Jan Hudson - The Sheriff

“Thanks,” she told him.

“No problem. And I’d like to apologize for saying a rude word earlier.”

“Apology accepted.”

J.J. glanced at Katy and winked. She giggled.

After he’d taken a couple of bites, he said, “This is really good.”

“Thanks. Sorry I can’t offer toast or croissants, we’re fresh out.”

“We don’t have any orange juice either,” Katy said. When Mary Beth frowned slightly at her, she added, “But this milk is very good, Sheriff J.J. And Mommy made chocolate milk for me last night.”

J.J. didn’t say much until Katy finished eating and left to find a puzzle in her bag of toys. Then he said, “Mary Beth, I hope you’re not planning to spend another night in this place.”

“Actually, I’m planning on spending several. For the time being, this is our home.”

“Hell’s bells, Mary Beth, you can’t—”

“J.J., don’t tell me I can’t. I own this property and I don’t have any other options but to stay here. My family is all gone, I’m just about broke, and until I get my foot out of this cast, I can’t work. We’re staying here,” she said firmly. “It’s mine and it’s free.”

“But you have friends in town, and I’ll bet that my brother—”

“No, J.J. Until I can stand on my own two feet again, we’re staying here, and that’s final. There’s plenty of food in the freezer, and we have utilities for another couple of weeks.”

“Mary Beth, that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“It does to me. The matter isn’t open for discussion.”

“Dwight said you were hidebound and determined.”

“He’s right.”

“How long before your cast comes off?”

“About another week.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I guess staying here for a week won’t hurt. Do you need any groceries or anything?”

“There’s quite a bit of food here, but I would appreciate it if you could pick up some milk and bread and eggs for me. And a jar of peanut butter. Katy adores peanut butter.”

“Anything else?”

“No, those are the essentials. Except for a mousetrap.”

“Got mice?”

“I don’t know, but I heard some suspicious sounds last night.”

J.J. reared back in his chair. “Might be rats instead of mice. Big ones. You might want to rethink staying here.” His expression was just short of smug.

She fought a shudder. “Uh-uh. Won’t work. I’m not going to be chased away by rats—either the two-legged or four-legged variety. Just get a bigger trap. Let me get my purse.”

“I’ll spring for the stuff,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not ready to accept charity.”

“Don’t go getting your nose all out of joint. I’m just being neighborly. That’s the way we do things around here in case you’ve forgotten.”

A sudden lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Their eyes met for a moment, then he glanced away and rose quickly, clearing his throat. “Thanks for the omelette. I’d better get a move on. Got work to do.”

He grabbed his hat and was gone before she could get to her purse. J.J. was a truly nice man. And still sexier than buttered sin. If all those years ago, he hadn’t—

She sighed.

But he had and that was that. She called Katy to help her take the dishes to the kitchen.

“I like Sheriff J.J.,” Katy said as Mary Beth loaded the dishwasher. “He’s nice.”

“Yes, he’s very nice.”

“He said he had a niece and a few about my age that I could play with sometime. What’s a niece and a few, Mommy?”

Mary Beth smiled. “I think he meant a niece and a nephew. The children of a person’s brothers and sisters are called nieces for girls and nephews for boys. They must be his brother Frank’s children.”

“Can we play today?”

“Maybe not today, but soon.”

“We don’t have any nieces and nephews of our own, do we?”

“Nope, sweetie, sorry. I don’t have any brothers and sisters, so I don’t have any nieces or nephews, and you don’t have any aunts or uncles on my side of the family.”

“I have an aunt. Aunt Isabel.”

“Aunt Isabel is just a very good friend in Natchez. She’s like an honorary aunt.”

“Oh. Is Aunt Katherine my ornery aunt, too?”

Mary Beth was tempted to say that Katherine was as ornery as they came, but instead she simply said, “No, Aunt Katherine is your daddy’s sister, so she’s a real aunt and you’re her niece.”

“I don’t think Aunt Katherine likes me.”

“Do you remember Aunt Katherine? You’ve only seen her once, and that was a long time ago.”

“She had a red mouth and looked mean at me.”

Yep, that was Katherine, the witch. Brad’s only sister had breezed into town, hired a lawyer for him, then breezed back to the social scene in Philadelphia. She had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to see or hear of any of them again. The whole sordid affair—embezzlement, jail, scandal—was dreadfully embarrassing to her. It had been embarrassing for Mary Beth, as well, but she hadn’t had the luxury of breezing off anywhere.

“Mommy, can I have another doughnut?”

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

There was another rapping at the front door followed by a feminine “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?”

Now who could that be? Mary Beth wondered as she dried her hands and made her way to the dining area.

Two older women stood there with foil-covered dishes. They looked familiar, but—She suddenly remembered one of them. “Mrs. Carlton?”

Mrs. Carlton, her next-door neighbor from childhood, beamed. “Yes. And it’s so good to see you again, Mary Beth. You’ve grown into a lovely woman.” She hugged Mary Beth with her free hand. “Your mother would be so proud of you. This is my sister Opal McMullen. She moved here six years ago when her husband died. We’ve brought you a little something—homemade rolls and a squash casserole. I know how you used to love my homemade rolls, and I had some in the freezer. Found a squash casserole in there, too. Made just last week, and Opal brought a pint of her strawberry preserves. Nobody makes strawberry preserves like Opal.”

The women set the food on the bar and chatted a few minutes after oohing and aahing over Katy. Soon another car pulled up with another of her family’s former neighbors, bearing a ham and two quilts. Then came the minister’s wife with potato salad and a pillow with a lace-edged pillowcase. Mary Beth was excited to see her old friends and was warmed by their hometown hospitality. She hugged them all and gushed her thanks and reminisced with those who called.

When a very pregnant Dixie Anderson, an old and dear friend from high school, showed up at the door, Mary Beth let out a whoop. Dixie’s dark hair was cropped short instead of being long and lush, and her face was rounder, but Mary Beth would have known her anywhere.

“Dixie Anderson!” she squealed as they hugged. “How wonderful to see you!”

“It’s not Anderson anymore. Russo now. I married Jack Russo the year after we graduated. Golly, it’s good to see you, too. When I heard you were in town, I parked my two-year-old in mother’s day out, and here I am. I brought you some chocolate-chip cookies. My brood eats them by the bushel.” She set the box on the bar. “Looks like you’ve already made a haul. I expect you’ll be up to your a-double-s in cakes and casseroles before nightfall. Everybody was tickled to death to hear you were back in town. Ellen has an appointment, but she’ll be over as soon as she can shake free.”

Dixie hugged her again. “Golly, it’s good to see you. Nobody had heard a thing from you after we read that your mother and daddy had died in that plane crash a few years back. We were sorry to hear about that. And this must be your daughter,” she said, smiling at Katy who was hiding behind Mary Beth. “She’s the image of you when you were that age.”