She didn’t need a second invitation. “I’m sorry, Doris. I have more important things to do.” Like spend time with her nephew and discover what smelled so good.
* * *
THE ELECT LANDRY for Sheriff campaign headquarters was abuzz with activity in the late morning.
Well, Rutgar, Terrance and Flynn were buzzing. Nate was feeling the dual weight of supporting Julie in the sheriff’s race and wanting to win himself. Harmony Valley was predictable, in its own unpredictable way.
“That forum tonight? It’s a trap.” Rutgar sat on the bench beneath the front window with his leg propped up. “Don’t do it.” His sprain was better. He’d switched from crutches to a cane, but he hadn’t argued when Nate had suggested he sit and elevate his ankle.
Flynn paced the jail with a bouncy walk and a fussy baby in his arms. “Nate can’t bail out of the forum.”
“I’m not bailing out of anything.” Nate stared out the window at Santa Claus across the street. No matter the weather, Santa always delivered. Nate wasn’t going to disappoint. He was going to stand up and answer questions as best he was able, just as he’d tried to do with April’s Daddy Test. He worried more about Julie than himself. The Julie of old was capable of putting up a good fight for office. The Julie who’d arrived in Harmony Valley was more fragile.
“You need a message.” Rutgar tossed his unkempt gray-blond hair over one shoulder. “So you won’t get caught in a trap.”
Ian’s cherubic face contorted. He squirmed and whimpered.
Flynn flicked a nervous glance Terrance’s way.
Terrance didn’t notice. “I hate to agree with Rutgar, but he’s right about traps.” He stared out the door, probably not at Santa across the street. “This is war.”
“Guys, this is a friendly competition.” Nate felt compelled to act like the adult in the room. “Julie got roped into it in a weak moment. I stand by my record and I’ll stand by the vote.”
Terrance walked over to the counter and rested his elbow on top. He looked like he’d turned the corner on grief. There was a steadiness about him. “Julie is being played by Doris. Think about what’s at stake—your job—and fight for it.”
Nate paused. “You don’t think I can win?” Somehow, Terrance’s doubt was worse than his own.
“Let’s talk strategy.” Flynn paced the length of the window. “You need to stand for something. Why not safety? You can talk about how safe the town is. There’s only been one robbery since you’ve been here.”
“Problem.” Rutgar raised a finger. “There weren’t any robberies for years before he came. That makes him vulnerable to attack.”
“Okay.” Flynn paced back with a brow as wrinkled as Ian’s. “You could talk about how you organized the town when the river flooded and closed the roads. Or how you helped rebuild fences after the windstorm.”
“I’m bored.” Rutgar yawned, but it was a fake yawn. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is Nate’s career history. That doesn’t win votes.”
Apparently, none of Nate’s advisors thought he could win. “I’m not telling you anything,” Nate said crisply. “Except maybe you’re all fired.”
Rutgar scowled so hard his gray-blond beard curled beneath his chin.
“Now, Nate.” Terrance came around the counter to sit across from Nate at the desk. “Folks in town like you. Be yourself, except maybe talk a little more and...” He gestured to his cheeks. “Smile a little more.”
Nate frowned.
“Great advice, especially the smiling part.” Flynn stood near Nate’s desk, a melancholy look in his eye. “My grandfather chose you to be sheriff.” His grandfather had passed away soon after Nate came to town. “Do you know why?”
Nate shook his head.
“Because you’re a good person who was in a bad place in life.” Flynn stared down at his son. “You arrested the mayor’s son in Willows and he didn’t like it. Grandpa chose you because you needed a fresh start. He was convinced that’s what Harmony Valley did best—accepting caring, talented people for who they are, and letting them move past mistakes and around dead ends.”
The hair rose on the back of Nate’s neck. That described Julie and what she needed.
“Listen, Sister Mary Sunshine.” Rutgar shook his finger at Flynn. “The past doesn’t win you any votes. Nate needs to deliver a baby or save a kitten. That’ll make all the women swoon.”
