LITMIR.BIZ

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of minimizing her curves, such as they might be. Drawing attention to her gender had never yet proved to be an asset at work.

      Daphne seemed to be in a sunny mood, eating her breakfast while looking around as if taking the whole world in. Tucked safely in her car seat, she waved her little arms and legs freely, causing Diane just a bit of trouble as she tried to strap the girl safely into the back seat of her car. Diane didn’t mind the wiggling, however. She just wished she could share the child’s happy mood. Right then she felt as if she might be going to her execution.

      Aubrey and Candy had come to her office because they’d heard about Daphne. That probably meant everyone else with an interest had heard by now. What would she do if they refused to let her bring the child with her until she could find suitable care for her?

      Her stomach had begun to feel like lead. The oat cereal she’d eaten felt like it wanted to stage a revolution. She paused to check the diaper bag once more, making sure she had enough for the day. And if she didn’t, well, there was lunch hour and a trip to the pharmacy on Main Street or the grocery at the edge of town. She wasn’t in the wilderness, for heaven’s sake.

      Mentally bucking herself up, she drove down streets beneath big old trees that were just beginning to brighten with autumn color. She had a designated parking space behind the courthouse, and she slid into it. After she turned off the engine, she sat for several minutes, trying to center herself.

      She was startled by a gentle rapping on the window beside her. Turning her head, she saw a pleasant-looking man in a sweatshirt and jeans. She rolled her window down a crack.

      “Hey,” he said. “I’m Wyatt Carter, the judge around here. You’re the new urban planner, aren’t you? Is everything okay? You didn’t move for so long, I had to wonder.”

      Diane felt her cheeks heat a bit. “I’m fine. New-job nerves.”

      He nodded. “I get that. Come on, I’ll walk you in and we’ll stare everyone down.”

      That made her smile at last. “Do I really need protection?”

      He tilted his head as if thinking, then shook his head. “Actually, not at all. That’s what I have a gavel for.”

      Which was how she came to be walking down the corridor in the courthouse basement with the judge carrying her diaper bag while she carried Daphne in her all-purpose car seat in one hand and her briefcase in the other.

      Quite a start to the day, she thought as she entered her office. Wyatt—he’d already insisted she drop the formality—placed the diaper bag on her desk. “I’m just two floors up, and we’re having a full day in the court. If you need anything from me, one of the clerks can bring me a message. But honestly, I think everyone down here will help you without hesitation. Have a great day and remind the council members I still own the gavel.”

      Well, he’d certainly helped her get over some of her nerves, she thought. Was this town a Disney creation? Everyone she’d met so far had been amazingly nice. She placed Daphne in a corner out of the way after checking her diaper, then gave her a small, not too noisy rattle to use. Clutched in one little fist, it waved in every direction, then wound up pressed to the girl’s mouth. Everything seemed to wind up there. She made a mental note to check around her house very carefully before putting the baby down on a blanket on the floor.

      Or maybe she should get a playpen. Man, the list was adding up. Playpen, changing table, crib. Then more clothes, because her onesies would stop fitting soon.

      Seated at her desk, she pulled the files out of her briefcase, feeling only one pang of guilt that she hadn’t spent any time on them last night. Not that they needed intense attention. One was the comprehensive plan from so long ago, and she’d read that before applying. It read like comprehensive plans everywhere except for being outdated.

      Then there was a series of folders that amounted to the local wish list, she guessed. Airport runway expansion. Updating the parks. Help to attract new business. Some funding for repairing the high school, which had apparently met with... She caught her breath. A bomb? Really? She wouldn’t have expected that here. Probably some kid who’d thought he was being funny. Or brilliant.

      The one that most caught her attention was a plan to widen one of the roads up into the mountains to turn it into a scenic drive that would end at an historic mining town that, of course, needed work to make it safe. But that was the kind of thing she loved—preserving historical sites, making them into attractions that would ensure their longevity.

      Some of these projects would likely have to be handled by bond issues, but some could well qualify for grants from various sources. And that would be her job. That and updating the comprehensive plan to comply with new regulations.

      Leaning back in her chair, listening to the quiet sounds of the rattle, which would probably elicit tears by falling on the floor soon, and listening to the baby noises Daphne was making, she closed her eyes and remembered why she had taken this job in the first place.

      Conard County wasn’t all built up like the other places she’d worked, most recently Des Moines. When she’d come out for the interview and looked around the area, all she could see was possibility. Of course, she couldn’t make it all happen, and she wasn’t sure it would be good for the community if she did, but some of it could be brought to life here. The potential, the virtually clean slate...yeah, a lot could be done here, and with those mountains so nearby, that merely expanded the things they could accomplish.

      The scenic road was one great idea. She’d also read how repeated attempts to build a ski resort had fallen through, the last time because of some serious landslides.

      She didn’t understand why it couldn’t be done. Those mountains weren’t going anywhere, but they needed funding for an independent geological survey. That last failure had occurred because of record-breaking rain. Surely that could be planned around. Earthquake activity seemed to be minor. She’d suggest the survey as one of her projects.

      Oh, she’d been bubbling with ideas since her interview, but she had to be careful to avoid the “new broom” effect. There was bound to be resistance to any change around here, so she’d better find her way among the people who’d be affected. Maybe a town hall or charette, a survey of what folks besides the commissioners wanted around here. Community input was essential.

      She glanced over and saw that Daphne had fallen asleep, the rattle still clutched in tiny hands. Toys suitable for an infant, she thought, adding that to her growing mental list. She wondered what other unthought-of things lay around the corner.

      She returned to the files, trying to organize them in a useful way for the work ahead of her. Sources for grants would be her first move, and for that she needed projects that might garner private funding. Turning to the computer on her desk, she opened a new digital file and began to transfer information. Why in the world were these files still paper, anyway? Had they been around that long?

      Much as she didn’t feel like working, she actually made some headway in her organization and was starting to feel fairly good about her morning when the door opened.

      Looking up, she saw Blaine poking his head through a five-inch opening. “We’re up. The mayor, the council chairman and the chief commissioner have decided they want to meet with you now.”

      Diane’s stomach turned over, then became queasy. Anxiety because it was barely noon and the public meeting was supposed to be at six. “Now?” she said pointlessly.

      “Well, I got you ten minutes. Better make sure the tot is comfy and you have a bottle. Don’t panic, it’s not the lion’s den and I’ll be there.”

      “I’m not panicking,” she lied bravely. “What happened?”

      “People talk. And some other people want to get the jump on their, um, colleagues. In short, they want the first whack and want information before the others get it.”

      She understood that all too well. When it came to personal power, adults could act like toddlers. “This isn’t a good start,” she remarked.

      “Is

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