She was mad, and she had a right to be. Abby Ruth was like a momma bear when it came to Jenny and Grayson, something he’d admired until she turned on him.
The palm of his hand hit his desk with a thwap. “I can’t very well put a ring on your daughter’s finger if I don’t have a job.”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“Yesterday, I got news that another guy threw his hat in the election ring at the last minute. And rumors have been flying that my priorities are too far on the Jenny side for me to do an effective job as sheriff.”
“Well, that’s complete bullsh—”
He raised a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Perception is everything. It’s less than two months until election time and I can’t lose traction now. If I don’t win, I won’t have a job. If I don’t have a job then I sure can’t support a family.”
Abby Ruth’s tight expression relaxed, and for a moment she looked a bit worried, which sent Teague’s nerves into overdrive. “Jenny know about this?”
“No, but the timing of her little surprise kind of collided with the news.”
“I’m sorry, Tadpole. I hadn’t heard about the election. That’s not good news at all.”
“Please don’t call me Tadpole.” Every time Aunt Bibi referred to him as Tadpole, his manly nether regions wanted to head into hiding. Jenny still teased him about one night when they were kids and she’d snuck into his bedroom to add a little something extra to the water glass on his bedside table. He’d woken in the middle of the night, parched with thirst, and downed the entire thing. What he’d imagined were tiny ice cubes were, in fact, baby frogs. To this day, he couldn’t stand to see frog legs on a restaurant menu. “You do and I won’t be able to serve up any more grandchildren.”
“Right. Sorry. So who thinks they can out-sheriff you?”
“Guy’s name is Angus Hillen.”
“Never heard of him, but it’s darn sneaky of him, coming in at the last second like that.”
“Or smart. One misstep and I could kiss this gig goodbye.”
“You’re good at your job. If not here, you’ll get another somewhere else.”
His mouth opened, but the words stuck in his throat for a few seconds. Finally, he said, “And uproot Grayson again? Abby Ruth, you and I both know that’s not going to work.”
She bit the side of her cheek. “Well, this is not going to be a problem. You just fix stuff with my girl. I’ll make sure this town does the right thing.”
That was not exactly the response he’d hoped for. She’d make a bigger mess of things for sure. “Please stay out of it.”
“Tad—Teague, I know a little something about gossip, and I also know about making sacrifices for the sake of the job. Trust me, I’ve got regrets of my own in that territory. Not always the best approach.”
Easy for her to say. Old-fashioned or not, he wanted to be able to take care of his family, and he wanted to do it here in Summer Shoals.
“There’s power in numbers. And in this case, that means number of votes.” She tossed both hands up like a preacher on Sunday. “Now hear me out. Cady stock is tough from our DNA to our cowboy boots, but you still wield big power over Jenny. Although she may not show her emotions right up front, that doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting her. You think about that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Abby Ruth pulled out her phone and worked her thumbs over it. Three swooping noises followed, indicating she was firing off texts.
When had that woman become so tech savvy? “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Taking care of business. Gotta run.” And she was gone.
* * *
As artist-in-residence at the Summer Shoals High School, Jenny spent three full days each week in the art labs. Sometimes she helped the full-time art teachers with their classroom projects. Other days, like today, she did special workshops on different topics. Luckily, today’s had been on macro photography, one her of favorites.
It had successfully distracted her for the morning hours. Now, as she double-checked and put away the school’s handful of SLR cameras, her conversation with Teague came rushing back.
She knew he was upset about the house, but still, his recent standoffishness made her cold down to her very soul.
He was avoiding her. What if he’d changed his mind about them?
Second thoughts could be powerful. And it wasn’t as if she’d come into their relationship without baggage. Heck, with an ex-husband, a nine-year-old son, and a hell-raisin’ mother, her life was like an airport conveyer belt full of mismatched pieces. Locked-up black briefcase, colorful backpack, and screaming red gun case.
She had to smile at her own mental imagery.
