A man appeared in the dining room doorway. “Am I too early for breakfast?”
“No.” Reggie clutched her cleaning rag. “Not at all. I just need to put it in the oven and...” She composed herself. “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee while you wait? Get to know our other guests and...make yourself at home.”
Julie sighed. A cup of coffee sounded like heaven.
Duke stopped sucking down milk and tugged on the umbrella stroller. “Out, Juju. Go out.”
“Can’t I have my coffee first?” Julie’s gaze drifted to the stack of mugs by the coffee carafe.
“Peeeeeze.” Duke hugged Julie’s leg and gazed up at her with April’s gray eyes. “Go peeze.”
Julie was a sucker for that sweet face. A cup of coffee would have to wait. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She’d take Nate up on his offer of breakfast. She’d start him on the Daddy Test. That’d make him squirm. The idea perked her up.
A few minutes later, having made her apologies to the other guest, Julie pushed Duke through the foggy streets toward the town square in a blue umbrella stroller. For being two, Duke was a solid kid. Pushing him wasn’t easy. Back in the day, as an older sister, she’d pushed April in her stroller. She’d whined, of course.
“People like you and me have to take care of others,” Dad had said in response to her complaints. As a highway patrolman, he’d been adamant about duty and responsibility.
He’d been her strongest supporter when she’d wanted to try out for Little League baseball instead of softball. He’d argued her case with the school board when she wanted to pitch for her high school baseball team. But in return, he’d made her volunteer for every charity that needed an extra pair of hands. He’d insisted she babysit April and help her with her homework. He’d nourished her competitive streak and her sense of responsibility. A burden and a curse, she’d once told Nate.
Thinking about how close she and Nate had been made her cringe inside. The inward cringe made her wound ache. Aching wounds reignited her need for justice.
“Tree.” Duke interrupted her thoughts and his milk consumption, pointing to a large fir tree.
A yellow tow truck drove past. The driver waved at Duke.
“Truck.” Duke turned in his seat to grin up at Julie, eyes so like April’s that her breath caught.
She forgot about vendettas, twinging gunshot wounds and the past. She let her chest fill with the blissful sight of the gift April had left the world. “Do you know how much your mama loved you?”
Duke’s grin deepened and he spread his little arms wide. “This much!” He sat back in the stroller and pointed to the town square, which was all grass except for one large oak. “Tree.” And then he pointed to the left, to a blue pickup with a gold star on the door. “Truck.”
Nate’s truck. Nate was at El Rosal. Julie’s steps slowed.
El Rosal was a colorful Mexican restaurant with outdoor dining fenced in by a low wrought iron fence. On the same side of the street a few doors down was Martin’s Bakery. Both seemed to be doing a brisk morning business.
Nate sat at an outdoor table with a thin, elderly black man. The sheriff wore a blue checkered shirt beneath a navy sleeveless jacket. He gave his dining companion that half smile she knew so well. Only it wasn’t the same half smile of old. Not the one he used to send Julie’s way, the one that said he couldn’t trust himself to release his feelings. This one said he liked the man across from him and he was comfortable letting his companion know it.
Julie’s throat ached with the feeling of loss. It shouldn’t. She’d lost Nate as a friend the day he’d left April. But looking at him now, at that open-book smile, she wondered if their friendship had been one-sided.
“You’re early.” Nate pushed back his chair and hurried to meet them on the sidewalk, the contained half smile giving nothing away. He bent down near Duke’s level. “How’re you today, buddy?”
“Great!” Duke thrust his cup in the air.
Julie’s gaze stumbled over Nate. No uniform. No gun belt. She had no idea who he was anymore.
Nate’s scruffy dining companion appeared at his side. He wore a wrinkled orange T-shirt and a dirty green zippered sweatshirt. He had bachelor written all over him. “I’m Terrance.” He slanted a frown Nate’s way. “Next time you put me in jail for the night, I’d like breakfast in bed.” He walked slowly away, as if he had nowhere to go.
“What did you arrest him for?” Julie asked.
Nate’s gaze followed the old man. “Annoying me.” There was the dry humor she remembered.
“And that’s against the law?”
“In my town, yes.”
It was Julie’s turn to frown at the sheriff. Maybe Doris did have a legitimate claim against him. That cheered Julie, even if she didn’t quite believe it.
Meanwhile, Nate’s gaze focused on Julie and the lines around his dark eyes deepened. “You should reconsider your accommodations and stay with me.”
“No, thanks. Terrance didn’t look all that rested.”
“Neither do you.”
She glanced past Nate to the bakery sign, a little of her confidence returning. She knew how to deal with this Nate—be firm.
“I see you’re tempted by the bakery,” Nate said, moving closer to Julie. “On the one hand, Martin’s will have those pastries you’re craving.” Nate took her left arm, leaving her no choice but to push the stroller to his table. “On the other, El Rosal has bacon.”
From his seat in the stroller, Duke gasped. “Ba-con?”
“Yep, bacon,” Nate confirmed.
“Are you trying to tell me what’s best for Duke and me?” Julie felt overheated in her thick black hoodie. She was sure it was because she resented Nate’s touch, his calm, his command.
“They have good coffee here, Jules,” Nate said in a soft voice that contradicted the warning in his dark eyes. “And apple fritters.”
She hated that he knew her so well. She also hated that three words softened her resolve—coffee, apple fritters.
“Ba-con?” Duke searched several tables for his culinary prize.
“We’ll get you bacon while Juju parks the stroller and takes a rest at the table.” Nate unbuckled Duke and carried him inside. Into his life and away from hers.
Julie felt cold. Not the cold terror when she’d been shot, but the vein-freezing cold she’d felt when April had drifted off in death. The alone kind of cold. Her toes stung with it.
She parked the stroller inside the low wrought iron fence and took a seat beneath a tall heater, feeling chilled.
The patrons outside were mostly elderly. A few people looked at her curiously.
“You’re staying at the Lambridge Bed & Breakfast.” The mayor came to stand next to Julie’s table. He was wearing tie-dye again today. His sweatshirt was a wild mix of purple and green. “Welcome to Harmony Valley. Whatever brings you to town...” He paused to see if she’d explain why she’d come. When she didn’t, he continued, “We hope you enjoy your stay and perhaps stay.”
The patrons at other tables beamed at her.
“Oh, no. I’m not staying.” Julie put her hands on the table, as if to cradle the coffee cup that wasn’t there.
The mayor was nothing if not the town’s salesman. “Don’t judge so quickly. How many towns can boast affordable living, a winery and views like this.” He pointed to a fog-shrouded