, the first customer of the morning entered and engaged Heather.
Not so happily, Kristen had to leave a second message on Chuck’s cell.
“Hi, this Kristen Lange again, calling about the broken window at Sew Fine. I should be here all day, so as soon as you get this, I would appreciate a return call. Thank you.”
The handyman didn’t need to know who broke the window or why, though she wouldn’t be surprised if word had already gotten out and was spreading around town. She could imagine the Chief taking delight in sharing the tale with his buddies.
She saw him in her mind’s eye, snarky smile pulling up the corners of his mouth....
The bell above the front door tinkled. Kristen looked that way to see another customer come in and start browsing through fabrics.
Then a black-and-white vehicle outside the store caught her attention. Kristen blinked. That was a patrol car. So why was it sitting there, as if the officer behind the wheel had an eye on the store?
Who exactly was out there? The police chief himself?
What in the world did he think he was doing, casing the store?
She started toward the front door, but before she could get close enough to check, the squad car pulled away from the curb and drove off.
She didn’t want to think about the man who had been so miserable to her in the middle of her crisis, anyway, Kristen told herself. She would concentrate on business. She went to the rear of the store—the “office” area—and sat at the desk. She started the computer, thinking to pick up where she’d left off at one in the morning.
Aunt Margaret had asked her to familiarize herself with Sew Fine and see if she had any ideas on how to grow the business.
Three years ago, with a newly earned MBA, she’d gotten a position in marketing with Chicago Lifestyle, a small sporting goods company. In less than a year, she’d been promoted to director of marketing and had helped double sales. But when the economy had taken another dip the following year, the company had “reorganized” and she had been out of a job.
Doing Aunt Margaret’s bidding was actually her kind of thing and allowed her to keep her talents sharp while looking for a real job.
The store itself was huge. Bolts of fabric and notions took up one side of the space. On the other side of the aisle were a dozen long tables with sewing machines, doubled to face each other, so women taking classes could chat. Sample quilts and smaller quilted pieces hung on both walls, making the store warm and inviting.
Working that long day yesterday had given Kristen a pretty good overview of how the business worked.
Sew Fine was open six days a week with late hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays for quilting classes. And there were two classes on Saturdays, one for kids, the other for teens. Training them to be lifelong customers, she thought. Great long-tail marketing idea there.
The store seemed to be doing a comfortable business for the number of people employed. Heather was the only full-time employee. Gloria Vega and Louise Powell each worked twenty hours a week, and Kristen’s brother Brian ran errands and cleaned up in the store two or three hours a day. The advanced quilting class was taught by Aunt Margaret. Kristen wondered if she would continue teaching now that she wanted to retire, or if they would need to find someone to replace her.
The profit after paying the staff definitely could be better for Aunt Margaret. She would get a pension from the university, of course, but that huge house of hers probably chewed up her cash on a regular basis. She’d used the money Donald had left her to pay off the mortgage and the exorbitant taxes. And as Kristen had already realized, the house needed work.
No doubt this was the reason her aunt wanted some ideas about growing the business. Aunt Margaret might fear she would have to sell the house if she couldn’t raise the store’s income. Having lost her own home to the economy, Kristen wasn’t about to let that happen to someone she loved, a senior citizen who deserved to retire in comfort and security.
The first thing she could do was to get a better sales system in place for customers who called in orders. Now, whoever answered the phone wrote the customer’s name and what she wanted on a piece of paper. Kristen looked through the box of scraps that held unfulfilled orders. An archaic and fallible system. She would start by installing a simple computer program so the person taking the order could enter the details. Then someone should be assigned to checking orders and fulfilling them on a specific day every week. Regular customers would be on file, as well, and their information automatically brought up via a database. The same database could be used for mailings.
“Aren’t your eyes crossing from being on that computer so many hours yesterday?”
Kristen started. Both customers had left the store, and Heather was standing over her. “They are a bit tired.” Having managed little more than six hours sleep, she was tired. No late night, working or otherwise, for her today.
“So take a break. We’ve hardly had a chance to talk since you got here.”
“It’s not like we haven’t talked in ages,” Kristen said, thinking of their weekly Sunday-night phone calls.
“But now I can see you.”
“Okay, okay.” Kristen smothered a yawn. “I need coffee anyway.”
Heather poured two cups. “You seem to be taking to working here.”
Kristen didn’t want to get her sister’s hopes up. “It’s only temporary, you know. Until I get on my feet.” She took her mug from Heather. “Then I’m going to start job hunting again.”
That was the agreement she’d made with Aunt Margaret. She would work here while sending out her résumé and driving into Chicago for interviews. If she could get them.
“You’re going to look for a job in Chicago?” Heather asked, her voice filled with disappointment.
“That is my home.”
“Not anymore.”
“You mean, not at the moment.” Kristen sipped her coffee, willing it to give her extra energy to get through the day.
She was hoping to be back in a new job and a new Chicago apartment before winter. Surely that would give her enough time to help grow Sew Fine into a more viable business.
“What have you got against living here?” Heather demanded. “I miss you. Aunt Margaret misses you. And now that Brian is back, he would miss you if you left again.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t Brian supposed to be working this morning?” Kristen had thought he could sweep up the broken glass.
“Brian doesn’t always keep to schedule.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Heather was the manager, after all, Kristen thought.
“He is very helpful, Kristen. He’ll do anything I ask of him.”
“When he’s here.”
“So I give him a break. He’s had a hard couple of years since Mom remarried and moved to California.”
“Losing his friends in the middle of his freshman year of high school must have been difficult,” Kristen admitted.
“Not to mention he lost his job. Mom used to call him the man of the house. You remember that, don’t you? Even as a little kid, he took on a lot of responsibility, so he wouldn’t let her down. Well, maybe you don’t really know, because you went away to college so soon after Dad left. Mom was so proud of Brian. Mom thought it was great that he didn’t have to keep that responsibility anymore when she married Mike, but I’m not so sure.”
Kristen understood completely. “Brian lost his identity.” He must have felt as if he had failed their mother. Just as Kristen had failed at the career she’d so wanted.
