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KATIE PULLED THE DUSTY sheet off the chair and stood back with her hands on her hips to study the unique piece of furniture. Something about its shape and size triggered an eruption of goose bumps and caused the hair to stand up on her arms.
She took a step back, trying to figure out why it seemed so familiar, and then turned to the portrait of the woman hanging behind her. The widow of Lacewood stood gracefully with one hand resting comfortably on a high-backed chair. Her gaze went back and forth between the two objects. Yes. This chair.
Carved from a deep-hued wood, the heirloom was a magnificent work of art. Two ornately carved trees with flowing limbs blended to form the arched back of the piece, leaving a perfectly formed heart in the middle.
Reaching out, Katie placed her fingertips exactly where the widow’s hand lay. Her breathing deepened as she closed her eyes and tried to connect with the past. When a tear inexplicably squeezed out and rolled down her cheek, she jerked her hand away and took a hurried step back.
The low hum of an approaching vehicle drew Katie away from her discovery. Picking up the sheet, she carried it to the porch and shook off the worst of the dust while keeping her attention on the curving lane. She liked that she could hear someone coming from a long way off. The hum of an engine was markedly out of place here, a disturbance to the quiet rhythm of nature.
When the vehicle finally came into view, Katie’s mouth curved into a welcoming smile. She waited for the car to come to a stop before walking to the wrought iron gate and holding it open. “I must be pretty important to get a visit from the sheriff himself.”
Bo smiled. “Judging from the talk in the town, you are indeed.”
Katie’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”
“You know how small towns are. Everybody wants to know everybody’s business.” He lifted the brow of his hat, so she could see his face more clearly. “And since you’ve kind of been a recluse out here, there’s all sorts of rumors flying.”
“Oh, really?” Katie crossed her arms. “Such as?”
“Well...the one I heard this morning is you’re from California or someplace weird like that—and you’re hiding.”
“Hiding? From who?”
“The authorities. You killed your husband and took all his money, you see.”
“How’d they find out so soon?”
The dimples disappeared, but only for a moment, until he caught on to her joke. “Small town people have ways of knowing these things.” He shook his head and laughed. “The CIA has nothing on the local grapevine in New Hope, I can assure you.”
“I understand. Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.”
“Exactly.” The sheriff glanced down sheepishly. “You know, they do usually start with a speck of truth—but if the facts aren’t exciting enough, they make up the rest.”
“And if it’s a secret, then it spreads like wildfire.”
“You’ve got it.” He smiled broadly again, and appeared relieved that she understood. “Now don’t get me wrong. The residents of New Hope can keep a secret—it just takes the whole town to do so.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint everyone, but there isn’t much excitement out here.” Katie turned toward the door and opened it. “I’ve only been here a few weeks, but if you came all the way out here to report on the progress—come on in.”
Bo’s face turned crimson. “Well, if you don’t mind. People are curious about what you’ve been up to, now that you mention it.”
“Can’t Will fill them in? He’s supposed to come out later to help me in the garden.”
“Will? No. He’s not like that.” The sheriff was serious now. “He’s never been one to gossip or share what isn’t his to reveal.”
Katie turned at the change in his tone.
“Anyway. No one would dare ask him.”
“Why? Are they afraid of him?”
“Afraid of Will?” He laughed. “No. Not afraid.” He lifted his hat off his head and replaced it, as if having to think through what he was going to say. “I guess they respect him too much. Like I said, he’s not one for gossip.”
“Then I’m not the only one?”
Bo raised his eyebrows questioningly. “The only one, what?”
“The only one who can’t get anything out of him other than yes or no.”
The remark caused a laugh. “No, you’re not the only one.” His smile faded as he reflected on the comment. “Will’s been through a lot. He’s...”
The sound of another vehicle arriving interrupted whatever the sheriff was going to say. They both turned and watched Will’s black pickup truck pull into view.
Bo lifted his hand as Will turned off the engine and opened the door. “We were just talking about you.”
Will stepped out of the truck and patted his leg. A dog jumped out of the cab and followed on his heel as he walked to the back and lowered the tailgate. “Probably not a very interesting conversation.” He turned his head toward the porch, his eyes piercing the distance as they locked on Katie. There was a strength and a detached coldness about this man he didn’t bother to hide.
“I was explaining to Miss McCain here about how the townspeople are hungry for some gossip but they can’t get anything out of you.”
“I’d tell them if it was any of their business.” Will walked toward them with a chainsaw in one hand and a gas can in the other. “This is Zeke,” he said nodding toward the dog. “You said you wanted to tackle the back of the property.”
It wasn’t posed as a question, and he didn’t seem inclined to wait around for an answer. The sheriff stepped forward and held the door open, and Will walked through.
“Give me a minute and I’ll help you,” Katie called after him.
Will turned to look at her with an expression she couldn’t read. “Suit yourself,” he responded, before continuing into the house. A few moments later the back door slammed.
“Thanks for stopping by, Sheriff.” Katie stepped through the door. “I haven’t gotten very far, but you’re welcome to come inside.”
Bo touched her arm to stop her before she made it into the foyer. “You’re not in over your head, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean clearing the garden area and such. It’s backbreaking kind of work. Why don’t you hire someone?”
Katie laughed. “Pretty sure Will intends to do the hard part. I’ll pull the branches and things he cuts down out of his way. If he doesn’t have to keep stopping, it will get done faster.”
“Okay. Well, don’t overdo it.” Bo held his lower back as he talked. “I’d help but I’ve got an old softball injury. Can’t bend the way I used to. Know what I mean?”
“I’ll admit I was a little sore after going up and down ladders last week, but I’m in better shape now than I’ve ever been.”
“I don’t care what they say about you, Katie-Mac,” Bo said, shaking his head. “You’re one tough woman.”
Katie paused and blinked at the comment. “Excuse me?”
The sheriff’s face lost all color before reddening by about three shades. “Sorry, Miss McCain. Umm, Katie-Mac is your nickname in the gossip pool.”
Katie smiled and repeated it. “Katie-Mac. I like it.”
“You do?” Bo appeared relieved.
“Yes. I do.”
“That’s very understanding of you. Now no one else will have to worry about slipping up like I did.”
They stood inside the giant foyer now. “I see you’ve done some cleaning.”
“Yes, it’s a start. No more leaves or glass or dirt.”
“Makes a big difference,” he said. “You’re doing a nice job.”
“Thanks. I know it sounds strange, but I feel at home here—almost like I’ve lived here forever.”
“Maybe you did, in a different life.” Bo laughed, making it obvious he had spoken the words in jest—but Katie couldn’t help feeling he might be speaking the truth.