Читать книгу Her Small-Town Sheriff - Lissa Manley, Lissa Manley - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Two days after Sheriff Winters and Heidi visited Phoebe’s store, she stood in back of the soda fountain, serving George and Lela Raggs.

The bells above the door jingled and a moment later, Molly breezed through with some flowers in one hand. Wedding samples, Phoebe presumed.

Phoebe waved a greeting and Molly gestured back, then hung at the front of the store while Phoebe finished doing business.

Phoebe handed George and Lela their cones. “Let me know how you guys like that new mango ice cream,” she said. “Feedback so far has been positive.”

“Sure thing, Phoebe,” Lela said. “Although you know my favorite will always be Rocky Road.” George and Lela, newly retired and loving it, came in every Tuesday and Thursday at precisely two in the afternoon. Today marked the only time in recent memory that Lela had ever ordered anything but a single scoop of Rocky Road. George, on the other hand, was all over the ice cream board, and rarely ordered the same thing twice.

“Lots of people like Rocky Road,” Phoebe said. Including the sheriff—but she wasn’t thinking about him. “Don’t worry. I’ll always have that flavor around.”

“Excellent,” George said. “We’d hate to have to go somewhere else for our ice cream fix.”

“I’d hate that, too,” Phoebe replied with a smile, even though she was the only dedicated ice cream store in Moonlight Cove proper. “You two are some of my best customers.” Sure, lots of tourists frequented her store. But she also had a core group of locals who came in on a regular basis, even when the rain started and the tourist season took a nosedive. Without them, her business would languish in the off-season.

“Say,” Lela said, her forehead crinkling. “We didn’t see you at church on Sunday. Everything okay? You’re usually a regular.”

Phoebe picked up an ice cream spade and started smoothing the top of the Rocky Road. “Um…yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I had to work.” True enough. She had come in and done the weekly supply ordering.

“Oh. Okay,” Lela said. “Hope you’ll be able to come next week.”

Phoebe smoothed the top of the Rocky Road until it was a literal work of ice cream art, then moved on to the chocolate chip. “I hope so, too,” she said truthfully, though she doubted her sentiments would come true. Since Justin died, she’d dutifully attended church, hoping to bridge the chasm Justin’s death had caused between her and God through faithful, regular worship. Yet somehow that strategy hadn’t worked, and lately, she’d avoided services, feeling as if her efforts were futile and useless, not to mention frustrating.

A big rut, for sure, one she didn’t know how to dig her way out of.

After a bit more small talk about the new restaurant that was rumored to be opening in town, George and Lela said goodbye and headed out into the sunny May afternoon to enjoy their cones as usual—weather permitting—on the benches perched along the edge of the covered boardwalk that lined both sides of Main Street.

Wistfulness rose up in Phoebe; what would it be like to be retirement age and still have the love of your life by your side?

She would never know.

Pushing aside a hollow feeling of loss she didn’t want to dwell on, Phoebe wiped her hands, then turned her attention to Molly, determined not to let herself wallow. “Hey, you. What’s up?”

Molly held up the flowers in her hand. “What do you think of this color scheme?”

The bouquet held a gorgeous collection of pink, purple and white flowers, interspersed with fluffy greenery and baby’s breath.

“I love it,” Phoebe said. “Meg really outdid herself.” Meg Douglas had recently moved to town to help run the local flower store, Penelope’s Posies, with her mom, Penelope Marbury, who was thinking about retirement now that Matchmaker Molly had found her a man. Happily, Penelope and Hugh Jeffers, a local Realtor, were engaged after Molly had set them up six months ago.

“I like it, too,” Molly said, eyeing the bouquet from all angles. “And the flowers will go really well with the bridesmaid dresses I’ve picked out.”

Phoebe’s lunch gurgled, and the theme to a once popular children’s show starring a big purple dinosaur went skipping through her brain. She shifted on her feet and bit her lip, determined not to tell Molly she wasn’t terribly keen on the dress Molly had chosen for her attendants.