Now Kristen felt even worse about Brian than she had before. Their kid brother could probably barely remember having a father in his life, and then when their mother had remarried, he hadn’t taken to his stepfather. According to Mom, Mike and Brian had been continually at odds. No doubt Brian resented having a man tell him what to do if he’d considered himself the man of the house all his young life. Her mother had mentioned increasing problems with Brian and decided the only way to make the kid happy was to let him go to college in Wisconsin.
According to Aunt Margaret, Brian could do no wrong. The change in address had seemingly made the difference. Now if only he would get to work on time.
And if only she would get a new job even better than the one she’d had.
Kristen said, “You can all come down to Chicago to see me for more than a day or two, you know. And I can come back here more weekends than I did before. It’s not that I don’t like Sparrow Lake, because I do, but there’s no opportunity here for me to prove myself.”
“You always had more drive than anyone I know. Except for Mom, if in a different way. She was always working, too.”
“To support us,” Kristen reminded her. “You know Mom didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have a career when Dad left. She had to take whatever job she could get.”
Which for years had been two and three part-time jobs all at once to make ends meet. Kristen had vowed then to get an education that would provide her with enough security so she never had to scrape by. She would never be a failure like her father, who couldn’t seem to succeed at anything, not even at having a family. Losing her job, then her savings and finally her home had been humiliating to someone with her work ethic.
She had to get back everything she’d lost. It was a matter of pride.
She just needed a time-out first.
“Have you heard from Jason?” Heather asked.
Okay, he was one thing she’d lost that she didn’t want back. “No, why would I?”
“You were together for nearly three years.”
“And I was fooled into thinking he loved me.” At least, that’s what he’d told her. “When you care for a person, you support them, good times or bad. He didn’t want to hear about my job search or my fear that I would lose my condo when I went through my savings. He wanted me to be the same bright, busy working woman who supported him emotionally.”
Eventually, he’d simply moved on to someone less complicated, though of course the way he put it was I’m doing this for you because you’re using me as a crutch and you need to stand on your own two feet.
Right.
Soured on relationships, Kristen would focus all her energies on rebuilding her career. She’d always known she had to learn to rely on herself, and nothing in her experience had changed her mind.
* * *
ALEX PARKED IN his spot in front of the police station and hurried inside to meet with Officer Owen Larson. After his late-night adventure, Alex had slept in. On the way here, he’d stopped in front of Sew Fine for a moment. He hadn’t been able to help himself. Part of him had wanted to go in and see if Kristen Lange was as feisty as he remembered. He hadn’t been able to put her out of mind.
He stopped at the desk. “Is Owen in?”
Before the receptionist could answer, Owen called, “Over here!”
Alex waved and walked back to the desk where Owen was checking his smartphone. His buddy was twenty-six but looked closer to sixteen with reddish hair, freckles and a wiry body that had little discernible bulk. Looks could be deceiving. As slight as he appeared, Owen had incredible muscle strength, could bench press his own weight and dead lift even more. He was fast on his feet and could jump a fence without hesitating. He’d been the star of the high school cross-country team and a champion in college.
“You’re late,” Owen said. “What’s up?”
“Late night.”
“So I heard.” Owen set his phone down, but he kept one eye on it.
“Expecting a call?” Alex asked.
“A text.”
Alex didn’t have to ask from whom. Owen and his new wife, Trina, had to text each other love notes all day. As long as Owen wasn’t behind the wheel of a patrol car when he did so, that was fine with Alex. Owen had become his good friend in the two years since he’d left the city and moved to Sparrow Lake, and he’d even been best man for Owen’s wedding a few months back. Though he was younger than Alex, Owen seemed to have his life far more together. Owen now had a wife he loved and plans to start a family.
“So what’s with you and Margaret’s niece?” Owen asked.
Alex frowned at him. “I caught her breaking into her aunt’s store, and I brought her in for questioning.”
“I hear there was more to it. A little something special going on between you two?”
Wishful thinking. Alex hadn’t had anything going on with any woman for far too long. “Who’s making up stories now?”
“Janet. She said the way you looked at the Lange woman and the tone you used when you spoke to her made them all think there was more to the story than you were telling.”
“They just need something juicy to chew over. A new woman in town fits the bill.”
“I might believe you, but—”
“What?”
“That expression on your face now. I know you too well, buddy. You may not have anything going yet, emphasis on the yet, but you’re sure thinking about it.”
Owen meant well, and he wasn’t wrong, but Alex wasn’t about to start talking about a woman he didn’t even know yet.
“Any new reports about the pranks being pulled around town last night?” Alex asked.
“Not last night.” Owen sighed. “At nine-fifteen this morning, the fire truck showed up at the library to find someone had pulled the alarm. Of course there was no fire. Not even a wisp of smoke.”
Alex shook his head in disgust. “I wonder where Brian Lange was at nine-fifteen.” And he wondered if Brian’s sister could tell him. That might be a sticking point in getting to know her better.
“If we could catch Brian and Matt and Andy in the act—”
“We could put the fear of jail time in them before they go too far.”
They talked for a bit about the situation with the boys running wild. Something bad had been brewing in this area of the state since the summer before. Alex had heard rumors of drug trafficking, and there had been a few armed robberies in nearby towns. He wasn’t about to let anything like that go down here in his town.
Sparrow Lake was pretty much crime free. So far.
Owen got to his feet. “I’d better get back to work or my boss might fire me.”
Alex grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. But once the officer left the station, Alex found himself brooding over the problem.
Since Brian Lange had moved back to town the month before, he’d been hanging out with two high school students a year younger than he was. Alex had seen the three of them together, and to his way of thinking, the local boys idolized the California transplant and would do anything to impress him. Since his return, all kinds of odd events had started happening. Pranks that made people angry. The three boys had been sighted several times in the areas where pranks had been pulled, although no one had actually seen them in action.
Nothing serious. Yet.
And Alex wanted to make sure it stayed that way by nipping trouble in the bud.
While on the job in Chicago, he’d seen terrible things happen to kids because no one got in their way when they started down the wrong path. Things that destroyed their futures. Things that took away any future they might have at all.
That was the reason he’d left Chicago. He’d been part of a gang unit in the Chicago Police Department, and they’d been dealing with a crime in progress. A crazed, drug-ridden kid had fired at his team and then had pointed a gun straight at Alex. Instinct had kicked in faster than he’d had time to blink, and he’d fired his own weapon. He’d been in the right. Had done exactly as he’d been trained to do. After the investigation, he’d been exonerated. None of that mattered, not even the fact that the kid had survived.