Nate allowed himself a half grin. “I saved a box of kittens the other day.”
“Perfect,” Rutgar said. “Swoony women vote for heroic men, even if they do give out tickets unfairly.”
“Unfairly?” Nate stood. He’d had about enough of Rutgar’s so-called help. “I was serious about firing you.”
“Nate, we’re only trying to help.” Flynn must have clutched Ian too tight, because the baby let out a wail.
“I’m just sayin’.” Rutgar spread his arms wide. “I’m a beneficiary of Nate’s favoritism. Three weeks ago, I discharged a firearm in city limits.”
“You told me it was an accident.” Nate tried to pin Rutgar down with his best cop stare.
Rutgar’s laughter ricocheted around the room.
Ian wailed again. Flynn walked faster, jiggling the baby with bigger bounces.
“Doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not.” Rutgar jabbed a finger in Nate’s direction. “You didn’t give me a ticket.”
“Do you want me to cite you today?” Nate dug in his desk for his ticket book. Sad to say it was underneath several wanted bulletins from the FBI. “I will.” Nate slapped his ticket book on the desk and sent Rutgar a warning look.
The old man didn’t heed the warning. He kept smiling.
“Can we just calm down?” Terrance stepped between the men and held out his hands in the universal sign for stop. “And keep our voices down for the baby’s sake?”
“Thank you,” Flynn said over Ian’s cries.
Terrance took the baby from Flynn, bringing immediate silence. Like it or not, he was a child whisperer. “Maybe we’re overthinking this. I mean, Nate’s the incumbent. Familiarity and experience count.” Terrance’s smile turned slyer than a fox. “All the events the town council has planned this week—”
“The circus.” Nate frowned.
“—are designed to simulate how you’d respond in the line of duty.” Terrance smiled down on Ian, who blew bubbles back. “Julie’s never tried policing people from Harmony Valley. I like Julie, but we all know how challenging this place is to a newcomer.”
Nate felt some of the weight lift off his shoulders.
“And look who’s guiding her campaign.” Rutgar lowered his big foot carefully down to the floor.
“Doris.” Flynn grinned. “She and Julie couldn’t be more different. If this thing ran more than a week we might be in trouble, but...”
Nate heaved a guilty sigh of relief. Nothing he’d done before coming to town had prepared him for policing Harmony Valley. Julie would be totally blindsided.
He felt sorry for her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“THIS FORUM WILL open with a statement of qualifications by each candidate.” Mayor Larry wore a muted orange tie-dyed button-down. Formal for him.
Nate hadn’t dressed up. It was blue jeans and a blue checkered shirt, same as always. Despite the earlier pep talk, nerves bumped around his gut like a Super Ball in a small room. He wanted to do well and he wanted Julie to do well. Just not as well as he did.
No one wanted to miss the circus. The church was packed with residents, divided largely by gender—men on the right, women on the left. Mayor Larry stood at the podium where Doris had made her case against Nate the other night, emceeing the event. The town council sat at their usual table opposite Nate and Julie. Duke squirmed from his seat in Julie’s lap.
&
nbsp; “We’ll begin with our current sheriff.” Mayor Larry turned the floor over to Nate.
“Well, I...” Nate felt the town’s eyes upon him. Those Super Balls bounced faster in his gut. He hadn’t thought much about an introduction. He’d never run for anything before. “I’ve been your sheriff for several years. We’ve weathered a storm or two. We’ve put out fires together. And I...I like to think we all know each other. Trust each other. Like each other.” His gaze tripped over sour-looking Doris and moved on to Julie, who sat to his left, nearest her supporters.
Julie looked transformed. Her hair bounced with life at her shoulders. The dark circles were less pronounced. She didn’t breathe as if the next lungful of air might be her last. Harmony Valley was restoring her, body and soul.
“Sheriff...” Mayor Larry prompted.
Nate jolted back to the present and the dilemma of what to say. He couldn’t talk about fairness. He couldn’t talk about his career history. He couldn’t talk about the low crime rate. “That’s about it.”
