“Good afternoon, Remington clan,” Ernest announced cheerfully and paid special attention to Catherine, who didn’t bother looking at him. Although obviously captivated by her beauty, he didn’t seem fazed by her disinterest.
“Hey, Ernest,” Brandon replied, being the only one to even acknowledge him.
“I heard a rumor that you might be running for mayor,” Ernest announced with a smile that almost mocked him. His directness was a form of control. He liked catching people off guard, believing they would show their true feelings.
Brandon faked a look of surprise. “Oh?” he said with a laugh. “That’s news to me.”
Casey’s father wasn’t easily played. He knew how to handle men like Ernest. He’d spent enough time in the military to learn how to deal with all types of attitudes. Ernest was no different from higher-ranking officers who enjoyed pushing around enlisted men. He enjoyed the power.
“I sort of figured,” Ernest remarked and laughed. “You’d find that job tedious and boring.”
“I don’t know,” Brandon teased while casually reclining in his seat. “Pie judging sounds like one hell of a perk.”
Casey’s father was just playing with Ernest now, and, sadly, he had no idea. Ernest may have been wealthy, but he wasn’t very smart.
“Probably the only perk as mayor in this hick town,” Ernest announced with a chuckle. He appeared pleased with Brandon’s response and was ready to move on to things of more importance. “You guys have a nice day.” Ernest continued toward the cashier in the main dining area with his check from lunch.
Catherine glared at Brandon with her loathe for Ernest evident in her eyes. “That man makes my blood run cold.” Her mother’s claws were finally coming out.
Just once, Casey wanted to see her mother verbally hand Ernest his head. She could do it too. She wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she’d have people believe.
“He thinks he owns the town because he owns the mayor and the local law,” Casey said with a sneer while adding her two cents. She couldn’t let her mother have all the fun.
Brandon appeared uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “Let’s be civil. There are big changes coming,” he announced. Her father was oddly non-confrontational for a former military man. “Sheriff Wiley’s about to retire and our young deputies have more enthusiasm for upholding the law.”
“Deputy Tucker, the town stud, is next in line for sheriff,” Casey mocked. “He’s dating the mayor’s daughter. That means he’s practically bought and paid for.”
“I hope Deputy Holt becomes sheriff,” her mother announced, catching Casey’s attention.
“Tucker and Mitchell have more seniority than Vaughn Holt,” Brandon informed his wife. “Sheriff Wiley isn’t going to pass the torch to him.”
“And I certainly don’t want him as sheriff,” Casey remarked. “He has it out for me.”
“He doesn’t have it out for you,” Catherine scoffed. “You just challenge his authority.”
“Yeah, because he has it out for me--”
Catherine rolled her eyes. There was no winning with Casey. She was almost as hardheaded as her father was.
“You certainly had no problems with him when he was first hired a few years back,” her mother reminded.
“Probably because I was fifteen, and he looked good in his uniform,” Casey replied dryly.
“That’s an understatement,” Catherine remarked and grinned teasingly. “I seem to remember you having the worst crush on him.”
“She did?” Brandon suddenly asked. “Where was I?”
“Tinkering on that piece of junk in the garage,” she casually informed him.
“Hey, that piece of junk is a 1969 Chevy Camaro Z/28 classic muscle car, I’ll have you know.”
His words went right over them. Catherine rolled her eyes and looked back at Casey, who shared the same glare as her father.
“I hope you haven’t been spreading those rumors around about that non-existent crush I didn’t have on Deputy Holt,” Casey scolded with a look of mayhem in her eyes.
“Of course not,” her mother retorted. “But maybe if you still felt that way about him, you two would get along better.” Catherine teased Casey with a lustful grin.
Casey glared at her mother with a look of horror. She couldn’t believe her mother was suggesting such a thing. “Ewe, you want me to hook-up with Deputy Holt? That’s nasty,” she remarked. “He’s a surly bastard.”
“Casey,” her mother gasped then glared at Brandon. “This is what happens when you expose her to your military friends.”
Her father appeared humored and unruffled by the comment. “You should hear yourself sometimes. Get a few drinks into you--”
“We weren’t discussing me,” Catherine scoffed and shut down the entire conversation.
Brandon laughed softly. Casey just rolled her eyes. She’d be more concerned about her parents’ bouts of banter if they didn’t cuddle and act like teenagers on the couch in the evening. The way they went at it was almost embarrassing. They were an old married couple. It wasn’t right. Dina approached their table and glanced at Casey with a sympathetic look on her face.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Casey,” Dina announced timidly, “but Deputy Holt is issuing you a parking ticket.”
Casey quickly turned to look out the window, appeared shocked, and forced her mother out of the booth so she could get up. “He is unbelievable!”
“Be nice, Casey!” her father scolded even though he didn’t bother to stand and stop her.
“Oh, I will,” she announced while turning toward her father. “I’ll smile while I give him the verbal lashing of his life.” Casey hurried away from the table.
Catherine eyed Brandon while sitting back in her seat. “Yep, she’s your daughter.”