Okay. So she hated the purple satin number with the puffy sleeves. But she would dutifully wear it for her best friend without complaining because that’s what bridal attendants had been doing at weddings since the dawn of time and invention of satin.

“Yes, they will go well with the dresses.” She smiled. Big. Like a huge, toothy dinosaur. “The purple especially,” she added, even though she feared she was going to look like a shiny grape on the altar. Or maybe an eggplant.

Molly beamed. “Oh, good. I’ve been really hung up on the flowers.”

No kidding. This was the fifth bouquet Phoebe had seen in the past two weeks.

Molly continued on. “Grant says to just pick something, but it’s been hard to find just the right combination.”

“Well, looks like you’ve got a winner,” Phoebe said, nodding toward the flowers, which were truly gorgeous. Unlike the dress she’d be wearing, which hovered more around fruitlike than gorgeous.

Nodding, Molly set the flowers down. “I hope so, but now that I’ve picked the flowers, I need to rethink the cake. Any chance you can go to the bakery tonight after work for a tasting?”

“I can’t.” Phoebe moved the tip jar over an inch so it was in its normal place. “Tonight’s the first night of the grief-counseling class I signed up for.”

Molly hoisted up a brow. “So you finally gave in to your mom and agreed to go?”

Phoebe let out a breath. “Yeah. I’m not really that hot on the idea, but she really wants me to, and I’ve never been able to say no to her.” She made a face. “Plus, she signed me up, so it’s a done deal.”

Molly sat on a stool. “Well, I think it’s great you’re going.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how talking about losing Justin can do any good.” Sometimes it felt as if nothing could help soothe her grief.

“You’d rather just ignore the hurt and grief, wouldn’t you?” Molly grimaced. “No offense, of course. I don’t pull punches.”

Phoebe wouldn’t expect her to. “I’m not ignoring it,” she said, making sure the metal ice cream scoops were arranged in their water bins just so.

“Maybe not totally…”

Phoebe paused. “I’m doing the best I can.” But was her best good enough? And without God to help her…well, she was struggling, and she wasn’t a total idiot. Which was why she’d agreed to the counseling class.

Molly came over and hugged her. “I know, hon.”

Phoebe hugged her back, thankful for Molly’s support.

With a squeeze to Phoebe’s arm, Molly pulled away. “So how’s it going with the sheriff’s adventuresome daughter? When I came in yesterday for my ice cream fix, she didn’t seem too happy to be here.”

“Not so good.” Phoebe headed back behind the counter, glad Heidi had filled Molly in on why she’d be working here. Phoebe didn’t like hiding things from her best friend. “She’s shown up the last two days looking as if she’s been sentenced to hard labor for the Grinch, and any attempts I made to draw her out were shut down with sullen silences and huffy looks.”

“Didn’t you say when we talked on the phone the other night that she seemed pretty amenable to working here when you and Carson came up with her punishment?”

“I thought so,” Phoebe said, shrugging. “But she’s got a bee in her bonnet again, and her attitude is making me feel about an inch tall.”

“Did you really expect her to embrace her punishment?” Molly asked with a rueful look as she plopped down in a stool opposite the counter. “C’mon. Be real.”

“No.” Phoebe chewed her lip. “But I thought maybe she’d loosen up a bit.”

“She’s twelve, Phoebs. Loose and relaxed isn’t even in her vocabulary.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I was just hoping…”

Molly quirked a brow. “That she’d instantly like you?”

Phoebe lifted one shoulder and tilted her head sideways. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad. Just unrealistic.”

Molly was right. Heidi was going to be a tough nut to crack. Impossible, maybe. But somehow, Phoebe felt the compelling need to at least try to work a bit of Heidi’s shell loose.

“Probably,” she said. “But I’m a sucker for punishment, so I’ll keep trying to soften her edges.”

“Knowing your kind heart, that doesn’t surprise me,” Molly said with a warm smile.

The bells over the door rang, and a family of tourists bustled in. Phoebe served them, glad for the distraction of the kids’ smiles and beach-induced happiness.

