Belong To The Night. Cynthia Eden
and the elk he’d taken down last night had already worn off. “I see she’s coaching the girls’ softball league this season.”
“Yep.”
“While Seneca has become assistant coach for the junior and varsity cheerleading squads and Emma’s teaching that tax and accounting class over at the senior center.”
Jamie lifted her head, a piece of toast gripped in her hand. “Uh-huh.”
“And even Kenny has volunteered her time over at the library to help upgrade the computer systems and help the kids learn basic computing.”
“Your point?”
“I guess I was just noticing that you haven’t really involved yourself with the town.”
“Really?”
“Not that you have to, of course. Just sayin’ that sometimes it does a body good to know you’re helping others. And the more you help others, the more comfortable you’ll feel here.”
She raised her forefinger. “Hold that thought.” Then she leaned back in her chair, her arm reaching toward the table of males behind her. As soon as she moved toward them, they jerked back from her. They were cheetahs, used to bolting from bored lions and startled bears, so they moved really fast. Especially now.
Jamie pointed her finger. “Mind if I borrow the ketchup?”
The older male, watching her close the entire time, grabbed the ketchup from the table and carefully handed it over to her. Once she had her hand around the bottle’s neck, he snatched his hand back. They all waited until she’d turned back around before they settled back into their seats and went back to their conversation as if nothing had happened.
“So what were you saying about me feeling more comfortable around here?” she asked as she poured ketchup onto her hash browns.
Tully shook his head and went back to his meal. “Nothin’.”
Jamie walked down Main Street, her book tucked under her arm, which was actually the latest Stephen King novel but she’d held the faint hope her lie would make Smith go away—he didn’t.
What, exactly, is that dog up to?
For a good forty minutes, she’d watched him devour two platters of the diner’s special and go on and on about…she didn’t even know. People in the town. The town’s history. She had no idea why he was telling her all that nor did she care. She enjoyed not knowing these people’s business, shame they couldn’t seem to be the same way. But she did hope to lead by example.
Was he trying to get her to feel something specific? What did he think that would change? Would she make them less nervous if she were like Mac, helping their brats with their curveballs and chatting with the moms after practice? The thought made Jamie shiver in disgust. She loathed children. She’d loathed them when she was a child, and that feeling hadn’t changed in thirty-two years.
She was nearing her SUV when she walked right into someone. She immediately grabbed the person before they could hit the ground, but they lost control of their bags of groceries, apples rolling across the pavement.
“I’m sorry,” Jamie immediately apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s just a little thing, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
Jamie made sure the woman she had in her hands was not going to fall before she released her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Millie MacClancy smiled at her. “I’m fine, dear. Just fine. You’re such a little thing, I barely felt it.”
Okay. That was something she loved about this weird little town. Around here, Seneca and Emma were practically hobbits, Kenny was called “the short one,” Jamie was considered “petite,” and Mac was just average. It was definitely the best feeling, especially for the cousins who’d been called “big boned” enough times by their country cousins to have them only allowed to attend family reunions if they followed certain rules. The biggest one being, “No hitting.”
Millie started to crouch down to retrieve her bags and Jamie caught her arms again. “Don’t you dare. I’ll never hear the end of it from your son.”
Just the mention of Tully had the older woman smiling. “That boy. What’s he been up to now?”
“I wish I knew.” Jamie gave a little laugh before crouching and picking up all the fruits and vegetables that had flown out of the bags.
“So how are things going with you, sweetheart?” Miss Millie asked.
“Fine.” Jamie dropped the last of the apples and potatoes into the brown paper bag.
“Is the hotel doing well?”
“Yes. We’ve been really busy.” Jamie stood, the bags in her arms. “We’ve had to hire some new staff.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
Millie reached for the bags but Jamie held on to them. “No. I’ll take them to your car.” Jamie frowned. “Miss Millie? Are you all right?” The older woman had some strain on her face that Jamie had never seen before. “Do you need a ride?”
“No, no. Just some things on my mind. Nothing to worry about. The shopping helped.” She motioned down the street. “My car’s right there.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”
“No, sweetheart. But thank you for asking.”
Together they headed down the street. “I don’t understand, Miss Millie. Here you have this nice car and yet your son…”
Millie laughed. “What can I say? He likes to walk. Feels he finds out more about what’s going on in the town when he’s on two feet or four rather than when he’s driving.”
Jamie didn’t know how much the man could learn from slowly ambling around the town but she wouldn’t argue with Millie. There was something about the older woman that wasn’t like the others. Something really sweet and just…innocent. Even though in her late fifties, Jamie could well imagine what had caught eternally cranky Jack’s eye, but Jamie still couldn’t believe that Tully Smith was her son. Slow-moving, not-always-the-brightest, studies-every-female-as-if-he-has-or-will-fuck-her Tully.
Talk about falling far from the tree. Then again, more than once she’d heard a family friend of her parents remark about Jamie, “She may look like you, Mary. But other than that…”
Jamie waited for Millie to unlock her trunk and then she placed the grocery bags inside. She slammed the trunk closed and, as she always did, shook her head at the car Tully’s mother drove.
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Jamie sighed longingly. “I know people who’d kill for this car, though.”
Millie’s pretty brown eyes grew wide. “Really?” She leaned in and whispered, “I guess as a police officer you would know people like that.”
“Former police officer, but yes.” She gazed at the vehicle. “You just don’t see a lot of ‘66 Camaros in this condition.”
“Really?” Millie asked again, barely glancing at the car. “I try and take good care of it. To quote my daddy, ‘You gotta be ready ’cause you never know when the Revenuers are gonna come.’”
Jamie nodded slowly. “I see…and the Revenuers are a big problem for you, Miss Millie?”
“Not anymore.” She winked and walked around to her driver’s side. She’d only just unlocked the door when Katie walked up to them, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Millie and Jamie underneath her annoyingly too-large Sheriff’s Department cap. Jamie would think they could afford a cap that fit the poor girl’s head. Gods knew, it wasn’t like she had a small head.
“Everything