Skinny Dipping Season (26 page)

While the girl admired her bracelet, Cherry whispered something to Ellie. Ellie shook her head and walked away.

“What's wrong?” I asked Cherry, coming to stand beside her.

“Ellie isn't being careful enough. Anyone could walk away with one of the bracelets and then we'd be out five bucks.”

I raised one eyebrow. “A shoplifter here? Really?”

“Okay. Whatever! I'm not doing that stuff again. And don't act that way. It has nothing to do with you or J. D.”

A few minutes later, Ellie made her sale and pulled out the money box from under the table. I touched her shoulder and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

“I'm glad you're here,” Ellie giggled.

“Me too!” Cherry said. “Ellie has been scaring off people with her sales pitch. Everyone likes you, so we'll get a few more customers if you stand right here.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Ellie glanced up from counting her money. “Everyone is always happier when you're around, Elizabeth.”

I crossed my arms around myself and stared at the bracelets, afraid to show her how much her words had touched me.

“Aw, Ellie, you made her cry!” Cherry said.

“Hey, Cherry. Since when did you become all businessy and stuff?” Connor, Luke, and Kaitlyn walked up to stand in front of the bracelets. I hadn't seen them since the Fourth of July. Connor and Kaitlyn seemed no worse for wear. But Luke stood a couple of feet behind Kaitlyn as if he was afraid to get too close to me. I had heard that the judge was requiring him to do community service at the animal shelter. Maybe being around all those cute animals would remind him to be careful with others' lives.

Kaitlyn picked up a blue bracelet that matched her shirt and twisted her mouth in the corner, analyzing the craftsmanship. Her bra straps were coming out of her tight-fitting T-shirt. Cherry stared at it, then down at her own light-blue butterfly T-shirt.

“Yo!”

Elliot's head popped up between Connor and Kaitlyn. His unexpected appearance startled them. Their eyes widened at his black-dyed hair with the shock of red on one side, a diamond-stud earring he'd “borrowed” from my mother, and expensive black jeans.

Elliot smiled at Cherry. “You guys have the busiest booth around here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I should have helped you make those when I had the chance. I could use a cut of the big profit you're going to make today.”

“Hey, no cutting in on my business idea, Elliot. Find your own gig,” said Cherry with a lopsided smile. The other kids shifted nearby.

Kaitlyn pushed her chest out and spoke in a voice she didn't think I could hear. “Luke's dad is gone for the weekend and his stepmom is busy. So he pretty much has the house to himself. He's having people over tonight and you can come, Cherry. Bring your friend, if you want.”

Elliot waded through the strands of thread, trying to match the exact color of his T-shirt. He ignored Kaitlyn.

“I don't think so,” Cherry said slowly.

Ellie handed Kaitlyn a pink bracelet. “This one matches your bra strap.”

For a moment, Kaitlyn looked embarrassed. But Cherry did an uncharacteristic thing and put her arm around Kaitlyn's shoulder. “I'll give you a discount.”

T
he last log thrower had long since finished his quest for glory, the inflatables lay in collapsed pools of color on the lawn behind the Chamber of Commerce, and folding chairs and tables were stacked against a white rental truck. A mile away on Winding Road, the Timberfest dinner-dance was just getting started. The Amble Inn was full. Cars spilled out along the edge of the gravel shoulder, where the sun cast long, spindly shadows.

Tiny white lights shrouded the log-framed entrance. Inside, the lobby and dining room were lit by hundreds more. Dressed in a demure pink-cotton floral sundress, with my hair curling around my face, I stood inside the entrance and scanned the crowd for J. D.

Nestor sat at a table nearby. He savored the attention he was getting from a crowd of white- and blue-haired women. They were trying to pry his gardening and cooking secrets from him . . . again. Someone really should have told them not to bother.

J. D. had been busy all day. Like me, the town was ignoring the fact that he had been at the center of the most talked-about fight in years. Cherry and Ellie had invited Elliot to hang out with them this evening while they watched a Harry Potter marathon on TV. Right now, the kids were probably eating pizza and watching Harry outwit Voldemort to save Hogwarts. Ellie was already planning their next venture and Sandy joked that we might have created a pint-sized business monster.

A band played in the newly renovated dining room. A scruffy, long-haired singer smiled at the older ladies. They were amazingly good for a small-town dinner-dance. I spotted Marva draped in a shawl of raffle tickets. She flitted from group to group, selling one arm's length for $20. The prize was a new snowmobile donated by Howie's Motor Sports in Gaylord. Marva told me earlier in the day, with a wink, that the city council had refused Dylan's donation from his own ATV dealership. Needless to say, Dylan and his friends opted to skip the dinner tonight.

