November
It seemed fitting that Jesse hold his final press conference before the election in The Right Place. Laurel looked over to the corner table of her busy coffee house, where one television reporter with a video camera, two apparent radio reporters and several people with notebooks, representing the newspapers in the county, were all talking to the handsome man in the fedora.
He’d kept his promise to wear it, and the banners around town and the bumper stickers all said Jesse J. Jordan for Sheriff. Laurel felt a swell of pride as she looked at him. Pride and love for the man who’d won her heart just the way he’d sworn to.
“So, if you’re elected sheriff, what’s your first order of business?” one of the radio reporters asked.
“Getting married on Saturday. And if I lose the election, my first order of business will be getting married on Saturday. After that, and a brief honeymoon at an undisclosed location, my second order of business will be convincing the county council to add funds to the sheriff’s department budget for Police Explorer Scouts and a teen ride-along program. There have to be things for the young people to do in this county besides visiting my future bride’s coffee house. My kids, and their friends, have made sure I understand that.”
The reporters were all busily taking notes. Laurel kept smiling. It was all she could do to keep from interrupting the press conference to tell them all how much she loved Jesse. That wouldn’t do his campaign for sheriff any good, except maybe with the married women’s vote, so she just kept polishing the espresso machine.
She needed to set things up for the after-school rush, anyway. The high school would let out soon, and Trent, Jeremy and Ashleigh and all their friends would crowd in here. It would be noisy and hectic, and she’d love every minute of it.
If she got very lucky, all their parents would be in at least once, along with Hank, who’d drop by for his one daily cup of “real” coffee. She would cap off the afternoon rush by sitting with her two sisters and enjoying a visit.
And the future sheriff would come in at least once, threatening to cite everybody for noise pollution when the music got loud. The teenagers would all groan and beg her to fix him a mocha to sweeten him up, or kiss him to make him forget the noise. And she’d probably agree to both.
Laurel smiled again, thinking about it. This place felt like “the right place” in all the right ways. She was definitely home to stay.