Alex had kind of gone crazy after that.
Haunted by the what-ifs, he swore he wouldn’t let the kids here, in his town, get on such a self-destructive road when he could steer them down a more positive path before it was too late.
Feeling down just thinking about Chicago, he went to his office and tried to bury himself in paperwork, but he simply couldn’t concentrate. He needed a distraction, something to take away the dark cloud that hung over him. Something to make him smile.
A few minutes later, he found himself in his squad car heading back to Sew Fine.
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU WERE SCHEDULED to work at nine this morning,” Kristen told Brian when he finally strolled in the door just before noon.
“I was? Oh, sorry. The time must have slipped my mind.”
He gave her an innocent expression, yet Kristen couldn’t tell if it was genuine. He was still a kid, though, and needed some guidelines.
Kristen sighed. “Maybe you should add your work schedule to the calendar on your phone.”
“I’ll do that.” Brian kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, sis.”
Okay, how mad at him could she be? Instead of chastising him, she gave him a big hug.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“I just missed you, is all.” She’d missed a lot of things while he was growing up, as Heather had reminded her.
His answering smile lit up his big blue eyes. He would be handsome if only he would grow out his faux-Mohawk haircut. The sides were sheared short and the top was spiked, making his already narrow face seem thinner. Not that she would make any suggestions in the haircut department and chance hurting his feelings.
Brian asked, “So what do you want me to do first?”
Not having wanted to leave the shards of glass from the window on the floor any longer, she’d swept them up herself. And after her talk about Brian with Heather, she’d gotten a better idea of how she could make him feel like a more important member of the Sew Fine team—by giving him more responsibility. Heather had enthusiastically agreed.
So Kristen asked, “How would you like to be in charge of fulfilling orders for the store?”
“What? You mean be a clerk? I don’t know anything about quilting.”
Kristen jiggled the box of orders written on scraps of paper. “I mean fulfill these. We need someone to be in charge of phoned-in orders, to make sure they all go out once each week.”
“You want me to be in charge of something?” Brian sounded surprised.
“Why not? This is a family business, and you’re part of the family.”
“Yeah, okay. What do I do?”
“Round up the items being ordered. If you need material cut, or you need to know what an item is or where to find it, ask Heather or Gloria. You’ll get the hang of how the store is organized fast enough. When you have everything in an order, package it and go on to the next one. When you complete all of the orders, sort them into store pick-up or mail. Then you can run the orders that need to be mailed over to the post office.”
Brian grinned and nodded. “I can do that.”
“Great. I’m installing a computer program so future orders will be more organized, but in the meantime, good luck with these.” She handed him the box.
Not looking in the least daunted, Brian took the handwritten orders over to one of the class tables and started sorting through them. Maybe having actual responsibility would make Brian feel more needed at the store, and encourage him to keep to the hours he was scheduled.
She’d assured her brother that he would quickly learn how the store was organized, something she hadn’t yet explored. She needed to know exactly what they were selling so she could get some marketing ideas. With that in mind, she decided to stretch her legs and take a more thorough look for herself.
Heather and Gloria were both busy with customers. As had happened yesterday around noon, the customers seemed to multiply, no doubt taking advantage of their lunch hours. So, thinking to get a more thorough idea of their product lines and whether or not they could display goods more effectively or perhaps offer some kind of incentive to customers, Kristen decided to check out the stock on her own.
Closest to the office space were shelves of books and videos about quilting. A half-dozen colorful baskets held samples of the patterns that were stored in a file cabinet. Notions—rulers, cutting tools, pins and needles, and spools of thread—took up the center of the store. And brilliantly colored fabrics were displayed closest to the windows to take advantage of the natural light. It was only when she was admiring some batik prints that she noticed a black-and-white patrol car stop next to the curb directly outside the store.
Pulse humming, she ducked down to take a better look at the driver...just as Police Chief Alex Novak looked back.
Was he checking up on her?
Without thinking it through, Kristen left the store to find out. Through the windshield, she could see that his expression changed, as if he hadn’t expected a confrontation. And then, appearing resigned, he got out of the vehicle. She came face-to-face with him curbside. His feet were still planted on the street, while she was on the higher curb, so they were actually eye to eye. Not that she could see the soft gray color of his eyes through his dark sunglasses.
“Is there a problem, Chief?”
“Alex, please.”
He was wearing a uniform today, looking unbelievably good in stark black. Not wanting to be attracted to him, she swallowed hard. “Okay, Alex, do you have a problem with me?”
“Why would you think that?”
“This is the second time today that you stopped in front of the store, as if you were casing it. Or maybe you’re expecting me to be doing something not to your liking. Maybe you just want to arrest me again.”
The way he was staring at her intently, as if he wanted to say something but was reluctant, made her mouth go dry. Was he really not going to explain himself? The way he was staring at her was so...so personal.
Her pulse quickened, and she was about to demand an answer, when he said, “When I drove around back, I noticed the glass in that window was still missing.”
“And?”
“I wondered why.”
“And I’ve been wondering why Aunt Margaret’s handyman hasn’t returned my calls. Three of them.” She couldn’t help sounding a little exasperated. “That’s why. So is having a window with no glass illegal in Sparrow Lake?”
“Just risky. You never know who might try to crawl in through an open window.”
Heat rose along her neck as she remembered the way he’d caught her the night before. Did he enjoy embarrassing her? She thought so.
“Thanks for the observation, Chief, but as long as it’s not illegal...”
She didn’t finish the statement. His eyebrows flashed upward over the tops of his sunglasses, and he looked as if he wanted to say something more. But in the end, he gave her one of those sarcastic smiles that irritated her and touched the front of his cap before backing off.
“Have a good day, ma’am.”
She stood there, feet glued to the curb, as he got into the patrol car and drove off. No man had ever made her feel so uptight before. What was with that? Tension gradually flowed out of her body, and she retreated back inside the store.
Now what had she been doing before she’d seen Alex out there? Oh, right, taking a mental inventory of the store’s wares. Her mind had gone blank. Instead of product, it was filled with Alex Novak’s face. The way his mouth always seemed ready to curl in a smile. Or was it a smirk? She shook away the image and forced herself to concentrate on work.
