Prince Charming Wears A Badge

“Here’s where you would be staying.” Poppy gestured to the doorway at the top of the open staircase.

Callie stepped into a large room that held a queen-size bed with brass headboard and footboard, a full-length mirror on a brass stand and a small love seat positioned in a bay window that let in lots of light.

Poppy opened a door to show her a small closet and then crossed the room to open another door. “This is the only room on this floor with a private bathroom.”

“This is a wonderful room,” she told Poppy. “I’d love to stay here.”

Poppy smiled. “I’m so glad to hear that. My daughter, Molly, really loved this room.”

Another question popped into Callie’s head. “So who else is living here right now?”

Poppy pointed to the next doorway down the hall. “This room is being rented by a young man going through a divorce, but he told me just last night that he’d be moving out at the end of the week. So I’ll need to put another ad on Craigslist.”

Callie was wondering if she’d like his room even better when Poppy said, “His is the smallest and has no private bathroom.”

“What about those two rooms?” Callie pointed down the hall. “Is one of them yours?”

“Oh, no. I’ve got my own suite in the attic. Those rooms are rented by my nephew and his two young daughters. I hope that doesn’t make you change your mind. I forgot to mention that there would be children in the house. Although they’re very well behaved.”

Callie smiled. “That’s not a problem at all.” She wasn’t used to being around kids, but how difficult could it be for what she hoped would be a short time before she went back to her old life? And then she remembered who Mrs. Thompson’s nephew was.

“Oh, you might even know my nephew. I think you’re about the same age and he grew up here, too. It’s Tyler Garrett. His sweet little girls are Alexis and Madison.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_37947617-f98c-5d53-bafd-3003180dff94)

LATER THAT MORNING Callie was finally settling into her room. Poppy was Tyler’s aunt. Amazing how much she’d blocked out when she’d moved away.

She’d been surprised to hear that he and his daughters lived with Poppy. She would have expected Tyler had a place of his own. Especially with two children.

Poppy hadn’t mentioned Tyler’s wife. Had Poppy not mentioned her because she wasn’t someone from town whom Callie would remember? Or was Tyler a single dad with custody of his children? He might even be a widower for all she knew.

She’d hung up what she could in the small closet and used the large oak dresser with a beveled mirror for the rest of her things. Then she checked her email on her laptop and didn’t want to think about what she was missing back at work.

Close to lunchtime she decided to take a walk to see how much things had changed in town. She’d really like to go for a run to rid herself of her pent-up energy and frustration, but it was too hot and humid for that. Early morning or dusk would be a better time.

She’d changed into shorts, a tank top and her running shoes earlier, so she closed the door to her bedroom as she left and exited the house through the front door. There were no outside locks on the bedrooms, only a lock when you were inside the room. Obviously the crime level was pretty low and locks weren’t a necessity. Just one more thing she’d have to get used to again while being back in a small town.

She headed the few blocks toward the downtown area, such as it was. Just as Tyler told her, Pratt’s Furniture Store had expanded into the space where Garrett’s Hardware used to be. Next to Pratt’s was a bakery that hadn’t been there before. A gift store was next to it, also new since she’d lived here.

On the other side of the street was the First National Bank, looking exactly as she remembered with its tan-brick façade. She crossed the street when she saw that the little drugstore next to the bank was still there.

This was where she’d hung out after school when she was able. She wondered if they still had the counter and a few booths where they served juicy burgers and shakes so thick you needed a spoon to eat them.

She opened the glass-and-metal door and stepped inside, feeling like a teenager again. Nothing had changed. The counter and booths were still there, the Formica chipping on the tabletops as was the wood laminate on the benches. The stools at the counter, circa 1950s, were metal circles with red-vinyl inserts that had seen better days.

“Callie?” The woman behind the counter was staring at her, eyes wide.

Callie smiled. “June!” She came up to the counter where the woman stood on the other side. “You’re still working here!” She sat on the empty stool in front of June. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” June told her. “And you look like life is treating you okay, too.”

“Thanks. I’m surviving down inside the beltway.” These days she could add “barely” to surviving and still not be accurate enough.

June was probably in her early forties by now. She’d been a young mother working at the drugstore when Callie was in high school. Her husband had gone on disability after he was in a tractor accident at their farm a few miles from Whittler’s Creek and June had taken the job to make ends meet.

Callie ordered a burger and shake, figuring she’d run off the excess calories later. After June sent the order to the short-order cook, she turned back to Callie and asked, “So what brings you to town? I haven’t seen you in what? A decade, at least.”

Callie should come up with an answer for the question that would be asked every time she ran into someone she knew.

“I’ve got some things to take care of in town,” she said vaguely, hoping June didn’t have a follow-up question.

“Well, it’s great to see you.” She had another customer to take care of and she stepped away.

Callie spun her stool a hundred and eighty degrees and looked around again while waiting for her food. A feeling of déjà vu came over her, or at least a step back in time.

It wasn’t long before June delivered her food. Callie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelled the burger in front of her. “Thanks, June.” She put a blob of ketchup on her plate for her fries. “So what have you been up to? How are your kids?”

The two caught up while Callie ate, interrupted occasionally by other customers. So far, no one else had come in that Callie recognized.

She was wiping her mouth after her last bite of burger when the bell over the door rang, signaling that someone was entering the store. Callie turned in that direction. It was her stepsister, Wendy Carter. Their gazes collided. Wendy looked away first, as if uncomfortable. Interesting. Not the same cocky teenager Callie remembered.

She couldn’t help but notice Wendy’s appearance. Her jeans and plaid shirt looked like they’d been washed a hundred times or more. Her hair needed something—a cut, deep conditioning—Callie couldn’t say. And her complexion... Callie had never seen anyone with such a sickly appearance. She was pale, with tinges of green and yellow on one cheekbone. As if she’d been bruised a week or so ago.

“Hello, Callie,” Wendy said stiffly when she came up to the counter. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I got here yesterday,” Callie said just as stiffly.

“What can I get you, hon?” Thankfully, June interrupted their awkward exchange to take Wendy’s order.

Callie had nothing more to say to the stepsister who had mentally and sometimes physically tortured her when they were growing up in the same house.

While Wendy placed a take-out order, Callie pulled out the money she’d stuck in her pocket to pay the bill June had left when she’d delivered Callie’s food. Even the handwritten green checks that had to be added manually were the same as when she was a kid. She didn’t bother asking if they now took credit cards. She’d planned ahead and taken out cash from an ATM before she’d arrived in Whittler’s Creek. Callie laid enough money on the counter to cover the bill, as well as a healthy tip.

“Have you been to see my mom and Bart?” Wendy’s question caught Callie by surprise.

“Not yet.” Not until she gathered her courage.

Wendy didn’t comment, merely nodded and then concentrated on a fingernail.

After waving goodbye to June, Callie was almost out the door when Wendy said just loud enough for Callie to hear, “You don’t belong here.”

Callie turned to Wendy, wondering if she’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

Wendy sneered. “You heard me. Go home. No one wants you here.”

Callie remembered to breathe, in and out, in and out.

When her stepsister turned away, Callie assumed Wendy had nothing more to say.