Duke was sitting in Julie’s lap, pounding his head into her shoulder. Seven o’clock was late for a toddler, too late to be out. She was trying to calm him without making him fuss, but his son was tired and cranky. She jiggled him gently on her knees, but she was fighting a losing battle.
The mayor wanted more from Nate. “And before you came to Harmony Valley?”
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
“I was a sheriff in Willows.”
Rutgar sat in the front row, frowning and shaking his head. He wanted Nate to say more about himself. Terrance nodded his head, encouraging Nate to go on.
Mayor Larry gestured toward Nate, wanting more information.
They wanted him to share something personal?
What happens in the family, stays in the family.
His gaze connected with Julie’s. Tense shoulders, tense lips. She looked as stressed out as he felt.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
“Um...” Nate tried not to squirm the way Duke was, but there was no getting out of it. “And I spent a few years as a patrolman in the Sacramento Police Department. Before that, I served overseas.” He refrained from mentioning he’d been a sniper.
Doris scribbled on her notepad. Across the aisle on Nate’s side of the room, Chad Healy typed on his tablet. He wrote a blog about small-town life in Harmony Valley, mostly gentle satire. He was probably hoping to get a lot of mileage out of the town’s short election season. Nate hoped it wasn’t at his expense.
The mayor hesitated, as if expecting more from Nate. When more didn’t come, he sighed and turned to Julie. “And your qualifications, Ms. Smith?”
Duke let out a frustrated cry, and bent over backward. He would’ve fallen if Julie hadn’t had a firm grip on his waist. Halfway into his chair, Nate reached for him, but Julie gave a miniscule shake of her head. She deftly spun Duke around in her lap and handed him a bribe—a cake pop from the bakery.
The women in the audience nodded and whispered to each other, appreciative of Julie’s parenting skills.
Rutgar muttered what sounded like, “I knew it was a trap.”
Julie drew a breath and began her pitch. “I’ve served with the Sacramento Police Department for years. First as a patrolman, and most recently on the SWAT team.”
“SWAT.” Mayor Larry glanced back at the congregation. “That’s a very violent job.”
“Objection!” Doris rocketed to her feet with such fervor the church seemed to shake. “Favoritism.”
“This isn’t a courtroom, Doris.” The mayor waved at her to sit back down. “I’m simply stating Ms. Smith serves on an intense unit that uses force.”
“Objection!” Refusing to sit, Doris shook her pen at the mayor. “You’re interpreting her words.”
“No. Mad. Words.” Duke’s face crumpled and he threw the cake pop on the floor.
The crowd gasped.
“It’s okay, buddy.” Nate was out of his seat and had his son in his arms before the gasps faded. He began pacing the altar, much as he’d seen Flynn pace with Ian, patting his back, holding him close. “Nobody’s going to shout anymore.” He sent Doris a stern look.
She sat down.
Rutgar turned his back to the female side of the room and shielded a thumbs up from the opposition’s view.
“Sheriff Landry, can you sit?” Mayor Larry’s smile was strained. He was a man of peace and tranquility. The natives were getting restless and he didn’t like it. “Your pacing is distracting.”
“You’re not the one trying to keep a child happy,” Nate said in a tone of voice Duke would approve of.
“Let him walk.” Julie picked up the remains of the cake pop with a tissue. “Can we get on with the questions?”
“Let’s move on to the issues the town council wanted addressed.” Mayor Larry perused a piece of yellow lined paper. “Sheriff Landry, now that the winery tasting room is open, what precautions are being taken to keep drunk drivers off the streets?”
“Objection!” Doris took several steps toward the podium, stopping when she noticed Duke’s trembling lip and Nate’s attempt to calm the toddler down. “The winery has a suggested two-glass limit,” she continued in a softer voice.
“The glass limit was the sheriff’s suggestion.” Mayor Larry took on the rebuttal for Nate, turning to face the crowd. “As was my offering a party bus to and from the winery and Main Street so that downtown businesses might benefit from the winery’s tourism.”
