As I started to tell Scott the part of Michael’s story he’d missed, he picked up two more marshmallows and put them on his stick. He toasted them with the precision of a scientist, striving for a perfect even golden brown on all sides. Scott placed them on the cracker and chocolate he’d prepared and put the top on as I wound up my story.
“Thanks for sharing that.” He took a bite. “And for teaching me how to make s’mores.”
I considered making another one but remembered the times I’d overdone it as a kid and had gotten sick.
He finished his treat and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Kelly, I’ve always felt I understood why you and the Sentinels do what you do in terms of helping people, but I realize now it was only on an intellectual level. Now I know inside what it means to be an emotional recipient of the group’s support. I never felt alone during the kidnapping ordeal.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I know the Sentinels will be happy about it as well.”
“It was a dark time for me, and all of you helped me through it. You won’t hear me ever try to dissuade any of you from helping others,” Scott said.
I wondered if this would apply to saving the drowning kidnapper. For a split second, I considered not saying anything regarding the incident but immediately rejected the thought. He’d asked about the rest of the afternoon. Omitting was a form of lying, and I wouldn’t go there.
“What’s next for you and the group?” he asked.
Putting it off, however, was fair.
“We’re still trying to help Phil with the wine theft and find out who murdered Eric. Did you have a chance to see the charts referring to them when you were there?”
He shook his head. “I was too worried about Michael to notice anything.”
I filled him in on what had happened and what we knew.
“Right now, the Sentinels want to do their best to support this event. After it’s over, we’ll have a meeting and dig in. Would you like to join us? You’ve seen how it works. We all brainstorm and figure out a plan. The more minds at work, the more likely we’ll figure something out.”
“I’d like to attend. Any way I can give back is important to me.”
“I’ll let you know when the next meeting is.” I shook my head. “It’s hard to believe it was only yesterday morning Phil was arrested. Everything around Phil and Eric ground to a halt when the search and rescue bell sounded.”
The fire crackled and sparks flew in the air, dying before they came close to us.
Scott leaned back. “So, you grew up with campfires like this?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve made many of them myself. We did overnight trips with our guests in the summer.”
“Like sleeping out in the open? Did you have a tent?”
I laughed at the incredulous tone in his voice. “It varied. Most of the time we stayed at camps we’d created over the years. They had cabins or tents and corrals for the horses.”
“You said most of the time…that means not all.”
“Correct. We did a few trips each year where we slept out in the open in sleeping bags. Just like in the Old West. We tied up the horses and brought the dogs with us to guard them.”
“Let me get this straight. You slept on the ground, with only the starry night sky for a roof.”
“Correct again.”
He shook his head. “Michael summed it up when he called you a Wyoming cowgirl.”
“I think I just heard my name spoken,” Michael said as he joined us.
Scott laughed. “You did. I was commenting on how aptly you described Kelly this afternoon.”
“No lie. I made a good choice when I hired her.”
Scott eagerly reached for his roasting stick. “Kelly taught me how to make s’mores. Would you like one?”
“Maybe later. I’m in the middle of a glass of fine cabernet in the barn. Using it to wash down chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallow would be a crime.”
“Let me know when,” Scott said. “I was about ready to head back in to talk to the guests, but I can come out here and make you one any time.”
“No need to come back. Everything is going fine and there are plenty of people the attendees can talk to if they have questions.” He held out two boxes. “Two of the guests won’t arrive until late tonight. Their plane was delayed. I thought you two might like their dinners.”
The word dinner made me realize how hungry I was. “I’d love one. It’ll keep me from embarrassing myself by following the appetizer trays around the room.”
He handed us each one and left. I opened the box and found a colorful salad with a multitude of vegetables including corn, beets, and green beans layered on fresh lettuce leaves. Strips of tender seasoned chicken crisscrossed the top. Two herb rolls occupied the corners of the box. Perfect.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. I had a feeling Scott was as famished as I was.
I decided this was a good time to tell Scott about my dive in the ocean. Good food and the distraction of eating might help.
I took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and said, “Scott—”
Before I could continue, Michael came out again. “I just got an update from Stanton. Thought you’d like to know. They haven’t caught the handler yet, but the prints they found gave them his name, Andrew Winslow. He has quite a record.” He chuckled and looked at me. “He also filled me in on the rest of the afternoon.”