Sheriff Howe stood in the corner by the bar with a petite, gray-haired woman: Mrs. Howe. She wore a red dress and an open smile. The ladies had introduced her to me at Cookee's. When I'd held out my hand, she had embraced me instead. Hopefully that meant Sheriff Howe would warm up to me over time as well. Across from Sheriff and Mrs. Howe were Sandy Miller and Deputy Bob Kettelhut. Bob whispered something in Sandy's ear that made her laugh. Was the man finally making a move? I wasn't sure how the girls would feel about that.

Marva came up next to me and planted half of her raffle tickets around my neck, “You need to sell all of these before dinner.”

“Nobody wants to buy anything from me, Marva,” I said. Ellie's words earlier today still warmed me, but I wasn't delusional.

“What are you talking about, honey? Everyone wants an excuse to talk to you. Outside of last winter's star-studded wedding in Truhart, you're about the most exciting person who's come to Truhart since Soupy Sales came by on a comedy tour in the eighties!”

“Great. I'm the fool who entertained the town this summer?”

“Well, it's better than being the fool who bored the town this summer,” replied Marva.

With a push on my shoulder, she pointed me in the direction of the buffet table, where people milled around the cheese and crackers. I toyed with the idea of ditching the raffle tickets in the macaroni sculpture in the center of the table. I was still trying to figure out if the sculpture was a star or an octopus. I turned around and found myself gazing right into the gray eyes of Bootie.

“Elizabeth!”

I hadn't seen him since I'd left the bar and all its overturned tables resting in puddles of chili fries.

He fished in his pocket and handed me a cigar. “Have a cigar!”

“What? I don't smoke nowadays—” But he shoved it in my hand.

I stared down at the pink bubble-gum candy.

“It's a girl!” he said.

“Congratulations, Bootie!”

His smile was electric. “Angelina Beyoncé Hendrix Ute.”

“That's great!”

He pulled out a baby picture from his wallet and I prepared myself to gush over a miniature image of Bootie sprouting fuzzy hair and sideburns. Amazingly, the picture showed one of the most beautiful newborns I had ever seen. I clucked over the picture and said everything a new father wanted to hear.

“What are you selling?” he asked.

“Raffle tickets.”

“I'll buy them all!” He reached for his wallet, but I pulled back.

“I should really buy some for you, Bootie. I'm not sure I can ever pay for the damage to your restaurant.”

His eyes twinkled as he unfolded his leather billfold. “No need, baby. I really appreciate that. Truly do. But I'm planning on doing a little redecorating anyway.”

“Redecorating?”

“Well, yeah . . .” He handed me more than enough money to cover the tickets and grinned awkwardly. “I've decided to go in another direction at the bar. I'm making it a little more family friendly.”

“What?”

“Lori is going to put up some pretty curtains and a few other things that will give the place a little more of a homey feeling.”

“Really?”

He grinned and lifted his shoulders. “Well, I am the father of a girl now! For the last few weeks I've been looking around the bar, trying to imagine the day I get to show my little girl where her daddy works. What really stuck in my craw was the thought that she might be waitressing for me some day. No way is my daughter gonna be on display that way . . . not gonna happen, baby! So I decided to make a little change. Crap! I guess I'm just getting old.”

I was amazed and touched . . . and pleased. At least my stupid mistake resulted in some good.

When Bootie left, I looked around for J. D. There was so much to tell him about today.

The crowd thickened and I ended up taking the rest of the raffle tickets off Marva when more people wanted to buy from me. One wide-eyed old lady actually asked for my autograph.

Then I saw J. D. at the entrance to the dining room, illuminated by a sea of glittering white lights.

The room around me disappeared.

He was dazzling in a white button-down shirt open at the neck, a navy sport coat, and khaki pants. I always thought his uniform made him look sexy, but tonight he was sizzling. His clean-shaven face and the slight curl of the hair above his ears made me want to back him up against the wall here and now.

He greeted several men at the bar. Then his eyes grazed the crowd and spotted me. I performed a little bow. He nodded his head and the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn't even listening to the man talking to him. We were drawn to each other like magnets that finally faced the right way.

“Well, hello,” he drawled when we were close. He scanned me from head to foot. “I feel like we haven't quite been introduced.”

“I feel the same way,” I added. “We could have saved ourselves some time if we'd met looking like this.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn't have been as much fun.”

Before I could tell him about all the hundreds of funny things that had happened today, I heard someone at the microphone trying to get everyone's attention. I didn't think I could wait another minute, so I stood on my tiptoes to talk in J. D.'s ear. But I was shushed by Marva, who appeared behind me. Someone whistled with their fingers to quiet the noise.