“Well, at least the sheriff’s suggestion didn’t mean he was riding the coattails of others’ successes.” Doris sat back down. “Mr. Mayor, you charge for that bus and then pocket the money.”
Several women on Julie’s side of the room looked like they wanted to shift allegiances. Nate began to breathe easier.
Mayor Larry turned back to the candidates and used a tie-dyed handkerchief to blot the sweat from his thin face. “The next question is for Ms. Smith. Our town is bordered by a small state highway and a river. In the past, both have been used as a dumping ground for garbage. How would you combat the problem?”
“I’ll answer that.” Joe Messina, the mechanic who lived and worked near the east bridge and the river, stood on Nate’s side of the room. “Since we reopened the garage and set up the permanent outdoor art display, on land donated by Mayor Larry, there hasn’t been a dumping problem.”
If anyone was winning the debate at this point, it might have been Mayor Larry. He knew it, too. His smile eased. Even Duke relaxed, laying his head on Nate’s shoulder. His limbs slackened.
“Perhaps we should move on to questions from the audience,” Agnes suggested from the town council table.
“Me first.” Doris raised her hand and then without waiting to be selected, she blurted, “Sheriff Landry, are you aware that our mayor does naked yoga in a public place?”
Nate stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the altar, choosing his words carefully. “I haven’t witnessed Mayor Larry doing yoga.” Everyone knew about the mayor’s preference for yoga down by the river, and most knew he was fully clothed unless they were in the warmer months. Regardless, most of those out walking or jogging before work gave that section of river a wide berth.
“He’s received no citations for public indecency.” Doris was trying to box Nate in, and pretty adeptly, too.
“No one’s complained.” Mayor Larry spoke without turning.
With a smile plumping her cheeks, Doris turned to the assembly. “Does anyone disapprove of the mayor’s practice?”
A few women supporting Julie raised their hands. Nate couldn’t blame them.
“I told you it was a trap,” Rutgar muttered.
“Moving on.” The mayor’s cheeks might have been a bit pink beneath his year-round tan. “The next question from the audience is for Ms.
Smith.”
“Ms. Smith.” Rutgar pounded his cane on the floor. “Why are you running for office here? I can’t think of any reason other than you want to be on the mommy track.”
“Objection!” Doris’s voice rattled the rafters. “It’s the sheriff’s child.”
“But she’s got custody,” Rutgar bellowed back.
Julie blanched and Duke stirred, pushing against Nate’s shoulder. He surveyed his surroundings. His chin jutted forward the way Julie’s did when she got upset and his lower lip began to tremble.
“Can we keep things civil?” Terrance leaned forward to connect his gaze with Doris, who dialed back her tension, and then swiveled his gaze to Rutgar, who crossed his arms and harrumphed.
Nate resumed pacing, trying to reassure Duke in a whisper that everything would be okay. But Duke was having none of it. The precursor to the toddler’s breakdown came in the form of a wail worthy of the siren on the town’s fire truck.
“The question is your reason for running for office.” Mayor Larry tried to keep up the pretext of normal, but he had to raise his voice to be heard.
Duke began to sob.
“I...” Julie hesitated, glancing at Duke. She passed a hand over her shoulder and then raised her voice. “My father was in law enforcement. Fighting crime is in my blood.”
“Sheriff?” Mayor Larry turned to Nate. “Same question.”
“I’m here to protect and serve.” Nate used his deep voice to project his answer over Duke’s sobs. “That includes enforcing the law, settling minor disputes and volunteering to help people like Wilson Hammacker when he needed a ramp built to his front door because his toes were amputated. I’m honored to be a part of this community. I really am, but I’m sorry, folks. That’s all I’ve got to say tonight.” Nate walked toward the door. “It’s past my son’s bedtime.”
Doris’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered. “That’s right. Go, Sheriff. We’ll just ask my candidate more questions.”
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