They left with enough scoops of ice cream for three families, and Molly approached from where she’d been standing looking out the window. “I think I just saw Sheriff Winters walking by,” she said, switching gears almost midthought. “He still looks mighty good in that uniform.”

Phoebe’s heart tripped, and before she could stop the reaction, her gaze flew to the window. “Really?”

“Wow.” Molly chuckled. “Are you just a little anxious to see the man?”

Phoebe closed her eyes for a second. She had to be more careful around Molly about letting her ill-advised and unwanted interest in Carson Winters—and his uniform—show. “No. Of course not.” That was the plan, and she was sticking to it.

“Really? Because for just a second it seemed like maybe you had a little…crush going on there.”

The word crush set Phoebe on edge. “I don’t do crushes,” she said, her chin elevated to emphasize her point. Yes, the new sheriff in town was attractive. But his family situation was a mess. Enough said.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Molly said.

“Not my first.”

Molly blinked. “Sorry. Right. Second,” Molly said, recovering quickly.

Phoebe rolled her eyes.

“Hey, he’s a hunk,” Molly said, probably going for levity. “If I weren’t already happily taken, I’d have a crush on the guy.”

Phoebe sighed. “I know where this is going, Little Miss Matchmaker,” she said ruefully.

“Where?” Molly asked, all innocence as usual, and playing dumb about her motives.

“Down your usual matchmaker path,” Phoebe said, glaring. “The one I can’t get you to step off.”

“So what if I am going down that path?” Molly moved closer, then leaned a hip against the counter. “I love that path, and I’m happy where it’s taken me.”

Phoebe gave her a deadpan look.

“I really think you need to start dating again, and I’m sensing Sheriff Winters is the perfect guy,” Molly said, ignoring Phoebe’s nonverbal cue.

Phoebe shook her head at the mention of Molly’s love mojo, i.e., her self-proclaimed ability to sense who belonged with whom romantically.

“Trust me when I say he’s not perfect for me,” Phoebe said pointedly.

“Care to tell me why? Aside from your need to avoid romance?”

Phoebe straightened the napkin and cone holder on the fountain counter. How was she going to get Molly to back off…?

Okay. She’d have to bend what she felt was a confidence between the sheriff and herself and tell Molly a bit about the Winterses’ family drama, without going into specifics or gossiping. Fortunately she could trust Molly to keep whatever Phoebe told her to herself.

“He and his daughter have been through a lot, and are having major problems.” She grabbed a clean sponge and cleaned an invisible spot off the counter. “The last thing I want is to get caught up in some kind of messy father/daughter crisis.”

Molly jabbed a finger in the air. “Aha. No wonder you want to bond with Heidi.”

Phoebe blinked.

“Because you’ve been through a lot, too?” Molly said, as if the reasons for her statement were obvious.

“Maybe you’re right,” Phoebe said, conceding the point because it was valid. “But bonding with Heidi and getting hung up on her father are two very different things.”

“Yes, but—”

Phoebe kept going, needing to make her point. “And, the fact remains I’ll never fall in love again, so why try?” She stared at Molly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Right?”

Molly sat silently for a moment, chewing her lip, the wheels in her head obviously turning.

“Plus, he’s a cop. No way am I going to get involved with someone who works in law enforcement.”

Finally she lifted a piercing green gaze to Phoebe. “I find all of this very interesting,” she said in a speculative tone. “Fascinating, actually.”

Phoebe scrunched her eyebrows together. “Why?” she asked, hoping Molly would spout some vague theory and then drop the subject so they could talk about flowers again.

“Because for a woman who claims to be so indifferent to Carson Winters, you’ve sure spent a heap of time coming up with lots of reasons why you don’t want to go out with him.”

“So?” Phoebe said, looking at Molly sideways.

Molly stood, cocking her head. “So, to quote someone who—I don’t know—probably knew what they were talking about, ‘methinks thou doth protest too much.’”

“Your point?” Phoebe asked, anticipating the worst.