“Are you kidding? That girl has Catherine written all over her,” Brandon replied.
“Oh, please,” Catherine snapped. “I never acted that way.”
Brandon stared at her with a surprised look as his mouth hung open. “Have you met you?”
Catherine glared sharply at him. He smiled and chuckled at her look. She hid her smile and looked away. Casey hurried from the diner and crossed the street toward the parking spot where her gray horse was tied. A ruggedly handsome, dark-haired deputy in his late twenties, Deputy Vaughn Holt, stood next to the parking meter with Casey’s horse tied to it and wrote on his pad. Casey approached him and her horse, stood near the horse’s head, and glared at Vaughn. He didn’t bother acknowledging her.
“Deputy--”
He briefly eyed her with little emotion and continued to write the ticket. “Casey--”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she calmly asked despite her obvious raging temper.
Vaughn casually pointed at the invalid meter with his pen and gave her an innocent look with those dark eyes of his. “Issuing you a parking ticket.”
“To a horse?”
He returned his attention to his ticket pad and showed little reaction. “Nope, to the owner of the horse.”
As she stared at his handsome profile, she wondered what she ever found appealing about him. Vaughn ripped off the ticket, folded it, and casually stuck it between the horse’s bridle and its ear. Casey pulled the ticket out and allowed her hostility to boil over.
“You can’t ticket a horse for a parking violation,” she suddenly growled.
“I believe I just did.”
Casey waved the ticket with annoyance while glaring at him. “This is harassment.”
“No, that is a ticket.” Vaughn indicated the meter with a cleverly raised brow. “And that is an expired meter.”
Casey indicated Vaughn while sneering. “And that is an arrogant asshole.”
He didn’t appear the least bit affected by her insult and almost welcomed the challenge. “You may be the town darling, but that won’t get anywhere with me.”
Casey was stunned and moderately offended by his comment as she stared at h
im. “Town darling? Since when?”
The sheriff’s blazer pulled up to the curb near them. A plump, older man in a policeman’s uniform, Sheriff Wiley, got out of the car and approached them. Wiley was a small-town sheriff stereotype. He’d obviously had too many doughnuts, indicated by the tautness of his shirt buttons over his mid-section, and spent too much time sleeping in his cruiser over the years. The sheriff looked at both and appeared curious.
“What’s going on here?” Sheriff Wiley asked.
“Your deputy gave me a parking ticket for my horse.”
Wiley looked at Vaughn and appeared almost stunned. “Seriously, Vaughn?”
The deputy immediately became defensive. “The meter is expired, there’s horse excrement all over, and she know she’s not supposed to ride her horse in town,” Vaughn reminded him.
The sheriff shook his head with shame. “I know you’re fairly new here, Deputy, but she’s been riding her horses into town since she was in kindergarten.” Wiley took the ticket from Casey, tore it, and placed it in Vaughn’s hand. “I’m sure you have more important things to do than write parking tickets to the pretty girls of Darwood Falls.”
Vaughn stared at him and appeared stunned. Wiley turned toward Casey and offered a pleasant smile while placing his hand on her shoulder. He’d always been overly friendly toward her growing up, and his friendliness had only increased as she got older. She was never sure what to make of him.
“Don’t let Deputy Holt intimidate you, Casey,” Wiley announced. “New deputies are always a little John Wayne until they’re properly broken in. But don’t you worry; I’m looking out for you.”
Casey stared at him with an odd look. He smiled warmly at her and returned to his blazer. She stared after him as he drove away, appearing dumbfounded. She then turned to Vaughn, who shut his ticket book with disgust and possible embarrassment.
“What just happened?” she asked more to herself.
“What do you think?” Vaughn scoffed while avoiding looking and her then walked away.
Could it be true? Was she the town darling?
Chapter Three
The sheriff’s blazer pulled up to the police station less than two blocks from the diner. Sheriff Wiley got out of his blazer with his usual lunch-to-go from the diner while attempting to juggle his take-out coffee and the newspaper. Abby approached him and nearly cut off his path to the police station. He attempted to keep from losing his lunch or coffee from his sudden stop. Despite the scowl on Abby’s face, Wiley attempted to be polite.
“Good afternoon, Abby,” he announced cheerfully. “If you’re here about added security for the fair, everything is under--”
“No, that’s no why I’m here,” she remarked with the annoyance evident in her voice. “I saw Deputy Holt giving Casey Remington a ticket half an hour ago.”
“Yeah, it was just a misunderstanding,” Wiley announced. “Deputy Holt is still following the police handbook like it’s gospel. I took care of it.”
“So I saw,” she huffed. “That’s why I wanted to speak to you.”
Wiley appeared puzzled.
“That girl has been granted special privileges since the day she was born,” Abby said matter-of-fact. “Deputy Holt is the first one with enough courage to stand up to her and that whole family, for that matter.”
Sheriff Wiley stared at Abby with a look of surprise. “I don’t think Casey or her family has received any special privileges from anyone in the police department. She’s a good kid.”
