ago exuding an air of long suffering that Hannah knew masked a simmering frustration with losing the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. Though the winner had been crowned at the Fourth of July picnic, launching the town’s centennial festivities two months ago now, Lilibeth had complained loudly since then to anyone who would listen that she had been robbed. She was determined to get to the bottom of whatever conspiracy she seemed to think had been hatched.
“There’s nothing I can do,” Hannah said. “The contest is over and the winner has been determined.”
As she reasoned with Lilibeth, the heavy doors of the town hall office opened and a tall figure stepped inside the foyer. Though the entrance of the converted bank building boasted ten-foot-high ceilings, Brody Harcourt easily dominated the space and Hannah’s attention.
He stood in the doorway now, his eyes skimming the interior as he swept his cowboy hat off his dark hair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up over muscular forearms and his ramrod-straight stance bespoke his firefighter training, but the sprinkle of straw on his brown cowboy hat probably came from working on the ranch he and his father owned. He glanced at the empty chairs lining one wall, interspersed with potted plants, but stayed standing.
“But you take minutes at the town council meetings, dontcha? Couldn’t you find out stuff for me?” Lilibeth’s question was underlined with a nervous tap, tap of her fingernail. As Hannah’s attention was drawn back to the young girl, she fought a yawn.
Chrissy, her thirteen-month-old daughter, was cutting teeth and she’d been up most of the night crying and feverish. Thankfully, her twin brother, Corey, had slept through all of the fussing. Unfortunately, Hannah had not. She’d spent most of the evening rocking Chrissy and walking the floor with her hoping her cries wouldn’t wake Miss Abigail Rose, who lived in the apartment beside Hannah’s above the hardware store. Miss Rose had been reluctant to continue subletting the adjoining apartment to Hannah precisely because of the twins. She had given in when Hannah’s mother had shamed Miss Rose by saying this was no way to treat the widow of a soldier who’d died for his country. Hannah knew she was only staying at the apartment on sufferance, widow or not, and as a result was hyperconscious of any noise the babies made.
“I’m taking care of organizing the fair this year and the picnic basket auction,” Hannah said. “I can help you if you want to donate a basket or if you want a booth at the fair. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest and neither can Mayor Shaw.”
Lilibeth pursed her lips, winding a strand of hair around her finger as she contemplated this information. “So you can’t get hold of the minutes of the meetings or stuff and let me see them? I need to find out if this was a setup or not.”
Why was she so intent on digging so deeply into this?
A movement from Brody distracted Hannah from Lilibeth’s questions. He was glancing at his watch, as if checking the time. Then he looked over at her, angled her a quick smile and raised his eyebrows toward Lilibeth, as if he was sympathizing with Hannah having to deal with the young lady’s self-indulgent antics.
“The contest was run separately from town business.” Hannah kept her smile intact as she turned her attention back to Lilibeth. “And even if the council was involved, I wouldn’t be at liberty to give you the minutes of the meetings.”
As Hannah spoke, Robin Frazier entered the foyer from the office she and Olivia Franklin worked in. She clutched a sheaf of papers and had a pencil behind one ear holding her blond hair back from her face. Probably seeking more information for the genealogy study she had come to Jasper Gulch for. She and Olivia had been working together on the history of the town as part of her studies.
“Are you going to donate a basket for the auction?” Hannah asked Lilibeth, trying to distract the girl and hurry her on.
Lilibeth gave Hannah a confused look as if not certain of this sudden switch in the conversation. “I’m not sure I could organize a basket. What would I put in it?”
“Food. Snacks. Treats. Sandwiches. Be creative,” Hannah said, handing her a paper. “Here’s a submission form to fill out. We’re doing something different this year. Instead of just food baskets, we are asking for some people to consider making a themed basket instead.”
“Themed basket?”
“Yes. You could make a basket of books. A basket of bath products. Snack foods. Baby stuff. The form will give you some ideas. You can choose which one you prefer.” While the young woman puzzled over the paper, Hannah turned her attention to Brody.
“Can I help you, Mr. Harcourt?”
Brody Harcourt gave her an affronted look as he came to the counter. “Whoa, what’s with the mister? I’m twenty-nine. That’s only four years older than you.”
In a town the size of Jasper Gulch, anyone who was four years older than you in high school seemed to stay in that exalted position until you got to know them. And Brody moved in different circles than she did, so she never got to know him well.
“Sorry. Just trying to be respectful of the age difference.” Hannah didn’t know where that little quip came from, but the twinkle in Brody’s eye and the way his mouth curved upward in a half smile created a curious uptick in her heartbeat. He really was quite attractive.
And still single, which surprised her. She thought someone like Brody would have been snatched up years ago.
“Glad to know I get some respect around here,” he said, setting his hat on the wide counter between them.
Lilibeth looked up from the form she still held. The frown puckering her forehead shifted in an instant, and her smile made a blazing reappearance.
“Hey, there, Brody,” she almost purred. “How are things at the Harcourt ranch?”
“Fall’s coming, so it’s busy,” Brody said, giving the young girl a grin.
“You going to enter in the demolition derby going on in Bozeman this year?”
“Don’t have a vehicle to enter and I don’t have time.”
“You did real well the last time you entered,” Lilibeth continued, laying her hand lightly on his arm in a distinctly flirtatious gesture. “Couldn’t believe how you smashed up the competition. Fearless. Living up to your nickname, Book-it Brody.”
Hannah knew Brody’s high school nickname had less to do with academics than it had with his penchant for driving fast trucks and outrunning the sheriff of the day. Though that was in his past, he still held a reputation for being a risk-taker, not the kind of person Hannah could allow herself, a widowed mother of two, to be attracted to. The admiration in Lilibeth’s voice at Brody’s apparent recklessness only underlined Hannah’s previous assessment of Brody Harcourt.
In spite of that, when he turned back to her and his smile deepened, she was unable to look away from his dark gaze.
Again Hannah pushed down her foolish reaction, not sure what was wrong with her these days. It seemed that she’d had romance on her mind lately. She wanted to blame it on her friend Julie’s recent engagement or the plans for the Old Tyme wedding coming up next month, but the truth was, she’d been feeling lonely the past few months. The first year after David’s death, she had been on autopilot, trying to absorb the reality that her husband of only a couple of months was killed so soon after shipping out to Afghanistan. She had often felt that their brief marriage was an illusion, even though the twins that came of that marriage certainly weren’t.
“I understand you’re the person I need to talk to about reserving a booth at the fair?” Brody said, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning closer. “It’s for the firefighters.”
“I’ll get the form you need,” she said as the door of the hall opened again and Rusty Zidek came in. He pulled off his worn, brown, cowboy hat, smoothed down his gray hair and brushed his impressive cookie duster of a mustache. In spite of being ninety-six years old, Rusty managed to keep his finger on the pulse of what happened in Jasper