The storage cabinet closed and locked, she reached for her purse and the lunch Maggie had packed for her this morning. After all these years of taking care of her ex, Grayson, and herself, it felt nice to have other people looking out for her again. She’d enjoyed living out at Summer Haven these past couple of months more than she’d ever imagined.
But she’d also known she wanted to settle into a new family rhythm with Grayson and Teague. And as the picture of the cute little church-house with its pretty picket fence popped into her mind, her arm went limp and her purse dropped to the inside of her elbow. She stood there and stared dumbly at a cluster of empty student desks.
How could she have been so stupid?
She’d bought a house assuming she and Teague were headed toward marriage. He’d said he loved her. Wanted to be with her and Grayson. But it wasn’t as if he’d actually gotten down on bended knee and proposed.
Had she completely jumped the gun?
Thankful for the empty classroom, she sat her purse on the desk and sank into the chair.
Her phone vibrated and exploded into the tone of a machine gun, indicating a text from her mom. Jenny fumbled with the zipper and pulled out her cell to look at the screen.
ABBY RUTH: Teague’s got competition.
JENNY: What?
ABBY RUTH: Write-in candidate now on the ballot.
JENNY: For sheriff?
ABBY RUTH: No, for dogcatcher. Jesus, girl!
JENNY: Damn it.
ABBY RUTH: To hell. But I’ve got a plan.
Of course you do. Jenny clutched the phone to her chest and tried to breathe. No wonder Teague had been so short-tempered yesterday. But he still wasn’t in the clear with her, because instead of acting like a bear with an arrow in his paw, he should’ve told her. Shared his concern—maybe even his fear—with her.
She snatched up her purse and lunch and headed to the teacher’s lounge. She wasn’t officially a teacher, but mingling with the faculty during her short time in the school had given her a good opportunity to make a few friends her own age and get a general feel for Summer Shoals.
The small room was already rocking with chatter, and the whole space smelled of salty microwave meals and scorched popcorn. Jenny plopped her things down beside Laura Carmichael, a senior English teacher. “That darn shop teacher has been in here again, hasn’t he?” she asked Laura.
Dressed today in a white wig and shoes sporting big square buckles that could be her take on either Martha Washington or Beethoven, Laura grimaced up at Jenny. “Murphy Blackwood’s like a hit-and-run nuker. Stinks up the place and then runs out to his classroom in the portable buildings, leaving his legacy behind him.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose but slid into a chair. “One thing I can say for his lunch odors, they always make whatever I have seem appetizing, even if they’re leftovers.”
“There you go.” Laura bit into a sandwich and chomped cheerfully.
“You’ve lived in Summer Shoals for several years, right?”
“Yep. Moved here thinking I’d teach for a year and then move on to a bigger city. Crazy thing is, I love living here. That was five years ago.”
Jenny fumbled through the contents of her lunch. Thank goodness there was no tub of Sera’s evil, body-cleansing ice cream. “
So you’ve been here long enough to have a pulse on everything going on.”
“Don’t know about that. I wouldn’t describe a woman who’s as happy to curl up with Dickens or Shakespeare a social butterfly.”
“What do people around here think of the sheriff?”
Laura looked at Jenny over her wire-rimmed glasses. “Are you trying to find out if your boyfriend is going to be crowned prom king?”
“It’s way more serious than a popularity contest.”
“Not when it comes to the women around here. Let’s be honest, Jenny, probably nine out of ten females voted for Teague because the man is hot.”
“But…but…that’s silly. You should care about your sheriff’s qualification, not the way he—”
“Looks in a pair of tight uniform pants?” Laura laughed and wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, whatever it takes to win the vote, I say. Believe me, if he’d ever looked my way before you hit town, I’d’ve let him rock me out of my clogs.”
Jenny wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or jealous. She decided to take it as the compliment it was. “Well, just because he has the most grab-able butt in Bartell County, he still makes me crazy sometimes.”