“She’s disrespectful toward me,” Abby launched back while glaring at him through narrow, hateful eyes.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Abby, but I don’t have jurisdiction over interactions between citizens.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer to have this conversation with my husband,” Abby scoffed while folding her arms across her chest and gave him a demanding look.
Wiley suddenly frowned while staring at the smug look on her face. “Just exactly what is it you expect me to do?”
Abby smiled with all the sweetness of a mafia kingpin. “That’s more like it,” she replied. “I expect you to use a firm hand while dealing with that manipulative little twit, Casey. Put an end to her riding that horse through town.” She appeared pleased with herself. “Yes, that should do for starters. And no more special treatment toward her. If she breaks the law, I want you to come down on her hard.”
Sheriff Wiley frowned and nodded. “Good day, Mrs. Ridgeway.”
Wiley was usually informal, except when someone pulled rank on him, and Abby was pulling rank. He continued past her and into the police station. Abby stroked her fur shawl, grinned proudly, and turned toward Town Square.
†
Casey leaned against the back wall of the diner’s main building with Dina, who sat on an old crate and massaged her feet. Casey was distracted by what happened with Sheriff Wiley earlier. It still bothered her, and she wasn’t sure why.
“Why couldn’t I be a secretary instead of a waitress?” Dina groaned softly.
“Because the thought of being a secretary makes you violently ill,” Casey replied.
She eyed Casey sharply. “It’s not the idea of being a secretary that makes me ill; just the thought of certain secretaries.” Dina rested her head against the wall and sighed. “I don’t want to be a waitress all my life.”
“I told you before,” Casey announced. “You can have my job at the antique store. I hate antiques. I hate the way they smell; I hate the dust they attract.” She grimaced. “God, I hate dusting. You should let me talk to my parents.”
“You’re not going to get out of it, Casey,” Dina informed her. “Your parents want you and Grey to take over one day. I’m not part of that equation.”
“You’re practically their daughter,” Casey insisted matter-of-fact. “I’ll ask them tonight.”
“No, don’t,” Dina protested and slipped back into her shoes. “I sponge off you and your family enough.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
There was a long silence. Casey once again sank into thought about the earlier Deputy Holt and Sheriff Wiley incident. Dina studied Casey and appeared curious.
“What’s really bothering you?” Dina finally asked. “You hate this alley.”
“That’s because it smells.”
“That’s probably my feet,” Dina teased and stood. She stared at Casey a long moment and appeared sympathetic. “I know something’s bothering you. Was it Deputy Holt?”
Casey shrugged but didn’t look at her. “Something he said.”
Dina appeared surprised with her eyes wide and something resembling a grin on her face. “Did he hit on you?” The thought obviously pleased her.
“What? No!”
Dina groaned and rolled her eyes. “I swear he’s gay.”
“You need a boyfriend bad,” Casey scoffed. Her look turned serious and she tensed. “He called me the town darling.”
She stared at Casey with an odd look on her face and absolutely no understanding. “Okay--?”
“That’s derogatory, Dina,” she announced.
“I wish men would offend me like that,” Dina replied dryly.
“He thinks I get special treatment,” she insisted. “He practically called me Melanie.”
“Okay, that would be an insult,” Dina remarked. “I don’t get why you’re so bothered over one little comment. You never cared about anything he said before.”
“Yes, but then Sheriff Wiley came along and ripped up the ticket,” Casey informed her. “He proved Deputy Holt right. Is that how people see me? Am I the cute and fuzzy bunny that can do no wrong?”
“The only time you’re cute and fuzzy is when you’ve had too much to drink,” Dina teased with a grin. “You’re making something out of nothing. Everyone knows Sheriff Wiley has an old man crush on you.”
Casey groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be ill.”
“You do realize that you don’t have to picture men naked wh
en I tell you they have a crush on you,” Dina remarked.
“Yet I always do.”
“Seriously, you’re the one who needs a boyfriend.”
†
Ernest Harford’s home was located on the further edge of town and set back on a hill with a long driveway leading up to it. Considering the town’s moderate means and casual appearance, the Harford Estate set itself apart with its glitz and glamour. The only other home in town that remotely compared to the elegant estate was the mayor’s home only a few blocks away. Despite Ernest’s perceived wealth, his was new money. He lacked the style and grace his sister, Abby, somehow managed. Ernest, along with his sister, came into their wealth nearly twenty years ago when a distant relative died and left them several hundred acres of worthless land. The worthless land turned into a gold mine, when they literally discovered gold beneath the property. They sold the land for millions and overnight became the wealthiest families in Darwood Falls. Shortly thereafter, Abby’s husband was elected mayor, and Ernest helped run the town from behind the scenes.
Despite the beauty and grandeur of the mansion and estate from the outside, the interior left something to be desired. The elegance of the grand hallway had faded from years of neglect. Personal belongings were carelessly lying about, and it was easy to assume it had been a long time since the place had been cleaned. Ernest’s wife had died nearly ten years earlier and the condition of the home showed it. The doorbell rang. Ernest hurried through the hall for the foyer. He opened the door to reveal Mayor Lance. Neither man appeared very enthusiastic in the company of the other.
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