Andrews closed the door of the Fashion Emporium and hurried down the sidewalk. She’d had a busy morning making certain everything was taken care of for Bethany’s funeral this afternoon. It was the last thing she would be able to do for her childhood friend and she wanted to make sure she’d given it her best.
Now she was headed to the station to meet the morning train. She wanted to be there when Ward stepped off. This couldn’t have been an easy trip for him and he would need a friend right now.
And it seemed that was all she was destined to be to him—a friend.
“Oh!”
“Pardon me.” Hazel had been so lost in her own thoughts she’d practically run into Cassie Lynn Walker. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Are you all right?” She bent to pick up the package the very expectant mother-to-be had dropped.
Cassie gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m fine. And thank you,” she said as she accepted the package. “It was as much my fault as yours. I’m clumsier than a toddler learning to walk these days.” She rubbed her protruding stomach ruefully.
“You have good cause to be.” Hazel did her best to force down the pang of jealousy. It seemed every other woman of marriageable age in Turnabout had found a husband and started families.
Was it so wrong of her to want the same thing?
Cassie touched her arm, smiling sympathetically. “I hear the sheriff’s sister was a good friend of yours. I’m awful sorry for your loss.”
Cassie’s words pulled Hazel out of her self-pitying thoughts. Unlike Bethany, she still had the opportunity to change her circumstances. And that’s what she intended to do.
In the most decisive way she could imagine.
“I hear tell the sheriff didn’t make it in yesterday afternoon as planned. I hope nothing serious has happened on top of his loss?”
Hazel shook her head. “He’s assured me he’ll be on this morning’s train.” It wasn’t an answer, exactly, but it was the best she could do. “In fact, I’m on my way there now. If you’ll excuse me.”
As Hazel resumed her march to the train station, she wondered exactly what had delayed Ward. The telegram he’d sent had only stated that he’d been temporarily detained and would arrive this morning.
It wasn’t like the always serious-to-a-fault sheriff to get sidetracked easily, so it must have been something really important.
A few minutes later Hazel stepped onto the station platform and saw the plume of smoke in the distance that signaled the train approaching.
She knew she shouldn’t still get this little tingle of anticipation at the thought of seeing Ward. After all, she’d given up on her hopes that he would someday return her feelings. Truth to tell, she wasn’t even certain what her own feelings were anymore. Sure, she still liked and admired him, but she wasn’t certain she loved him, at least not in the romantic sense. She wasn’t even sure she knew what that kind of love was.
And right now she had other problems to deal with. Her financial situation was such that she needed to make some radical changes in her life. Saying goodbye to Turnabout and all her friends here was going to be difficult, but accepting her aunt’s invitation to move to New York and work with her seemed like the best answer to her financial woes.
And perhaps it would give her a fresh start in other areas of her life as well.
On the heels of that thought, she saw the train rounding the curve that brought it fully into view. Her lips curved in a self-mocking smile as she realized her hand had gone up to her hair to make certain none of her unruly tresses had come loose. Old habits were hard to break, it seemed.
Hazel stood well back on the platform as the train pulled in, wanting to avoid the steam and soot it trailed in with it. She eagerly scanned the few passengers who stepped from the train and smiled as soon as she saw Ward’s tall, familiar form emerge.
Then her brow went up. He wasn’t alone. He had Pugs with him, thank goodness. But there was also a small girl holding tightly to his hand. Who was this child and why was she with Ward? Did she have something to do with why he’d been delayed?
Hazel didn’t step forward immediately, trying to take in the implications of what she was seeing.
Ward scanned the platform, as if looking for someone. When his gaze finally connected with hers, the smile that lit his face warmed her in spite of her earlier resolution. Was it pleasure or relief that she saw reflected there?
Then she noticed how tired and harried the normally unflappable sheriff looked and rushed forward, all her nurturing instincts bubbling forth. “Welcome back. I see you brought some friends with you.”
Ward nodded. “I did. This is Meg.” He turned to the little girl. “Meg, this is Miss Hazel, the nice lady I told you about.”
He’d spoken of her? “Hello, Meg.”
The little girl moved closer to Ward. “Hello.” Then she held out her doll. “This is Chessie.”
Meg’s attachment to Ward and his protective attitude toward her in turn touched something inside Hazel. She’d always thought he’d make a good father someday.
Smiling at that thought, she stooped down to get a better look at the child’s doll. “Well, hello, Chessie. I’m so pleased to meet both of you.”
Hazel met Ward’s gaze, dozens of questions swirling in her mind, but none she wanted to ask in the presence of the child.
“Meg is going to be in my care for a while,” he said cryptically.
Hazel waited a moment for more information but none was forthcoming. Finally, she straightened and turned a smile on the little girl. “Well then, welcome to Turnabout, Meg. I hope you’re going to enjoy your stay here.”
Meg nodded. “Is Mr. Gleason really the sheriff?”
Hazel cut a look Ward’s way. “That he is.” She gave him a teasing smile. “And a very good one too.” She was rewarded for her praise with a faint upturning of his lips.
“Sheriff Gleason’s sister died,” Meg stated forlornly.
The words jolted Hazel’s attention back to the little girl. “Yes, I know.” She studied the child, her curiosity growing. Apparently Ward had told Meg something of Bethany. Or had she already known?
Yes, the child favored Bethany slightly, but that didn’t mean anything. If someone had tried to pass Meg off as his sister’s daughter, surely Ward knew better—
As if sensing something of her thoughts Ward raked a hand through his hair and then turned to Meg. “Half-pint, why don’t you take Pugs and sit on that bench over there. I need to speak to Miss Hazel for a few minutes.”
Half-pint. That’s what he used to call Bethany. Hazel again felt that tug of both curiosity and denial.
What was going on here?
