A Tailor-Made Husband. Winnie Griggs
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I came to see Ward.” The mayor tugged on the cuff of his shirt. “Official town business.”
She pursed her lips. “Surely whatever you have to discuss can wait. Sheriff Gleason just returned from his sister’s deathbed. And now he has to get ready for her funeral.”
He relaxed, realizing she’d gotten her back up on his behalf. She was certainly a magnificent sight when she got riled up, all flashing eyes, ruddy cheeks and battle-ready posture. But in this instance her well-intentioned interference was unnecessary. This was his job. “I assume there was some kind of trouble while I was gone?”
The mayor turned from Hazel back to him with a relieved nod. “I’m afraid so. There’s been another incident and it’s likely the same scoundrel who hit the Lawrences’ and the Carsons’ places. Only this time they’ve moved right into the heart of town.”
Hazel spoke up again, her foot tapping impatiently. “Pardon me, gentlemen, but this seems to be a discussion that can wait until after the funeral.”
Mayor Sanders shot her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I certainly don’t expect the sheriff to do anything about this today. But I wanted him to hear about it straight away in case he runs into some talk or complaints from other townsfolk.”
“Quite right.” Ward gave Hazel a firm, not-your-business look before he turned back to the man who was, in effect, his boss. “Let’s go to my office so you can fill me in on the details.” Then he hesitated, looking over at Meg, remembering he wasn’t as unencumbered as he’d once been.
He shifted his gaze to Hazel, hoping she could read his unspoken request.
And of course she did. Taking her cue, Hazel smiled down at the child. “Meg, why don’t you come with me while Sheriff Gleason and Mayor Sanders take care of a little business?”
But Meg popped up from the bench and clutched at Ward, her eyes wide with apprehension. Poor Half-pint, being abandoned by her brother had obviously made her anxious about any hint of being cast aside again.
As usual, Hazel rose to the challenge. Without further prodding from him she stooped down to get on eye level with Half-pint. “We can take Chessie and Pugs with us too. And I’ll introduce all of you to Buttons.”
“Who’s Buttons?”
Hazel’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe Meg didn’t already know. “Why, Buttons is just the prettiest and smartest cat you’ve ever seen.”
Ward refrained from rolling his eyes at that clearly overblown description and placed a hand on the child’s head, trying to reassure her. “It’ll be okay, Half-pint, it’s just for a little while.” Wasn’t that the same promise Freddie had made to her? “I’ll come on by to get you later on my way to the funeral.”
Ward ignored the startled look on the mayor’s face—a sign of what he could expect from his fellow townsfolk over the coming days, no doubt—and turned to Hazel. “Thank you,” he said, touching her arm. “I’ll come by the dress shop as soon as I’m able.”
She nodded, her eyes widening slightly. He pulled his hand away quickly, wondering if she’d felt that same spark of awareness.
What was wrong with him?
She recovered quickly and her eyes flashed a warning. “Then we’re going to talk.”
“Of course.”
He watched as she bent to pick up Pugs. Then she took Meg’s hand with her free one and began regaling the little girl with tales of her cat’s exploits.
Once again Hazel had stepped in to help without the least hesitation. Strange how he’d gotten used to always having her to count on. And she never let him down.
Then, shaking off thoughts of the usually-flamboyant-but-always-dependable seamstress, he shifted into his businesslike frame of mind and turned back to the mayor. “Let’s go over to my office and you can give me the details.”
* * *
As Hazel led the child away from the station she silently chided herself for that unguarded reaction to Ward’s touch. Hopefully she’d recovered quickly enough so that he hadn’t noticed.
Pushing those unwanted thoughts aside, she turned her focus to the little girl at her side. It was so like Ward to take personal responsibility for a lost child’s welfare. He could have turned Meg over to the sheriff in Kittering. Or contacted a children’s asylum. Or done any one of a dozen other things that would have shifted responsibility for the little girl to someone else. And no one would have thought any less of him if he had, especially given the mournful errand he was on.
But that wasn’t his way.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself falling for the overly serious, secretly tender-hearted sheriff all over again. And she had to guard her heart against that, at all costs. She’d made her decision to leave and she couldn’t let sentiment hold her back now. It had become painfully obvious to her that there was no future for her in Turnabout, either financially or emotionally.
Because, by her reckoning, if nothing changed to bring customers into her shop, she’d be out of funds in about three months.
This was for the best, no matter how difficult taking that first step would be.
“Is it very far?”
Meg’s question drew Hazel’s thoughts back to the present. She’d planned an impromptu stop as a treat for the little girl, but she realized Meg looked sleepy. “Actually, I thought we’d make one stop along the way, but if you’d rather go straight to my place we can do it another time.”
“Where do you want to stop?”
“There’s a little shop called The Blue Bottle, where they sell the most delicious sweets. They also have a selection of wonderful wooden toys. Would you like to visit there?”
Meg’s face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. And Chessie would like it too.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. And since you’re probably tired from that long trip, I’ll let you pick out whichever sweet you like.”
“Can we get one for Sheriff Gleason too? He’s tired from the trip too.”
Hazel looked at the child’s earnest expression and her heart melted a little more. Meg really had developed an attachment to Ward. “I think that’s a splendid idea.”
How could this sweet child’s brother have just abandoned her? There had to be more to this story than what Ward had told her in those few seconds. Surely it was some dreadful mistake and Meg’s brother would come looking for her soon. To believe otherwise was just too sad to contemplate. And if she knew Ward, he wouldn’t rest until Meg’s situation was put to rights.
But if the brief time she’d spent with Meg was any indication, if and when the brother returned, it might be difficult for the sheriff and the little girl to part ways.
* * *
Ward sat at his desk in the sheriff’s office, waving Mayor Sanders to the chair in front of him. He had hoped the string of incidents—part vandalism, part schoolboy pranks—plaguing the community had run their course and things would have settled down by the time he returned, but from the sounds of things, that wasn’t the case.
Before Ward had gotten word of his sister’s passing, there had been several incidents that seemed the work of overzealous mischief-makers. The hooligans had visited Enoch Lawrence’s place three times, trampling the garden, splattering paint, stealing laundry from the clothesline. Then they’d moved to a neighboring farm, opening the paddock gate and letting Saul Carson’s horses out, causing the rancher to lose a full day rounding them back up.
The one rather vague eyewitness account he’d gotten had come from Enoch’s daughter Hortense, who said she thought she caught a glimpse of two youths racing away after one of