As the hush descended in the room, Sheriff Howe crouched and spoke into the microphone. “I want to thank everyone for making this another fantastic Timberfest today, and to the ladies who have organized this beautiful evening.” A smattering of applause and hoots spread through the crowd. He continued: “I don't want to take too much time from the evening. I know you all want to go back to socializing and enjoying the dinner that will be served in a few minutes. But I also know how you are once you get a little food and drink in you. There's no way I can compete with ribs, corn, and Nestor's Pottawatomi pie.”

The crowd laughed and Joe O'Shea yelled out, “Make sure you get to it before Marva does, Liam!”

Marva reached out to hit him in the shoulder.

“I hear you're pretty good at finishing it off yourself, Joe,” said the sheriff.

The crowd laughed louder now.

He continued. “Well, as you all know, I've been gone this summer. It was hard to be away so long, but it was great for Anne Marie and me to spend time with our children and grandchildren. Things are taking on a new perspective the older I get. Winters are making my bones ache and I can't keep chasing down those speeders from downstate forever. So . . . I'm just warning you now that I don't know how much longer I have in this uniform.”

Low protests mixed with the clapping of several older people—his friends—who understood why the sheriff felt that way.

I saw a muscle throb in J. D.'s neck. He would have been a great sheriff. But if Sheriff Howe retired . . . there went J. D.'s strongest advocate.

“So, this summer I left you in the hands of someone who has enough energy to keep you all in check, and cares about Truhart as much as I do. He doesn't give a hoot about looking pretty or being popular, he just cares about everyone. Even those who may not always be easy to watch out for . . .” I could swear the sheriff was looking directly at me. Heat rose to my face.

“You may not realize it, but crime was down fifteen percent this summer. Reports were filed on time, and we ended up under budget for the first time in five years. And I know there may have been some concern about this summer.” Now Sheriff Howe looked Regina Bloodworth's way. “But the fact is that I owe a lot of thanks to one person for keeping things in check. We haven't given out a lumberjack award before. But the ladies in town have decided that we need to fix that.”

He pulled out a wooden statue of a lumberjack that I could swear I had seen on the shelf in Booties. “The very first lumberjack award from the Truhart Timberfest goes to John D. Hardy.”

For a brief and agonizing moment the room was silent.

Then it erupted into applause and cheers. J. D. gazed around the room, stunned by the reaction. But I went a little crazy. I threw my arms around J. D. and screamed my joy. He was stiff from shock.

“Speech.”

“Speech!”

Several voices called for J. D. to take the microphone. I let go of his upper body and gave him a push toward the front of the room. He shook his head, but was propelled by the crowd as people reached out and grabbed his hand on the way to the small stage. I could swear it was Bootie whistling and hooting the loudest in the back of the room. Even some of the men who'd been reluctant to accept J. D. at the beginning of the summer were clapping.

When he stepped up onto the platform, Sheriff Howe offered his hand, but thought better of it and hugged J. D. before handing him the microphone. For a moment J. D. merely stared down at it, trying to figure out what to say to the town he had thought hated him.

Nestor was in tears and the ladies around him had their hands on his back. Corinne placed her arm around my shoulders.

J. D. scanned the room as it grew quiet.

Finally, he leaned down to the microphone.

Taking a deep breath, he gazed out at the people of Truhart. “I didn't expect anything like this,” he said.

“That lumberjack is as hunky as you, J. D.,” someone yelled from the back of the room. I was pretty sure it was Flo. J. D.'s face turned beet red. His voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat. But everyone politely smiled and tried not to embarrass him by showing they noticed.

“Thank you, Sheriff, for all that you have done for me. I don't know what I've done to earn this.... I'm really honored.” He looked over at me. “It took a very special woman to help me understand how important it is to have people who believe in you. Thank you.”

It was brief, but J. D. was too overwhelmed to continue.

He headed back to me and people congratulated him along the way. A small crowd gathered around us. He looked down at the statue. “I thought the whole town would hate me after Booties.”

“Are you kidding?” said Sheriff Howe, coming up behind them. “Everyone practically stood in line for the last few days, bearing witness to the fact that you were only defending yourself from Dylan Schraeder.”

Sheriff Howe nodded at me and raised an eyebrow. “I didn't even need her statement.”

Bob Kettelhut piped up: “And we watched you dealing with Elizabeth this summer and realized you had a whole hell of a lot more patience than the rest of us put together.”

Joe O'Shea added, “Yeah—if you can put up with her, you can put up with anyone!”

J. D. stilled and glanced down at me, probably worried I would take it the wrong way. I put my hands to my face to push back the heat and I laughed, earning a solid kiss from J. D.