Happy to see that Brian was gathering items to fulfill those orders, she went back to the office area to search the internet for the computer program that she wanted to install.
Glancing back to Brian, however, she hesitated. Rather than working, he was now reading something on his cell phone. She knew he was into the whole social networking thing. He was always checking his phone and sending off messages to his friends. Nothing wrong with that—all the kids and many adults did it—but he was supposed to be working now. About to say so, Kristen stopped when Brian slipped the cell back into his pocket and got to work on an order.
Okay, then. Back to work for her.
She had the ability to concentrate even in the midst of chaos. Sew Fine was fairly calm compared to the office she’d last worked in. As she clicked on internet links to check out several potential programs, she heard the entrance door opening and closing, customer questions being answered about the pros and cons of using patterns as opposed to kits, soft laughter coming from someone at the other end of the store. Nothing affected her concentration.
Not until a jarring noise came from directly behind her on the other side of the back wall, as if someone was stomping on loose boards.
Kristen tried to ignore the noise, and for a moment it went away. Then a rough, grating sound scraped straight down her spine.
“What the...?”
She turned to see movement on the other side of the broken window. Had the handyman simply shown up and started the job without telling anyone? But wait...the person wielding a tool that scraped the frame was dressed in black.
Suspicion made her hackles rise. Lunging out of her chair, she made for the back door and threw it open only to find Alex, a rectangle of glass in hand, standing on the Dumpster. He was trying to set glass into the empty window pane.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He gave her a quick glance before returning his attention to his task. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you.”
He sighed. “I figured you wouldn’t, but that doesn’t stop me from being polite.”
Realizing she’d let her temper best her when it seemed he was simply trying to do her a favor, Kristen took a big breath to calm herself. What was wrong with her? She never used to be like this. Then, again, she’d never run into an Alex Novak before. Now he was using some kind of a tool to push little pieces of metal into the frame, undoubtedly meant to hold the glass in place.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said and meant it. “You just...well, kind of startled me, is all.”
He glanced her way again and grinned. “You weren’t ready for me, huh?”
Not sure any woman would be, she asked, “Did Aunt Margaret call you to take care of the window?”
“No one had to ask me.” He rolled a cord of white stuff around the glass frame and used the tool to press it in place. “I could see you needed a little help. You couldn’t get Margaret’s handyman to return your calls, and I assumed you wanted the place locked up and the alarm set tonight.”
“Well, yes, of course.”
He used another tool to remove any goopy stuff off the glass. “And I don’t want to have to respond to a burglary in progress, so I’m taking the easy way out.”
Kristen realized he was done when he jumped from the Dumpster and landed next to her. And she realized she’d sounded ungrateful for a charitable act.
“Well, thank you, Alex. I mean that sincerely.”
He set the sunglasses back in his hair and cocked his head, his gray eyes going soft as they swept over her face. It put a knot in Kristen’s stomach.
“You’ll have to get someone to paint the compound and touch up the frame. Wait a couple of days, though, so the compound has time to dry out.”
“Okay.”
“In the meantime, I’ll take a look at your alarm system, make sure it’ll work now.”
Kristen followed him inside and watched as he pulled a chair under the window and stood on it. Glancing around the store, she realized that no one was paying them any mind. Alex checked something attached to the window frame then stepped down.
“Looks all right,” he said, returning the chair to where he found it.
“Well, thank you again.”
She noticed his attention was elsewhere. He wore a speculative expression. Alex seemed to be focused on Brian, who was still working on filling those orders. Undoubtedly he was surprised to see a teenage boy working in a store frequented mostly by women.
When Alex turned his gaze back to her, Kristen said, “If there’s ever anything I can do for you—”
“There is.” A slow, easy grin lit his face. “You can have dinner with me.”
Though her pulse fluttered at the thought, she frowned in response. “Dinner?”
“You know, that’s when you eat to satisfy those hunger pangs in the evening hours.”
“Um, I don’t—”
“Eat?”
“I was going to say that I don’t think it would be appropriate.”
“Which part?”
“My dating you to pay you for fixing the glass.”
“That’s not exactly what I was asking you to do.”
“What, then?”
“I just want to get to know you better.”
Tempted, Kristen swallowed hard. She had to admit the police chief had more going for him than she’d first thought and not just in the looks department. He might be a little snarky at times, but he was a well-intentioned person. His fixing the window had been very thoughtful. But she’d had a purpose in moving to Sparrow Lake, and it certainly wasn’t to find a man. She wasn’t going to be here that long, anyway. A few months at most. Getting involved romantically would just complicate things.
Alex cleared his throat. “About dinner?”
“I appreciate your interest, but I don’t think it’s a good idea under any circumstances.”
His expression went neutral when he asked, “Any particular reason?”
Realizing she might have offended the man again, Kristen assured him, “It’s not you, Alex. I simply have too much on my plate right now to be indulging in any kind of extracurricular activities.”
“Wow, that sounds sad.”
“What’s sad about my being focused?”
“On work?”
“Aren’t you focused on your job?” Which he ought to be, considering he was chief of police, Kristen thought.
“Within reason. But...hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll just leave now.”
“Good... I mean...all right. And thanks again.”
If he heard her, he didn’t respond, simply headed out the door.
And Kristen quickly deflated. Turning back to her computer, she realized Aunt Margaret was standing there, had probably caught the whole show.
“Aunt Margaret, I didn’t realize you were coming in this afternoon.”
“I just came back from my meeting with the dean.”
Indeed, Aunt Margaret was dressed more conventionally than usual in a skirted suit. Of course, she’d added a purple-and-blue flower-print blouse and matching earrings.
“So what are you doing here?”
“I just thought I would check in to see how things were going.” Aunt Margaret arched her eyebrows. “Which seems to be in an interesting direction for you.”
Desperate to get her aunt talking about anything but Alex, Kristen asked, “How did your meeting go?”
Her aunt gave her a look that said she knew Kristen was avoiding. Then she said, “Dean Whitiker was very cordial, and of course he understood that I needed time to do other things.”
“So you’ll still be able to teach a few classes if you want?”
“He seemed amenable to the idea.” Her aunt looked up. “I see the window is fixed. What time did Chuck get here?”
“Actually, your handyman never got back to me.”