“You’re attracted to him, Phoebs. And that scares you to death.”

* * *

“So, anything you want to talk about?”

Carson looked over his cup of black coffee at his cousin, Lily, taking careful note of the well-intentioned-on-her-part, yet dreaded-on-his-part interest in her eyes.

She was on a fishing expedition. No wonder she’d pushed him to meet for coffee at The Coffee Cabana in the middle of the afternoon.

His fingers squeezed the handle of his coffee mug. Had Heidi filled Lily in on the latest drama in the Winterses’ household when she and Lily had gone shopping last night? Or was Lily just being her usual nosy, talk-to-me-I-can-help self?

Either way, Carson didn’t want to get into it. “Well, Ollie Sanders got busted for drunk and disorderly yesterday, and Mrs. Jaquith backed her car into another fire hydrant. Oh, and it seems someone left a bag of dog doo in the middle of Pelican Lane sometime last night and Jimmy Voss called to complain that it hadn’t been picked up yet—”

“I’m not talking about job stuff,” Lily said, smoothing her long, blond hair behind one ear.

He stared at her, but didn’t say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash how Heidi had gone rogue and taken a walk on the wild side, straight to the candy bins of I Scream for Ice Cream.

What was done was done, he’d meted out punishment and that was that. Time to move on, keep the peace between him and Heidi as best he could. And hope they both made it through her teen years without driving each other crazy.

Lily took a leisurely sip of her caramel macchiato, then set her cup down and said, “I had a long talk with Heidi last night in the teen lingerie department, and she told me that things aren’t going so well.”

“You’re really out to get me today, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Teen lingerie?”

Lily chuckled. “Oh, Carson. She’s not going to be a little girl forever—”

He hissed and raised a hand, cutting her off. “What did she say?”

“She told me about the ice cream parlor.”

“Okay.” Not surprising Heidi had shared that with Lily.

“So, she’s clearly struggling.”

“I know.” He took a sip of his coffee, hating that he had to agree with her. “But I’ve dealt with what she did with a consequence, and she’s apologized to Phoebe Sellers. Everything’s been handled.”

“You really think it’s that easy?”

He looked at the swirling blackness of the coffee in his cup and remained silent. He didn’t want this turmoil.

After a bit of a silence, Lily said, “Carson, Heidi has been dealt two terrible blows, and she’s acting out because she’s having a hard time dealing with all the changes in her life.”

“I get it.” That much was obvious. But what to do about the obvious? Not quite so much a slam dunk.

Maybe he needed help here. He hated asking, but for Heidi’s sake, he would. “Any suggestions?” he asked, slanting a glance at Lily.

She leaned forward. “Have you thought about getting her counseling?”

Guilt zapped him. “I haven’t had time to find someone.” Yeah, he’d dropped the ball on that one. But keeping all of the balls in the air on his own since they’d moved had been a real challenge.

“Why don’t you let me work on finding a good teen therapist around here, okay?”

He nodded stiffly.

“And how about more counseling for yourself?” Lily asked, regarding him directly. “I can’t imagine the few sessions the department required were enough.”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly. But was he really?

She leaned in and touched his hand. “No one would be fine after everything that’s happened to you.”

“I can handle it.” And he would. Somehow. That’s what he did—plodded on without complaint and dealt.

“Yeah, I know you think you can.” She quirked her mouth. “But you’re a guy, and most guys just want to put their heads down and plow forward.”

“Yep, that pretty much sums it up right there.” And if he could avoid emotional chaos, even better.

“So. How’s that working for you?”

He shifted in his chair and ground his molars together. “Not that well,” he said truthfully. Heidi deserved that he be honest with himself. Even if he didn’t like dissecting every little emotion. Or admitting he needed help.

Lily picked up her purse. She dug around inside, then pulled out a piece of folded green paper and held it out for him. “Take a look at this. I picked it up at church last Sunday.”

Wary, he took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the contents quickly. His stomach pitched.

The flyer announced a series of classes set to take place at Moonlight Cove Community Church every Thursday night for the next month. Starting tonight.

