To Daddy. Painstakingly spelled out in red and gold sequins.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. Jillian’s eyes were wide with sympathy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I told her I’d help her make valentines, but I had no idea...”
Cassie straightened her spine. She’d talk to Emma about it. Make her understand, somehow, that this particular valentine was going to remain unsent. Her head began to throb.
“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault,” Cassie told Jillian.
It’s mine.
Alex kept an eye on the door as he mingled and shook hands in the spacious lobby. Observation was second nature at this point, and he wanted to see how that little scene out front played out. What was the big deal about a couple of valentines? Maybe it was nothing, but an overactive sense of curiosity came with the job.
He was munching on a tiny crustless sandwich when Cassie entered the room. Her daughter and friend followed, but she was the one that drew him, made him want to know more. There was something about the fiery redhead that made her impossible to ignore. Yes, she was pretty in a girl-next-door way, with a petite build and freckled complexion. But it was more than that. Her quick temper should have been off-putting. Instead, her transparency put him at ease. Every emotion showed on her face—there was no hidden agenda. In his line of work, he spent most of his time trying to figure out what someone wasn’t saying, but this woman was an open book.
And right now, she looked like she needed a friend. Her pale skin was flushed, and she had a tight look around her eyes, as if she was fighting off a headache. Moving toward her, drawn by instinct more than conscious thought, he offered her a drink. “Water?”
“Hmm?” She looked down at the unopened bottle he held in his hand. “Yes, thank you.” Taking a tentative sip, she screwed the cap back on. “Listen, about the coffee shop. I’m sorry I was rude. It was a dumb joke. I just...well, it wasn’t about you, specifically.”
“Not a fan of cops, are you?”
She winced. “That obvious?”
“Let’s see. You made a cop joke in front of a cop. Then you equated law enforcement with criminal behavior. It wasn’t a hard case to crack.”
Her eyes widened, and then she smiled. A heart-stopping smile that reached her eyes and made him wish he could do more for her than hand her a bottle of water. This must have been how Helen caused all that trouble in Troy. His heart thudded in his chest, warning him to look away.
His eyes landed on her daughter, who had snuck to the far side of the table to liberate another cookie. “She’s beautiful.”
The smile got even brighter. “Thanks.”
“Just like her mother.”
Instantly her smile vanished, and her gaze grew guarded. “I should go find a seat, before they’re all taken.”
He hadn’t meant the compliment as a pick-up line, but she obviously thought he was hitting on her and was putting as much space between them as possible. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but he’d heard medical people didn’t always wear them because of the constant hand-washing. Great. She was probably married. Now she had a reason to dislike him personally, rather than just cops in general.
Unable to come up with a reason to follow her, he hung back to watch the proceedings from the rear of the room, a small crowd filling the seats in front of him. These were his neighbors now, his community. Getting to know them had to be top priority if he wanted to be effective at his job. Hopefully volunteering like this would be a step in that direction. He had other, more personal reasons for wanting to volunteer, but no one needed to know that. He didn’t need his past coloring his chances at a future here.
At the front of the room, the woman he’d spoken to earlier, Jillian, stood and called for everyone’s attention. “Welcome to the Sandpiper, and thank you for taking the time to help with such a worthwhile project. As most of you know, I was a foster child myself, so I know firsthand how hard that life can be. And what a difference a caring person can make. I’m really thankful we have so many people interested in volunteering, and that, in addition to working with children’s services, we will also be partnering with the Palmetto County Sheriff’s Department. They will be sponsoring a group of kids for the program as well, kids who are in a difficult spot and might need some extra help. Deputy Santiago is here representing the department tonight and will be volunteering his own time to this important project.” She smiled at him, and he raised a hand in acknowledgment. Several of the townspeople turned and sized him up. Many offered warm smiles; a few nodded in acceptance.
Jillian finished, then introduced the chairwoman of the event, Mrs. Rosenberg, a diminutive senior citizen decked out in a leopard-print track suit. As she listed off the various jobs, he made a mental note to sign up for the setup crew. A strong back would be welcome when it came time to move tables and hang decorations, and it sounded a heck of a lot better than messing with tissue paper and glitter for the decorating committee.
Finally, the talking was over. Everyone milled around, catching up on gossip as they waited to sign up on the clipboards on the front table. He started that way, easing through the crowd as best as he could, given that everyone there seemed to want to greet him personally. He’d exchanged small talk with half a dozen people and was less than halfway across the room when he felt a tug on his sleeve.
“Deputy?”
It was the chairwoman, now sporting rhinestone spectacles and wielding a clipboard.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” The question was just shy of an accusation, and the shrewd eyes behind the glasses were every bit as sharp as a seasoned detective’s.
“I am.” He extended a hand. “Alex Santiago. Nice to meet you.”
She gripped him with a wiry strength, then spoke over his shoulder. “Hold on, Tom, I’ll be right there.” Turning her attention back to him, she smiled. “I have to go handle that. But don’t worry. I’ll get you signed up myself.”
Grateful that he wouldn’t have to fight the crowd, he backtracked to the front door. He was almost there when it hit him. “Mrs. Rosenberg?”
From across the room she turned. “Yes?”
“Which committee are you signing me up for?”
“Oh, all of them, of course.”
Of course.
Cassie spent most of the drive home trying to figure out what to say to Emma about her valentines. She still wasn’t sure how to explain things in a way a four-year-old could understand, but she’d come up with something. She always did.
She set her purse down on the counter and put the old-fashioned kettle on the stove. “Emma, go put your backpack in your room, and get ready for your bath, please. I’ll be right there.” It was so late she was tempted to skip the bath part of bedtime, but changing the schedule would undoubtedly backfire and keep the tyke up later in the long run. Besides, after an afternoon romping on the beach and exploring the Sandpiper’s sprawling grounds, her daughter was in dire need of a scrub-down.
Enjoying the brief quiet, she kicked off her sensible shoes and opened the sliding door to the patio. The screened room was her favorite part of the house, especially at this time of year. The air was chilly by Florida standards, but still comfortable. Right now she would have loved to curl up on the old chaise with