Appearing surprised, Aunt Margaret asked, “Then how—”
“Alex.”
“Really. The chief of police fixed our store window? And how did that happen?”
Kristen explained, telling her aunt about their earlier encounter and then Alex’s showing up to replace the pane of glass.
“I do believe he’s sweet on you.”
“Is not!”
Her aunt laughed. “You’re certain of that?”
“Well, it wouldn’t matter if he was.” Kristen threw herself back into her desk chair. “I can’t get involved with anyone from Sparrow Lake.”
“Why ever not?”
Hearing her aunt’s indignant tone, Kristen thought she was on a roll, insulting people when she didn’t mean to. She tried to explain in a nonconfrontational way. “I have nothing against anyone here, but you know I’m leaving as soon as I find a new job in Chicago. I have to get my career back on track.” She would show everyone that she could do it. Her former bosses, the business associates who’d no longer had time for her, the friends who’d come to her emotional aid but had looked at her with pity. “I don’t believe in long-distance relationships. They never work out.”
“Relationships are more important than careers, sweetheart.”
“You couldn’t prove that by me.”
“Just remember that a job can’t take you in its arms for a hug when you need one.”
Her aunt, the romantic, Kristen thought. Aunt Margaret might have found her true love in Donald Becker, but Kristen hadn’t forgotten how Jason had abandoned her in her hour of need.
Much the same way her father had abandoned his whole family.
* * *
THOUGH SHE’D SWORN she was going to leave the store early that evening, Kristen ended up hanging around long enough for one of the quilting classes to start. Gloria was teaching a beginner/intermediate session in the back and there were five women seated around the large table there. Kristen knew two of the women, but the others had probably moved to town after she’d left for college.
“This is Margaret’s niece, Kristen,” Gloria told them, her dark eyes bright. “She’s here to help her aunt with the store.”
Kristen nodded at Nellie Martin, an elderly woman wearing large black-framed glasses. She owned the consignment shop a couple of streets over. “Hi, Nellie, it’s good to see you again. I’ve come to love consignment stores.” She’d frequented a couple in Chicago where she’d gotten most of her designer duds at a significant discount.
“Well, then, drop by and we’ll get reacquainted,” Nellie told her.
Kristen moved on to the next woman at the large table, a mousy little middle-aged woman in a gray dress. Emily Auerbach was the mayor’s wife.
“How nice that you take classes here,” murmured Kristen, to which Emily merely nodded with a tight smile.
Emily always had been more than a little eccentric, as Kristen had realized when she was a kid. On Halloween one year, Emily had posted “Keep Away” and “No Candy Here” signs on her lawn. The next year she’d decorated. No signs. Still, one of Kristen’s friends had insisted Emily was a real witch, and all the kids had avoided her.
Gloria introduced her to one of the new women in town—Shara Lessley, a beautiful young African-American woman with a headful of tiny braids. The other was Laurie Jamison, a thin redhead. Kristen tried to connect descriptions with names so she could remember them. Even so, she would be lucky if her tired brain recalled anyone.
“Are you an artist like your aunt?” Shara asked.
Kristen shook her head. “Good grief, no. I’m a businesswoman.” She admired the gorgeous metallic printed fabrics Shara was working with. “Is that a quilt?”
“It’s going to be a quilted wall hanging.”
“You ought to learn to quilt,” Nellie told Kristen. “It’s not that hard. Just work on a simple square to begin with.”
“Or a place mat or pillow covering,” Gloria agreed. “I like to see a quilter take on a whole project to begin with, even if it’s small.”
“I don’t know,” said Kristen with a laugh, happy to realize the women were dedicated to their craft. Her aunt had told her that at least one person from Sew Fine’s classes won a ribbon at the county fair every year. “I’ve never so much as taken up a hem. I don’t think sewing is one of my talents.”
“Nonsense, everyone can sew if they try.” Gloria raised her brows. “And knowing something about quilting could help you with the business end of things. Why don’t you sit down and join the class?”
“That would be wonderful,” added Shara, the others nodding in agreement. “We could use some new blood. We’ve been hanging out together for a couple of years now.”
Then it was more like a quilting circle than a class, Kristen decided. She didn’t want to stay any longer, especially not tonight. However, she agreed to at least drop by the class again next week. Before she left, Gloria plunked a prepackaged kit of color-coordinated strips in her hands.
“What’s this?”
“Just take them home and play with the fabric, the colors and the designs.”
Kristen objected, “Well, I can’t just take this. I have to pay...”
“Don’t worry, I’ll write the kit down for the records, Ms. Businessperson,” Gloria told her.
“Well, okay...”
“Try it, you’ll like it.”
Gloria sure could be a compelling salesperson, Kristen admitted, heading home. Sew Fine was lucky to have her. Kristen even opened the package of material strips and spread them out on the bed before she went to sleep. In shades of blue and turquoise and contrasting green, they certainly were pretty. But not only was quilting out of her sphere of knowledge, it took too long to finish anything.
Longer than she would be in Sparrow Lake.
* * *
ALEX WASN’T ONE to give up easily when he wanted something. And it seemed he wanted to get to know Kristen Lange even more than he’d originally realized. Just trying to have a simple conversation with her was a challenge. He could only wonder what spending time with her would be like. Undoubtedly, she would dispute everything the way she had when he’d caught her breaking into Sew Fine.
If she knew about his current investigation, she wouldn’t be happy. And if she had accepted his dinner invitation, he would have felt obligated to tell her about it, considering her brother was involved.
Not that Brian Lange seemed like a bad kid.
Alex had seen how hard Brian was working in the store. And he’d heard Margaret sing the kid’s praises more than once.
So why was Brian looking for trouble with Matt Stapleton and Andy Eccles?
Nellie Martin had been the first to make a formal complaint. Someone had mixed a rainbow of clashing colors and styles on the consignment store’s mannequins. One was wearing lingerie on top of its outer clothing, while another sported a purple feather boa over what appeared to be a raincoat. He’d had to force himself to keep a straight face on that one. Women’s styles were so crazy at times, he hadn’t even been certain that mischief was afoot, and Nellie wore a pair of what seemed to be fairly strong glasses. He’d wondered if the aging woman simply had trouble with her eyesight and had dressed the mannequins in dim light, then had been horrified to see her work the next day. After all, there hadn’t been a break-in—Nellie had admitted she’d left in a hurry and may have forgotten to lock up.
