Carla Cassidy - Lone Wolf Standing

His partners laughed. “You aren’t round enough to be a meatball,” Frank protested.

“And you aren’t short, you just aren’t overly tall,” Steve added.

“I’m average,” Jimmy said. “And if Sheri is looking for a prince, she’s definitely not interested in an average kind of guy like me.”

“You definitely aren’t an average guy, Jimmy,” Frank said. “Average guys don’t have black belts in martial arts training and they don’t have a brain like a computer that stores even the most minute detail of a crime.”

“This is a stupid conversation,” Jimmy said. “What’s going on with our armed robbery case?” He was more than ready to change the topic of conversation.

It didn’t matter what Sheri thought about him. Jimmy wasn’t made for any kind of a long-term love and Sheri definitely wasn’t the type of woman to be a “friend with benefits” or a drive-by, hit-and-run kind of woman.

As the three men began to discuss the details of the armed robbery, Jimmy shoved thoughts of Sheri out of his head. He was a detective and that was all he would ever be. He’d never be a husband or a father and he’d made peace with that fact a long time ago.

* * *

“Go home,” Abe said to Sheri at three in the afternoon. “I’ve got you covered for the rest of the night and I know that you usually like to spend some time in the later afternoons and evenings with your critters.”

“Thanks, Abe, but I think I’ll go ahead and hang out until closing,” Sheri replied.

“With Marlene not working here anymore you should probably hire on somebody. You can’t keep showing up early in the mornings and working until closing. You have to have a life outside of the store.”

“You’re right,” Sheri conceded. “I’ll put a sign in the window tomorrow and see who shows up.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe I should give Michael Arello another chance.”

Marlene had fired the young man when she’d caught him stealing food, but it was later learned that Michael was trying to feed three young orphans who were holed up all alone in a mountain cabin. Their grandmother had died of a heart attack in town and nobody had known that she was raising her three grandchildren.

Abe grunted. “His heart was in the right place but he made some bad choices. He’s not a bad kid, he’s just young.”

“He’s old enough to need a job. I think I’ll give him a call.” Sheri went into the small office in the back room and pulled up her employee records, both past and current. It took her only a minute to find Michael’s contact information. She called and left a message on his voice mail.

That finished, she returned to the front of the store and with Abe standing behind the counter she wandered over to the four quilt racks that displayed beautiful handmade quilts, including the one Jason King had brought in two days ago.

“I hope this one sells quickly,” she said as she touched the colorful patchwork. “I have a feeling the King family is in crisis. Jason was in the other day and said his father isn’t doing much work in the fields, that he disappears from the family for long periods of time and Jason doesn’t know where he goes or what he does.”

“That poor kid has more on his shoulders than most men twice his age,” Abe replied. “But at least they won’t go hungry. The community will always help their own.”

Sheri nodded. That’s what she admired about the Amish, their sense of community, of family. Like she’d had with her aunt Liz and Marlene and Roxy before the rug had been pulled out from beneath them with Aunt Liz’s disappearance.

It frightened her just a little bit that the grief that had been with her for the past three months each time she thought of her missing aunt had begun to dissipate, as if the last vestiges of hope had left her and resignation had moved in to reign.

She felt as if she was moving on with the unspoken knowledge that she’d never see her aunt again. There was no rational reason for Liz’s absence other than foul play that had ended in her death.

It would be nice at this point to have some closure, to have remains to bury, to know the reason everything had happened. She would never, ever be able to guess why anyone would want to harm somebody as kind and as loving as Liz Marcoli.

Part of the reason she was reluctant to call it a day and head home was that she was still a little nervous about the events of the night before.

She knew she was probably being silly, but danger had come too close too often to everyone in the Marcoli family except her. Last night before Jimmy had arrived she’d instinctively felt threatened, sensed danger lurking nearby. A case of the heebie-jeebies or some sort of primal feminine survival instinct?

All thoughts of danger and family disappeared as the door to the shop swung open to admit two adults and three small children who instantly began to run wild among the aisles.

“Jerry, Richard and Susan, come back here right now,” the harried mother exclaimed, and then shot an apologetic smile at Sheri. “Sorry, cooped up in the car too long.”

“We’re going to Hershey Park!” A little boy about six raced up to stand next to his mother, his slender body vibrating with excitement.

“And we’re going to see how they make chocolate.” The little girl joined the discussion.

“That will be such fun. Where are you coming from?” Sheri asked. She noticed that the man had taken the other little boy to the restroom.

“Indiana. It’s been a long drive,” the mother replied.

Sheri smiled. “The good news is you’re almost there. Hershey is less than thirty miles from here.”

“That’s great. We just couldn’t drive by this place without stopping in to see some of the Amish things you have for sale.”

Sheri led the woman to the area where Abraham Zooker’s beautiful furniture was displayed and then to the special cheeses that Isaaic, Abraham’s brother, provided. There were fresh herbs provided by Sarah Fisher, who had the best herb garden in the county, and the quilts and embroidered sacks and bags that several of the women in the Amish community brought in to sell.

They finally left with bags of chips and sodas and all three children sporting Wolf Creek hats complete with stuffed little wolves on the top.

“I’ve just been reminded why I never had kids,” Abe said. “I don’t think I ever had the energy for them.”

“I can’t wait to have children,” Sheri said, her heart warming at the very thought. Her head filled with a little boy with dark curly hair and she frowned. No, that wasn’t right. Her children would all be blond, like their father.

“You might want to find a man before you think about having any children,” Abe observed.

“I don’t have to find him. He’ll find me when the time is right.”

Abe eyed her in bemusement. “He’s not going to find you as long as you’re holed up in the store ten hours a day.”

“You never know who might walk through that door,” Sheri replied. “One of these days it will be the man of my dreams.”

At that moment Michael Arello walked in. Sheri grinned at Abe. “Definitely not the man I was looking for.”

“I got your message that you wanted to talk to me.” At twenty-one years old Michael Arello was a handsome young man when a sullen cast to his lips wasn’t present. At the moment there was no sign of the sullenness, just a wary glint in his brown eyes.

“Come on back to the office and let’s have a talk,” Sheri said.

It only took fifteen minutes of speaking with Michael to pin down the hours he’d work, talk about what had happened when he’d worked before and been fired, and elicit a promise from him that he’d be a good employee.