Laura leaned her elbows on the table. “Oh, tell me more. I’ve been thinking of trying my hand at writing an erotica novel. You give me enough details and I’ll immortalize our hunky sheriff between the sheets of my…book.”
Lord, if Teague wasn’t already on enough of a tear. He’d blow a vein if he found out he was starring in Laura’s fiction and Jenny knew he was being cast as a Fabio hero. “I don’t mean that kind of crazy…”
Laura gave her a pointed look.
“Okay, fine, that way too. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Jenny finally settled on opening a small bag of trail mix and lowered her voice. “Apparently, someone has filed to run against him in the November election.”
Laura twirled a carrot. “Oh, yeah, that’s probably Angus. You know how it is, people retire and they’re suddenly at loose ends. Gotta find something to do with all that time on their hands.”
“So he’s not a threat?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Apparently, he was some type of big shot cop in Atlanta for years. The guy is definitely more than qualified, and being from here is always a plus to the locals.”
Jenny’s heart felt as though someone had reached inside her chest and given it an Indian rug burn. Teague wasn’t faced with someone random tossing his hat in the ring. This was a guy who really could garner some votes.
How long had Teague known he had real competition in the upcoming election? And even more important than that, why hadn’t he said a word about it to her?
Chapter 5
Abby Ruth parked her dually in the large parking lot near the bakery and turned to Maggie, sitting in the passenger seat with a clipboard on her lap. They wore matching white shirts and black pants. “You remember the plan, right?”
“Yes,” Maggie said, tapping her clipboard. “You only went over it twenty times.”
“No need to get huffy,” Abby Ruth snapped. “I just want to be sure we’re on the same page so we get good data.”
Maggie laid a gentle hand on Abby Ruth’s arm. “You approach Summer Shoals folks with that my-way-or-the-highway demeanor and you’ll have them running you out of town.”
Abby Ruth’s shoulders dropped from their tense position near her ears. Maggie was right. She needed to relax. Nothing good would come from her spinning folks up just because she was unhappy.
Lord, she needed Sera about now. The youngest of the Summer Haven gals, Serendipity had twice the energy of that battery bunny and more calm than a bottle of Prozac, and if anyone could keep Abby Ruth on an even keel on a rocky day, it was her. Unfortunately, Sera was back in California for the foreseeable future.
“Maybe we should do this together,” Maggie said.
“No, if we split up, we can cover double the territory. And I don’t have to tell you we need to keep this on the DL. If Teague finds out what we’re up to, he’ll have a hissy fit.”
“You never did say if it’s a crime to pretend to be Gallup Poll surveyors.”
“It’s like I always say. What people don’t know won’t hurt ’em.”
Maggie sighed and reached for the door handle. “I’ll start at Curl Up and Read.”
“Good, let’s meet back here in an hour. That should give us plenty of time to get a handle on people’s voting plans.”
“Channel your inner-Sera,” Maggie warned.
Abby Ruth shook out her shoulders and released a cleansing breath. She could do this.
Outside, Maggie and Abby Ruth parted ways. Abby Ruth immediately spotted a woman wearing a sundress with a couple of shopping bags looped over her arm, so she slid a pencil from behind her ear and sidled up to the woman. “Good afternoon. I’m conducting a Gallup Poll on the candidates in the upcoming elections in small towns across the state. How well do you know the candidates on your ballot?”
The woman smiled confidently. “I would say I’m informed.”
“Excellent.” Abby Ruth pretended to scratch something down on the paper on her clipboard. “Good to be in the know on things like this. And who will get your vote for sheriff come November? Do you plan to reelect the tried-and-true get-it-done Castro or take a big risk with the new write-in candidate?”
“Isn’t it wonderful that we actually have someone running against our sheriff this year? And Angus Hillen isn’t just some write-in. He’s a retired detective from Atlanta. Decorated, even.”
Well, damn, that wasn’t good news. “You don’t say.”
“I was just talking to Dottie at the diner. Folks were saying it’s never good to keep the same people in office for too long. New ideas and all that.”
“What’s wrong with how things have been going in Bartell County?”