But then the other calls started coming.
Old Mr. Fergus had risen one morning to find two panels of his picket fence had been pulled out of the ground and were lying neatly on his front lawn. What was he supposed to do? He was too old to put them back himself, and he couldn’t afford to hire someone to do the work.
Feeling sorry for the old guy, Alex had asked for volunteers at the department to help the man, and both Walt and Jack had agreed to put the fence back together again. While Alex’s officers worked, Mr. Fergus had speculated on who could have done the deed. He’d seen Matt and Andy and “that new boy” hanging around outside at dusk and had thought nothing of it at the time. But after the fence incident, he had wondered, making Alex wonder, too.
A speculation that had put the spotlight right on the trio as the incidents—and sightings of one or more of the three teenagers—had increased. Alex could only figure they were bored and looking for ways to entertain themselves. If he could actually catch them in the act, he could put the fear of the law in them, force them into choosing reparation and community service or make them go before a judge, something he really didn’t want to do. He simply wanted to change their direction into a more positive one before things got out of hand. Then he would have no choice. He would be forced to arrest them.
Truth be told, the night before he’d been going down the alley behind Sew Fine looking for signs of mischief.
Alex hadn’t been at all prepared to find it in Brian’s sister.
What a conundrum. He’d wanted to catch Brian in the act; he simply wanted to catch Kristen.
Two goals at odds with each other.
Though he’d known Kristen for less than twenty-four hours, he was certain that, if he arrested her brother, she would have nothing to do with him.
What to do?
CHAPTER FIVE
ALEX DIDN’T APPROACH her for a date again, but in the next few days, Kristen swore she saw him more than anyone other than her aunt or siblings. No matter where she was—home, store or just walking through town—she saw Alex cruise by her in the patrol car.
Slowly.
She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered.
Then she found herself looking for Alex every time she was out on the street. And sometimes she looked out Sew Fine’s windows to see if she could spot a patrol car anywhere around.
That’s what she was doing late one morning the following week when her sister joined her at the window.
“What are you looking for?” Heather asked, scanning the area outside the store.
“Oh, nothing. I was just stretching my legs.”
“Huh. You’ve been doing a lot of that the past week.”
“I get tired of sitting so much.” Not wanting to talk about her paranoia over Alex, Kristen started back to the office area.
Right on her heels, Heather said, “Then get away from that computer and start working in the store.”
“I only know a little about quilting.”
“You can learn more. That’s why you’re taking Gloria’s class, right?”
“I’m not exactly taking it. I’m just checking things out. If I understand the classes and what they provide for customers, I can market them better.”
“Whatever. It’s a smart move. You never know, you might be ready for Aunt Margaret’s advanced session in no time.”
“That’s very hopeful of you.” Kristen laughed. “I’m not quite ready for art quilts yet.” She thought about her aunt’s retirement. “Is Aunt Margaret going to keep teaching here at the store now that she’s retiring?”
“As far as I know, she wants to continue.”
“But what if we expand and there are more people for classes?”
“We can hire more teachers.”
Knowing her sister had made some beautiful quilts, including one for her, Kristen asked, “Would you want to do a class?”
Heather blanched. “Are you kidding? I’m already working full-time and going to school part-time. And somehow I have to make extra time for the twins every day. If I was going to do anything else, it would be outside. I can hardly take care of my own garden.”
Which Kristen knew was important to her sister, who was studying to be a horticulturist, specializing in sustainable landscapes.
“Relax, already. I was kidding, Heather. Like you say, we can get more teachers.”
“There are several women who come here who have been quilting forever.”
“Then why do they keep taking classes?”
“To socialize. They’ve turned it into more of a quilting circle. Everyone brings potluck. So the women eat and talk and work on their quilts. Sometimes they choose to work on group projects. You know, if someone is having a baby or getting married.”
Reminded of Jason, the man she’d thought she would marry, Kristen turned away, saying, “Sounds like they have a good time.”
If not her idea of a good time, she thought, walking back to her desk. Before her personal financial crisis, she’d enjoyed going to plays and museums and dinners with her friends. Which went to prove how much she didn’t belong in a small town. She didn’t mind observing a few classes but she didn’t want to be part of a quilting circle—she wanted her old life back.
And right now, she wanted to eat. It was lunchtime, and she wasn’t about to miss another meal. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she set off through the store to the front door. “I’m going to grab some lunch,” she told Heather. “You want me to bring something back for you?”
“Thanks, but I brought a sandwich.”
Kristen knew she should have done the same, but she hadn’t even thought about it. A holdover from her old life where she’d had lunch out every day. She couldn’t afford to keep doing that, so she needed to make sure the fridge was stocked with things she could eat. And no more mac and cheese for her or she wouldn’t fit into her secondhand designer suits, which she would need to wear on interviews. In the meantime, she decided to check out the family restaurant directly across the street.
Thinking she should have a salad, Kristen mused about what kind of dressing she would get as she checked the street for moving vehicles before crossing in the middle of the block. A siren went off nearby, but she paid it no mind as she tried to decide if she should eat in or take her meal back to the shop.
“Miss Lange, wait a minute!”
Her foot froze on the curb.
She knew that voice.
Turning, she saw Alex Novak getting out of his patrol car. He’d switched off the siren, but the light bar was still flashing. Her pulse fluttered at his approach.
“Chief,” she said, responding in kind to his calling her Miss Lange. “What can I do for you?”
He was pulling out an official-looking pad and a pen. “You can cross at the corner next time.”
“What?”
“You were jaywalking.”
He had to be kidding. “This isn’t the big city!”
“No matter. There’s a town ordinance against crossing in the middle of the street. That’s why we have those nice white lines at every corner, to give you a safe place to cross.”
“But I was safe,” she said reasonably. Maybe if she kept her voice moderate and friendly this time, he would back off. “There weren’t any vehicles coming. I checked. In fact, there aren’t any now.” Town traffic was moderate at its worst.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay a one-dollar fine anyway.” He started filling out the ticket.
“One dollar?”
“Yep.”
