“I just wish more journalists—” she shook her head “—no, more people, would stop to consider that there’s a lot more to truth than just the facts.”
He leaned forward again. “More to truth...” He looked like he wanted to understand but had no idea what she meant.
Andi wished she’d decided to have a microwave dinner. “Truth is...” She sat back. “In Mandarin, you’d say shí huà. The first character means real or solid and the second is more like talk or conversation or words. Mandarin’s an analytical language so you have to study the context, the order of the words, to understand the meaning.”
“So, you speak Mandarin.” He looked as if he didn’t really know what to do with that.
Andi got the same reaction from everyone in town anytime it came up. “I worked for the FBI translating, monitoring persons of interest.”
“In Chinese?”
“And Persian, although I read that better than I speak or hear it.” She felt like such an idiot for bringing it up. Possibly because he was looking at her as though she had two heads. “My point is this...in linguistics, you get a real good understanding of what words can do and what they can’t do. No matter that we’re both speaking English, truth means different things to you than it does to me. Because of context.”
Mark studied the ceiling while he thought about her answer. Finally he nodded. “I’ve got it...but to me, that’s semantics.”
Andi laughed. “Actually, that’s called pragmatics and it’s a case of six of one and a half a dozen of the other.”
Mark wrinkled his brow. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
“It’s close. You think facts are truth.”
He shook his head. “Aren’t they?”
“Not always, no. Facts are black-and-white. Truth...it has more depth.”
“Are you actually speaking Mandarin now? Because I’m afraid the conversation has gotten away from me. And that never happens. I’m a writer. I live on words, you know?”
“It’s like...the facts might be that someone broke into the Country Kitchen. You can put in the time and the amount that was stolen. You might even be able to put in the name of the thief and a confession, but that’s not the truth of the story. Or not all of it anyway. You’d be missing the context. I want to know the why. And I can’t help but look for it. That makes me good at my job. I don’t think most reporters spend a lot of time thinking about that context.” Andi shook her head. “Just let me eat my salad in peace, please.”
He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’m not sure I agree, Sheriff, but I think I understand.” He shook his head. “What I don’t get is why in the world you’re still here. If you win this election, you’ve got two more years of the town’s scrutiny to look forward to. Why not head out for greener, more crime-ridden pastures? FBI experience would probably open most any door you wanted around here, wouldn’t it?”
Andi bit her lip as she tried to figure out a way to shunt him out of the Smokehouse. She’d get up herself but not without her cheesecake. “I can’t leave Tall Pines, not yet. My grandmother’s still...she needs me.” Two years ago, when she’d heard about her grandmother’s fall, Andi was frantic to get home. Her career hadn’t meant much then. Gram wouldn’t move to Atlanta, so Andi had to make her way in Tall Pines. Unfortunately, that meant old history, elections and politics.
Mark wadded up his napkin as Sarah returned to take his empty plate. He smiled up at her, then smiled at Andi. “You’re ready for your dessert now.”
Andi had cleared a bald spot in the middle of the forest of her salad. He was right. She was ready for her reward.
Before Andi could give Sarah her usual order, he said, “She’ll have her usual and I’ll have what she’s having.” Sarah smiled and marched back to the kitchen. Mark and Andi both watched her go, then Mark turned back to look at Andi. “I do appreciate your jealousy but I’m not sure you know what you’re talking about. She seems fine to me.”
Andi pointed to the table with a single twentysomething man near the window. “I think she’s got someone else to attract at this point.”
He heaved a troubled sigh. “Well, all right. At least I’ve still got you.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, but he didn’t say another thing about jealousy. “I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about your FBI experience. The first thing some people did when I moved to town is trot over to tell me all about Tall Pines’s most famous citizen.”
Andi was ready to blast out a defense. Her father had quit his job at the radio station, divorced her mother and left town to pursue his dream. He’d landed in Nashville where he hosted a popular country music talk show, and every Christmas he sent her a card with a check. Until she was eighteen, she’d lived with the morbid curiosity and sometimes pity of the people in town who knew he hardly called and never visited his daughter. She didn’t want to talk about her father, either his successes or his monumental failure.
Sometimes she had to face the bitter truth that she could place a big part of her drive to be the best and build a successful law-enforcement career at her father’s feet. She was determined to prove herself better than him, better than anyone who’d pursue their own selfish goals like that, through serving the public and excelling at all she did. But now was not the time to get into that.
Mark held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “But I don’t want to talk about that. It’s nice to know more about you. Why don’t you ask me whatever burning questions you have? You might start to see me for the fine, upstanding citizen I really am. Then maybe we could work together.”
“That’s one idea.” Sarah placed a towering slice of cheesecake complete with strawberry drizzle on the table. After she’d left both plates, Andi added, “Or you could sit there and be quiet so I can enjoy this piece of cheesecake.”
“I don’t get you, Sheriff. People generally like me. Everybody except you. And Jackie, but him I can live with.” Andi didn’t say anything, because that was exactly the problem: people always liked him. He could get away with murder because he was charming. Her father had been the same way. Everything was fun and games until he lost interest, found a better option and moved along, leaving other people to pick up the pieces. And she’d tried to do the very best job she could, but it wasn’t enough here.
He tapped his cheesecake with a fork and shook his head sadly. “You seriously do not get how this date thing goes, do you? We’re supposed to trade our favorite colors, movies, songs and end with a rousing display of our five-year plans.”
Andi tilted her head to the side. “I’m not sure I’m the one with the problem in understanding, Mr. Taylor. I’m pretty sure you could ask ten people and they’d all say a date should start with an invitation. And I’m also pretty sure we can both agree there was absolutely no invitation involved in this little dinner.”
Andi picked up her fork and took her first bite of the sinful satisfaction that was cheesecake at the Smokehouse.
“Ooh, that was a burn. I think you got me.” He watched Andi take her second bite. “If I had asked, what would you have said?”
“No. Of course the answer would be no.” Andi rolled her eyes. “You just want to talk about Jackie’s case.”
“What if I promised the case wouldn’t even come up?” Mark tilted his head to the side.
“My answer would be a louder no.” Andi sighed. “And I don’t believe you. You’ve already proven the story is king.”
He shrugged. “I’m a really good investigative reporter, and my stories are fair. You can trust me. My mother will vouch for me, of course, as a fine young man. What’s the harm in a dinner or two, just to ease relations between the paper and the sheriff’s office?”
Andi shook her