Grief-counseling classes.

Sighing heavily, he dropped the paper on the table and looked at Lily. “You really think this will help?”

“Yes, I do. You’re grieving the death of your son and the death of your marriage. That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, Carson. Someone would have to be a superhero to handle what’s happened on their own.”

“I thought I was a superhero,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ve always been able to handle life’s ups and downs on my own.” Although he’d never been thrown something as traumatic as his son dying and his wife abandoning him.

“I know, and you’ve been superhuman in the past, believe me. But that routine isn’t working now, and your daughter is struggling. Don’t you think you need to get some help to deal with your grief—to heal—so you can give her what she needs and deserves?”

More guilt loaded on. How could he have gone so wrong? “Everything you’ve said is true,” he said. “But honestly, Lily, this feels like a failure to me.” He let out a derisive snort. “I should be able to handle this without some class to show me the way.”

She looked at him, understanding in her brown eyes. “It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.”

“It is in my book,” he replied, swiping a rigid hand through his hair. “I’m a cop, a problem solver. I’m used to stress. I should be able to deal.”

“Well, you’re going to need to get over that misconception for Heidi’s sake.”

For Heidi’s sake.

Those words reverberated in him, hitting home Lily’s point like brass knuckles to the gut. He needed to focus on what was best for Heidi, and she needed him, now more than ever. He’d be a selfish idiot and a neglectful parent not to see that and act on it.

“I’ll do whatever I have to for Heidi,” he said to Lily. Even if doing so meant admitting his weaknesses and attending some touchy-feely counseling class for the next four weeks.

Even though he rather be Tasered, what other choice did he have?

* * *

“So,” Rebecca, the grief-counseling instructor, said from the front of the room. “Does anyone have any questions?”

Phoebe shifted in the small, hard chair set up in a classroom in the basement of the Moonlight Cove Community Church. Thankfully the rest of the grief-management classes would take place in the more comfortable singles’-group lounge, once that room became available next week. Spending any more time in these uncomfortable chairs didn’t really float her boat.

Someone to her left raised their hand and asked about the schedule. Phoebe tapped her pencil on the desk, listening intently, trying to make the most of her time here, even though she’d had to coerce herself to come.

Forcing herself to talk about painful things was always, well, painful, and she felt like she had when she’d gone to the dentist for a root canal.

Fortunately, they had Novocain for a root canal. But for handling grief? No such thing.

When all of the questions had been answered, Rebecca said, “All right. I’ve gone over the basic structure of the course and covered the schedule in depth. Now, if you’ll remember, I mentioned working with a discussion partner outside of class.”

Everyone in the class murmured their assent along with Phoebe.

“Okay, there are twelve of us, and since Randy and Joanna are married and want to be partners, we’ll need to count off by fives to make five groups of two.” She pointed right. “Start here and count off, and then we’ll partner up, get to know each other for a few minutes, and adjourn.”

Everyone dutifully said their number, and Phoebe uttered “five” when it was her turn. The counting hit the back of the room, and the last person to speak—a guy with a vaguely familiar deep voice—said “five” after a pause. The counting ended.

Phoebe drew her eyebrows together. She hadn’t noticed any men in the very back of the room when the class had started…

Gathering up her things, she stood and turned around to see who she’d be working with. Only to be met with the dark, piercing, none-too-happy yet surprised gaze of Sheriff Carson Winters.

She blinked as her heart tripped over itself. Freezing in midmotion as she slung her purse over her shoulder, she almost whacked the woman standing next to her.

Oh, no. What was he doing at a grief-counseling class? His wife had left him and Heidi, yes. Did death of a marriage count? Probably so…

A new depth of empathy grabbed ahold of her and twisted. Automatically, a prayer rose inside of her. Lord, please help the Winterses through this, and give them the strength they’ll need to heal. And help me, too, please. I think I’m going to need it.

Because as a woman out to keep her life on an even track, spending any one-on-one time with the compelling Carson Winters was the very last thing she wanted to do.