The pretty blonde fluttered her lashes like she was searching for an answer. “Not a thing.”
This woman was about as silly as the flowers on her too-bright dress. What kind of woman in her thirties wore a toddler print like that anyway? “Then why change?” Abby Ruth said from between her teeth. She should get a pat on the back for using her non-condescending voice.
She shrugged. “Well, why not?”
Abby Ruth tried like heck to hold her tongue and keep from giving this woman a schooling in local politics. She patted her hip, pretending the timer on her phone had buzzed. “Oops. Our time is up.” She tilted her head and smiled. At least she tried her best to smile. She’d been told when she was mad the best she could do was junkyard dog. “They only let me have a limited time for each entry. Thank you so much for your time this afternoon.”
“Thanks for letting me voice my opinion,” Sundress Sally said.
Nincompoop. If she wasn’t bright enough to know when she’d been bullshit about a poll, she sure couldn’t be trusted to vote right.
A man in a John Deere baseball cap walked toward Abby Ruth, giving her the once-up-and-down eye. Now that looked like a way smarter man. She sauntered over to him and shot him her best gimme-all-the-scoop smile. “How you doing today, sugar?”
“Right good,” he said.
“I’m representing the Gallup Poll and collecting data from smart voters like you related to the upcoming elections in small towns across Georgia. Mind answering a quick question for me?” She tapped the pen against her pursed lips, and she had his attention then.
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Great. Who will you be casting your vote for sheriff this year? Castro or—”
“Easy one. Hillen.”
Abby Ruth stomped a booted foot and restrained herself from bopping Mr. Handsome on the noggin. “Interesting. Seems most people prefer the very capable Castro.” She pretended to jot notes on her clipboard then snugged it against her chest so he couldn’t see the entire page was blank except for two columns labeled “Castro” and “Hillen.”
“Hillen’s got experience, and that young sheriff has
done fine, but I hear he’s got himself a serious girlfriend, and you know what that means. He’s going to be busy with honey-dos. Hillen ain’t got nothing but time on his hands. He can stay focused.”
“Well, that’s complete crapola. Haven’t you ever heard that behind every great man is a strong woman?”
“Yeah, she’s behind him nagging his ass.” Mr. Handsome grinned and pushed back his hat to reveal more of his sunburned face. “I bet you’re a real pistol. Want to grab a beer one night?”
“Not on your life. You don’t even know how to vote.” Abby Ruth spun on her Lucchese boot heel and stalked away, not stopping until she was at the other end of the block in front of the library. Surely some well-read people might have half a brain.
She continued the clever ruse for the next hour. At the end, she prayed like heck Maggie was hearing better feedback than she was. The public was obviously split on how they planned to vote, but the sheet of paper on her clipboard held five fewer hashmarks under “Castro” than it did under “Hillen.”
And that wouldn’t do. Not at all.
* * *
Jenny’s nerves had been on edge since her lunch conversation with Laura. Why hadn’t Teague confided in her about the election predicament? What was his reaction to the house really about—the election or his commitment to her? Everything that felt so right and so sure a few days ago now felt wobbly. And that scared her. She needed to find out exactly how much a threat this other candidate was.
The minute the last bell rang and the kids flooded the hallways of Summer Shoals High School, Jenny zipped a text to her mom, asking if she could pick up Grayson from school.
Abby Ruth’s immediate response was I’m on it.
That was one thing about Abby Ruth Cady. If you wanted something done, done fast and right, she was your woman.
That gave Jenny time to make a pass through town, confirming Angus was, in fact, the candidate opposing Teague. By the time Jenny made it to Icing On The Cake, she’d already stopped at the diner, Holloway’s Hardware, and chatted up Angelina Broussard, who had been toting a stack of novels out of the library. People were all saying the same thing: Angus Hillen was no fly-by-night crackpot. He’d been well respected in Atlanta, he was a hometown Summer Shoals boy, and he was a downright good guy.
Come a Little Closer Page 4