I rushed in and said, “That’s what I was about to tell Scott.”
“You’ve had quite a day. Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You found then rescued Julie and me, saved a drowning man, and taught the gourmet cook Scott Thompson how to make s’mores. Quite a full, diverse day.” He turned to go. “Talk to you two later.”
Scott put his fork down. “Drowning man?”
“I was just about to get to that.”
I told him everything. He went back to his salad as he listened, albeit eating more slowly. My heart beat faster as I got to the part about jumping in to save the kidnapper and keeping my distance so he couldn’t drag me down.
When I finished, Scott shook his head. “You’re going to turn my hair gray sooner than later. Before you know it, I’ll qualify to be a Silver Sentinel.” He continued working on his salad.
That was it. No frowns. No words of caution.
Puzzled, I picked up a forkful of salad and began to eat.
Scott closed the lid of his box. “That hit the spot. I’m sorry the guests had their plane delayed, but I sure enjoyed their dinner.”
He picked up his roasting stick. “Now, for dessert. One more. The others were appetizers.”
Scott began cooking his marshmallows. “I’ve been thinking, Kelly. What I know about you from the past, today’s events, and what I heard about your upbringing, I realized I’ve never met anyone like you. Not even close.”
I didn’t know if this was good or bad.
“I think that’s why I’ve worried so much about you. It’s hard for me to imagine someone doing the things you’ve done and not getting hurt.” He pulled his perfect marshmallows away from the flames. “I’ve come to a decision. I’m at peace with who you are, how you act, and the risks you take. It’s you. You’re as careful as you can be. I know that. I’m not saying I won’t worry, but…I’m at peace.”
A shiver went through me. My ex-husband had never stopped trying to change me. He gave up and took up with my best friend instead.
“Thank you, Scott. I appreciate it. What you said means a lot to me.”
Trust, together with honesty, and letting me be myself were my top three criteria for a relationship. I’d experienced the first with Scott in the past and now heard the second one from him. I had a sharp intake of breath and my heart beat a little faster…only this time not from fear. I wondered if Scott and I—
My thoughts were interrupted by a server offering us appetizers.
“No, thanks,” I said.
The dinner had done the trick.
Scott declined as well. “Let’s go back inside and see if we can be of any assistance. I’m refueled and ready to go.”
He took my box and threw both into the recycling bin as we rejoined the party.
I’d get back to my thoughts later.
Sparky was the life of the party…literally. He was running in circles, bucking, leaping, twirling, and twisting. Dancing like only a goat could do. Garl had the end of Sparky’s lead; otherwise, I’m sure he would’ve jumped on the wine and cheese table and tap danced his way through the bottles and trays. Toby remained sprawled in the position he’d assumed when he came in.
Phil began singing using “tas” and “das” punctuated by whistling, and he started to dance. He was doing an admirable rendition of “Zorba the Greek.” Almost everyone in the room watched and clapped in time with the song. Scott and I joined in with the clapping. Suddenly, Phil grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him. He loved line dancing and knew I did as well. Soon a number of guests had joined us and we wound our way through the room. Phil finally stopped singing after a final “ta da.”
The dancers all laughed. I heard comments about not having so much fun in years and what a fantastic event this was.
I hadn’t noticed several large, heavyset men in various corners of the room when I had come in. They stood in the background, in the shadows as much as possible. One took a sip from a small bottle of Pellegrino. Probably the bodyguards. I went to the back door and looked out. Two veterans stood on the fringe of the barn’s outside light. Michael had said there would be patrols as well.
The kind of carefree moments the guests had had with Sparky and Phil might not come often. Who knew money could carry such a burden? I wondered if any of them had received recent threats.
I hoped not for their sake, as well as the local police, who had a lot on their plate. There was still Phil’s situation to resolve and Eric’s murder. The Succulent Saviors said poachers had been arrested near where his body was found. Had one of them or the handler, Andrew Winslow, killed him?
Even though Julie and Michael said they’d been treated well, if Eric threatened the poachers’ opportunity to be monetarily covered for the rest of their lives as the handler had said, that gave a strong motive to silence him. Maybe we’d find out once Winslow was arrested.
Life in prison would give him a strong motive to talk if someone else was to blame for Eric’s death.