Reason lost out to irritation. Why was he doing this? And how did he happen to be here at the exact time she went out to get lunch? Was he trying to persecute her because she wouldn’t go out with him? Is that why she’d seen his patrol car crawl by so often over the past week? So he could find a way to irritate her for refusing his invitation to dinner?
Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “I won’t pay it.” She wasn’t going to throw away even one dollar because he had an issue with her decision to not see him. “This is ridiculous.”
“Let me get this straight. If I write a ticket for one dollar, you won’t pay it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive!”
“All right, then.” He actually smiled as he pulled out his handcuffs and indicated she should hold out her hands.
“I will not.”
“Right now, you’ve only committed an infraction subject to a small fine by jaywalking. But unless you cooperate, I’ll have to add resisting arrest to the charges. Then you’ll have to go before a judge.”
“Oh! I never—”
“Me neither.”
Kristen was horrified. Townspeople were stopping to watch the spectacle, and they were tittering at her plight. She recognized several people she knew, including Emily Auerbach. Undoubtedly the mayor’s wife would make a big deal of this. And Heather was standing in front of Sew Fine, her expression alternately shocked and amused.
Indignant, Kristen held out her hands, and Alex locked the handcuffs around her wrists, then said, “Now if you’ll come with me...”
She tucked her chin into her chest so she wouldn’t have to look at any of the bystanders and rushed toward the patrol car. He opened the back door and put his hand on her head. She ducked away from him and clunked the side of her head on the metal frame.
“Ouch!”
“I was trying to avoid that happening,” Alex said, but he was grinning at her.
Refusing to be baited, she slid into the backseat of a police car for the second time in less than a week. She couldn’t believe he thought this was funny. Or anyone else. She heard the chuckles and joking comments around her. Small towns were supposed to be friendly. Kristen choked back a sound of frustration as the patrol car moved down the street, past residents who were trying to get a better look at her.
She simply wasn’t feeling the love.
* * *
HE DIDN’T KNOW what made him do it.
Alex knew he was going to hear about this—probably from everyone, including the mayor—but he didn’t care. He hadn’t been able to figure out another way to get to know Kristen better, and when he’d seen her cross the street illegally he just hadn’t been able to help himself.
“Comfortable back there?”
Kristen made a rude noise in response.
“The jaywalking infraction and fee are listed on the town books,” he told her, lest she think he was making this up.
Owen had explained that it was to protect seniors and kids, the violators most vulnerable to getting hit by a moving vehicle. Neither seniors nor kids wanted to part with their dollar, so jaywalking had gone way down after the possible citation went on the books. Alex had never enforced the law before, but he hadn’t been able to resist doing so. Now, at least, he had Kristen’s full attention.
“Where were you going when you crossed illegally?” he asked.
“To the restaurant directly across from Sew Fine. I had no idea you had a rule against it.”
“It wasn’t a rule against your getting something to eat.”
“Well, you didn’t let me, did you? So you’re honestly going to take me to the station because I won’t pay the fine?”
“I never said that.”
“Then where are you taking me?”
“To do a little community service.”
“Entertaining you is considered community service?”
He laughed. “Nope. That’s just a bonus.”
A minute later, he pulled up to the Sparrow Lake Community House, a two-story building with terraces on both levels overlooking the lake. Opening the rear door of the vehicle, he helped Kristen get out, then he removed the handcuffs.
She rubbed her wrists as if the metal had chafed them. “I don’t understand what we’re doing here.”
“Good works. Your alternative to paying the fine. I hope you don’t object to that, too.”
She frowned at him but followed when he headed for the entrance to the building. He went straight to the kitchen, which was at the end farthest from the lake. Two gray-haired women wearing dresses and sensible thick-soled sandals were filling one of three cardboard boxes.
“Kristen,” Alex said, “Have you met Nellie?”
“Of course. I used to live here, remember. How are you doing, Nellie?”
“Pretty well. It’s nice to see you again. Though I thought you were coming by my consignment store.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it there soon.”
Alex relaxed a little.
Kristen was smiling as she informed him, “I know Louise, too. She works part-time at Sew Fine.”
“Kristen!” Louise’s dark face lit up and she laughed with delight. “You’re here to help Alex deliver the meals! Bless your sweet heart.”
“Yes, the meals,” Kristen said, moving closer to take a better look at the filled boxes.
“We have a couple of dozen seniors around town who aren’t as mobile as some of us are,” Louise explained. “So a bunch of us with too much time on our hands take turns providing them with a good meal every day.”
Nellie said, “We call this the Sparrow Seniors Soup Kitchen.”
“Not that we actually serve soup,” Louise quickly added.
“We do sometimes.”
“Only in the winter, though.”
The women looked annoyed with each other until Kristen said, “This is really wonderful of everyone involved.”
“And wonderful of Alex to fill in for our driver at a moment’s notice.” Louise shook her head. “Poor Bernie called in sick an hour ago and we didn’t know what we were going to do since Nellie doesn’t drive anymore. And I never learned.”
Still wondering how anyone not living in a big city got by without driving, Alex said, “No problem.” His gaze lingered on Kristen’s face. For once, she wasn’t frowning at him. “I’m glad to help out. That’s a great thing about living in a small town, having a sense of community that the big city doesn’t have.”
He noticed Kristen’s lips tightened a tad. Then she relaxed and asked, “What can I do?”
Louise handed her a clipboard. “Here’s the list of homebound seniors and their addresses. It also tells you if there’s a special meal. A few of our seniors are vegetarians. And one couple keeps kosher. All of their lunches are marked and are in this smaller box.”
Looking over the list, Kristen said, “Okay, I can keep track.”
Alex placed the smaller box on top of a big one. “I’ll be back to get the other box in minute.”
“No need,” Kristen said. “I can get it.”
She impressed Alex by picking up the box as if it weighed next to nothing. “You work out.”
“Just keep that in mind,” she muttered, leading the way out of the kitchen.
“Bye-bye,” Nellie called after them.
“And thank you both,” Louise added.
Alex followed Kristen, admiring the way her hips swayed gently. Rather than a suit, she wore a dress today, something less rigid and more feminine in a print—blue on white, the blue the same shade as her eyes. And her strappy heels made her legs look long and gorgeous.
When they got to the patrol car, Alex said, “Let’s just put these in the backseat.” He wedged the boxes against the vehicle and opened the door.
She slid her box inside. “Where am I supposed to sit?”
