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TRACI PULLED OFF HER soiled gloves and sat on the front steps of her house. Peter flicked his tail back and forth and yawned, sitting next to the bag of iris and daffodil bulbs at her feet. She had planted the crocus that Sarah gave her and was taking a break from embedding the stones around the flower beds.
“You didn’t get locked out of your house, did you?” Randall said sauntering up the walk with his hands behind his back. “If so, I know a pretty good locksmith.”
“I wouldn’t want to take you away from your important crime-fighting duties, sir,” Traci said smiling up at him. “Plus, I keep a spare key hidden around back.”
“That’s a really bad idea, Tracinda. I’ve gotta advise against leaving spare keys ...”
“Are you going to start that again?” She tossed a glove at him.
“Wait, wait ... before you start hating me again. I brought a peace offering.”
Randall presented her with an iridescent silver gift bag with a pink bow on the handle. She reached through the glitter-covered tissue paper and took out the brand new cellphone. She looked up at him in total shock.
“Your phone is still part of the evidence for the investigation,” he said casually. “No telling how long it’ll take for you to get it back. And, I know how you can’t live without one. So, I thought ...”
“Thank you,” she said pulling him down to sit next to her.
He sat quietly, weaving his fingers together while she opened the package. Was he blushing?
“I heard about the preservation society ceremony at Hazelton House next weekend,” he said looking at his hands.
Peter joined them on the steps and rubbed his face against Randall’s leg.
“Will you be there?” Traci said looking up from the phone. “I mean, I hope you can attend.”
“I will do my best to attend,” he said and tapped his chin. “As a matter of fact, I think I may have signed up to work security for that event.”
“Oh, you think so?”
“Yeah.” He inched closer to her. “So, with their decision ... what does that mean for you?”
“Well, Mr. Kinsey and the CDC requested that the property be transferred over to the Friends of Magnolia Grove Foundation,” she said twirling the ribbon around her fingers. “They’re pretty confident it will happen. So, Hazelton House and Bent Willow Farm will be kept as a community resource. Maybe a working farm and wellness outreach kind of thing. They plan to start the restoration part next year. It’s going to take a lot of work. They want to pull back the modern facade and expose the original logs underneath ...”
“What about you?” he said, pressing closer.
“Well, they asked me to be a docent,” she said and shrugged. “It pays more than my courier job. And it sounds like it could be fun. I accepted.”
“So you’re staying here?”
“Yes,” she said, allowing a grin to slowly slide across her lips. She ran her fingers along the handrail Randall had installed the previous weekend. Another unexpected gift. “I’m staying right here.”
“I see. And no more riding bicycles and recklessly weaving in and out of traffic?” he said, motioning with his hands wildly.
“Listen,” she said pointing at him, “tell me you have not been following me!”
He smiled and waved away her comment. “I may have heard some radio chatter about it.”
Traci powered on her phone and listened for the chime.
“Oh, you charged it for me, too. I love this sound,” she said, as the screen lit up with a photo of her petting Miss Rowena’s cats in the garden. She laughed. It felt good to laugh. This felt good. This moment with Randall felt ... right.
“Not trying to tell you what to do or anything ...” He leaned even closer, their shoulders touching.
“Of course not.” She said and gave him a side-eye glance, preparing for an argument.
“Right now, the only number on your Contact list is mine,” he said looking into her eyes. “Let’s keep it that way.” He leaned toward her for a kiss.
Traci turned her head and snapped a selfie. She looked down at their picture and smiled as she locked it to her Home screen.
“We’ll see.”
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THE END