LITMIR.BIZ

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Ruth’s mouth pursed as if she’d smelled something particularly foul. Mary Ella gave her a long, speculative look. Evie, drat her, looked as if she were barely hiding a smile.

      “Riley?” Mary Ella said.

      Claire cleared her throat. “Funny story. I saw a shape out there and thought it might be an intruder. I flicked my porch lights a couple of times to maybe scare him off or something. Riley happened to be passing by just then and stopped to make sure everything was okay.”

      “Nice of him,” Evie murmured.

      “Right. Um, well, he checked around the house and the yard for me and couldn’t find any clues.”

      She decided not to mention that he’d fallen asleep or that when he’d awakened he said wholly inappropriate things to her she couldn’t stop thinking about. Or the subsequent times he’d dropped by and kissed her until she couldn’t remember her name.

      Changing the subject right now would probably be a good idea. “You know, whoever it is,” she said quickly, “there’s something so magical about the whole thing, don’t you think? The mystery of an unexpected kindness. I’m glad I didn’t see who it was. I’m not really sure I want to know. Don’t you think something will be lost if we ever figure it out?”

      Mary Ella nodded. “You know, I think you’re right.”

      “You’re both crazy. I want to know who it is,” Ruth said.

      “But this way, we all think the best of each other,” Claire said. “We wonder if it could be our neighbor. We look at people in the street and wonder, is it him or her? It could be anyone. Or everyone.”

      “What are you talking about?” Ruth gave a baffled frown.

      Mary Ella smiled. “She just means all the speculation is part of the good the Angel is doing in town. Maybe we all think a little more kindly toward each other and have become a little more aware of each other’s needs. The Angel has lifted all of us, whether we’ve been direct recipients or not.”

      Claire stared at the other women as random ideas that had been floating through her mind suddenly coalesced in one grand vision. “That is exactly what Hope’s Crossing needs!”

      “What? A visit from the Angel?” Ruth asked.

      “No. We all need to be angels of Hope!”

      The three women stared at her. Ruth still looked confused, but Evie looked intrigued and Mary Ella’s features lit up with excitement.

      “That is sheer brilliance, Claire,” she exclaimed.

      “What are you thinking? A ‘random acts of kindness’ sort of thing?” Evie asked.

      Ideas raced through her head, faster than she could sort them out. “No. No, but I think that could definitely be a component. We need to do something to bring this town together. Everyone in Hope’s Crossing has been affected by the accident in some way or another. Don’t you feel like something has been shattered?”

      “Other than your arm and your leg?” Ruth said caustically, gesturing to her respective casts.

      “Besides a few bones. We’ve all suffered a great loss.”

      “We should do whatever we can to heal it,” Evie said quietly and Claire smiled at her, grateful beyond words for whatever twist of fate had brought her friend here to the mountains of Colorado.

      “What about a day of service? Neighbors helping neighbors,” Mary Ella suggested. For the first time since she came in, her lovely green eyes looked clear and unclouded by sorrow.

      “Yes. Yes!” Claire thought of the possibilities. Fences that needed to be painted, windows to be washed, blankets to be knitted. “We could involve every one. Children, families, youth groups.”

      “We should have something special planned for the teenagers. They’ve lost so much,” Evie said.

      Claire thought of Taryn, a cheerleader and popular girl at Hope’s Crossing High School, lying in a hospital bed in Denver, of Charlie Beaumont, facing serious charges in the accident, of the other teens involved.

      And, of course, of Layla.

      She leaned forward suddenly, an abrupt movement that sent a pain rippling up her leg that she ignored. “What if we end the day with a dinner dance and benefit auction. The proceeds can go to a charity that benefits the entire community. Maybe something with particular impact on the young people.”

      “A scholarship in Layla’s name,” Ruth said abruptly.

      “Oh.” Mary Ella’s features softened.

      Claire beamed at her mother. “Oh, perfect, Mom. Just perfect.”

      “Maura would be touched, don’t you think?” Evie asked.

      “How soon could we throw it together?” Claire asked. “Would a month give us enough time?”

      “Layla would have turned sixteen on June forth,” Mary Ella offered.

      Claire calculated. Three and a half weeks. Could they make it happen in that short amount of time? “A little less than a month, then.”

      “It’s too much work,” Ruth said.

      “No, we can do this. I can’t imagine a better day for it.”

      She pulled the rolling table with her laptop toward her, excitement flooding through her. This is what the town needed, something to hold on to. The bright beam of hope piercing the dark clouds that had lingered since the tragedy.

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      EVENINGS LIKE THIS SEEMED surreal to him. A little spooky even.

      Riley drove toward his rented house past the close-set Victorian houses of Old Hope, down streets where he saw neighbors out front talking to neighbors, lawns being mowed, kids riding skateboards on homemade ramps in their driveways.

      Through the open window of his patrol vehicle, he could smell fresh-cut grass mingled with the sharp sweetness of blooming sagebrush and the delectable aroma of steaks on the grill somewhere close.

      It was about as far from the gritty, dark world of an undercover narcotics cop in the inner city of Oakland as anything he could imagine without leaving the planet.

      With all the changes the town had seen in the twenty years since he’d been a kid, the particular sweetness of a warm spring evening seemed timeless.

      Oh, he wasn’t naive enough to think all was Mayberry-perfect in Hope’s Crossing. After a month as police chief, he knew the usual elements of human ugliness simmered under the surface. Domestic violence, assault, embezzlement. Even illegal substances. On his desk right now were reports about ongoing investigations featuring all of the above.

      He supposed the difference was that in Hope’s Crossing, those things were the exception, not the norm.

      It was a nice town. The influx of tourists made life a little more interesting and had certainly changed the dynamics, but Hope’s Crossing was still a good place to live.

      For most people anyway. The jury was still out for him. Maybe he wouldn’t even have a job in a month’s time when his sixty-day probationary period expired. J. D. Nyman was certainly doing his best to stir up trouble and raise doubt in people’s mind as to his competence.

      As he turned onto Blackberry Lane, he lifted a hand to wave at Mrs. Redmond on the corner, pruning back a leggy forsythia of bright blooming yellow. She gave him a sour look and deliberately turned her back.

      Lisa’s grandmother was one of those old-timers who had genuine reason not to want him there, he admitted, reasons not based on prejudice or malice. He had genuinely wronged her family in his wild youth, something he couldn’t repair no

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