“Next to me.”
“In handcuffs?”
Alex juggled the boxes and got them both in the backseat. “Not if you continue to be cooperative.”
She gave him a searching look. “How long did it take you to come up with this plan?”
“What plan?”
Raising her eyebrows, she grabbed the clipboard and walked around the squad car. Alex swallowed his smile as he slid into the driver’s seat. She was a smart cookie. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured him out.
Now he had to find a way to keep her from thwarting his attempt to get to know her better.
CHAPTER SIX
KRISTEN WOULD NEVER admit she was enjoying herself in Alex’s company, but there it was. Halfway through their deliveries, she had already seen parts of town she didn’t remember. She’d also seen some nice people she remembered from the old days and felt good about doing something positive for the elderly who couldn’t do for themselves.
Apparently, Alex hadn’t hesitated in taking over for the regular driver. His generosity of spirit touched her. She was having a real feel-good moment because of him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something so spontaneous and for such a good cause...not that she’d had much choice in the matter. But still...
“I hear Margaret is retiring,” Alex said.
“She turned in her resignation at the university a few days ago.”
“About time she took it easy. She’s...um...a lot like you.”
Surprised, she said, “I’m nothing like Aunt Margaret. She’s so creative. She has an artist’s soul. I’m very practical and boring.”
“Boring?”
Kristen waited for a verbal shot from the police chief, but he simply let the word hang in the air between them.
Then he said, “I wasn’t talking about what you do but about how you do it. From what I understand, Margaret has been filling her every moment, mostly with work. Sound familiar?”
“Okay, so I admit I’m a type A. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But people can be ambitious and competitive about fun things, too.”
“I’m not sure I know how to have fun.”
Having an adventure like this was unexpected and a little strange. So was giving up control to someone else. And yet, letting someone else be in charge for once gave her a taste of freedom that she enjoyed. No decisions to make, even if for a short while. She couldn’t help but respect Alex.
She gave him the address for the Gerbers, who were the next people on the list and a couple she knew. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a house that showed its age. The siding didn’t look bad, but paint peeled from the porch steps and the windows. In addition, the grass was overgrown and the flower beds needed tending.
“Wow, this place could use some work,” Kristen said.
“Make a note of it on your list.”
“Why?”
“We’re starting a community service program for first-time offenders. We’re looking to help people who can no longer do outside work for themselves and can’t afford to hire anyone.”
“Sounds like a great idea.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said.
Kristen started. Expecting to see that snarky smile, she was surprised that Alex actually did appear to be pleased. Why her opinion was important to him, she couldn’t imagine.
“As long as you don’t mean you’re starting the community service program for me.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “You don’t, do you?”
He grinned. “Not unless I catch you jaywalking again.”
Biting back a smile, she checked her list. “We need to deliver three meals here. Two regular and one vegetarian.”
“You get the vegetarian and I’ll grab the other two.”
Glad to get out of the vehicle—she’d merely been a passenger until now—Kristen opened one rear door as Alex opened the other. She dug out a vegetarian meal and then looked up. He was smiling at her. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling in return.
She let herself enjoy the moment as she followed him up the five steps to the door.
He rang the bell.
Movement at the corner of her eye made Kristen start. A silver-haired woman was staring through parted curtains out the window. Kristen raised the container of food to show her. The curtain closed, and a moment later, the door opened.
“A couple!” the woman exclaimed. “Well, that’s a first. Is that Kristen Lange?”
“It is, Mrs. Gerber. Good to see you again.”
“You, too.” Mrs. Gerber looked from Kristen to Alex. “Aren’t you two cute together!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Alex said politely. “Would you like me to carry the food to your kitchen?”
“Nah, Herman needs the exercise.” The woman turned to yell, “Herman get off that couch and come get lunch!” Then she turned back to the porch and gave Kristen and Alex a sweet smile that made her face look like crumpled paper. “Herman and I have been married for sixty-three years. How long have you two been together?”
“About an hour.” Amused by the woman’s mistake, Kristen explained, “We’re not a couple.”
“Oh, really? You have that look about you. Doesn’t she, Alice?” she asked, as a silver-haired look-alike—her sister—stepped next to her.
“What look, Betsy?”
“Like they’re a couple in love.” Betsy yelled again, “Herman!”
“Coming! Give a guy a minute, would you?”
The two women beamed at them until Kristen started to grow uncomfortable. She was thankful when Herman finally came to the door. Completely bald, he looked at them out of rheumy eyes.
“I’ll take those,” he said gruffly as Alex handed him his boxes and Kristen put hers on top. “New delivery people, huh?” He didn’t seem to recognize either of them. “Thanks. Real nice of you.”
With that, he turned and shuffled away.
“Yes, thank you both,” Alice said.
“I still think you two belong togeher,” Betsy added, making Kristen practically run back to the patrol car.
She slid into her seat and pretended interest in the list when Alex opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel.
“Quite the characters, aren’t they?” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you uncomfortable?”
Though heat surged up Kristen’s neck, she said, “No, of course not. Why would I be?”
“Why, indeed?” Alex murmured, as he started the engine.
Kristen gave him the next address, then said, “I wonder how old they are.”
“Depends on how young they were when they married. Could be mid-eighties. Herman looks older.”
“Sixty-three years. That’s amazing. I’ve never met a couple who’ve been together that long before. Relationships usually don’t last.”
“It all depends on the couple. My parents have been together nearly forty years. You just need to find the right person.”
“Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it?” She’d thought Jason was the right guy for her and look how wrong she’d been. “People can fool you.”
Feeling Alex’s questioning stare, Kristen looked away from him out the side window. She didn’t want to talk about the man who’d disappointed her, who’d ditched her when things got rough, so she was relieved when Alex didn’t press her.
She checked her watch. Good grief, she’d been gone for nearly an hour already, and she hadn’t even called her sister to tell her what was up. Heather had seen Alex haul her off, though, so it wasn’t as if she’d just disappeared. She left her cell where it was. Explanations could wait until she got back to the store.
The final few deliveries went faster than she’d expected. Alex kept the conversation on general topics about the town. Then he headed the patrol car back toward Sew Fine, and Kristen girded herself to be tormented by Heather. Undoubtedly her sister would have her own suppositions about Alex’s arresting her.

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