the smoothness of her pale complexion. Up close, one could probably see beneath it to the blue veins carrying all that Witherspoon blue blood too, but at Kitty's distance, most noticeable was its dramatic contrast to her straight, jaw-length black hair. She wore it in a trendy, jagged-bottom cut that probably cost more than the understated little black pantsuit she was wearing.
Which was likely silk, hand-tailored, and in the same dollar range as a mid-priced minivan.
With an inexplicable yet obvious wariness, Honor Witherspoon leaned toward the microphone. It shrieked, much harsher on the ears than the average mild squeal, and she shrank back.
The technicians rushed onstage again, adjusting the equipment. As Honor eyed them with a patient, almost pitying air, Kitty acknowledged that not only was the other woman beautiful, she was also small and delicate, except for the healthy set of curves under her black silk top.
Kitty hated her.
The emotion slightly lessened when Honor was gestured toward the mike again and it let out another earsplitting scream. Once more the dark-haired woman stepped back, this time dragging the technicians with her. Though they seemed doubtful at first, in a moment they nodded. One man drifted away, while the other held the mike himself, some distance from Honor's mouth.
After a brief moan of feedback, her soft, throaty voice filled the park. "I'm only sorry for two things tonight - my disastrous touch with anything electrical, and that I seemed to have brought the press along with me." She hesitated as another barrage of bulbs flashed. Then she lowered her voice in an intimate, we're-friends-already manner. "Please bear with them patiently ... or throw them in the nearest creek, whichever suits you best."
Laughter rumbled throughout the park, but then it quieted, the crowd already partly won over by the big-city beauty.
"I know it might feel like an outsider has taken something that belongs to Hot Water, but I want to assure you that I don't feel like an outsider. That I don't want to be an outsider."
Honor Witherspoon paused, and for the first time, her poise completely dropped. She took a deep breath and started again. "You may know that a few months ago I was kidnapped. Needless to say, it was an experience I don't like to dwell on. But out of that came my friendship with FBI Special Agent Dylan Matthews, and it was he who told me stories about the very unique place where he grew up." She paused again, took another deep breath. "I can't tell you how special those stories were to me after two weeks alone in the darkness. They gave me the courage to hope, to believe in goodness again. So I thank you for that, and for the future."
The people broke into spontaneous applause. Kitty stared, still dumbfounded, as Honor gave a small parting wave and turned toward the stairs. Then her face lit up and she ran across the stage to launch herself into someone's arms. A man's arms.
The arms of Kitty's husband.
Kitty didn't remember leaping off the picnic bench. She didn't remember running toward the gate leading into the cemetery. She realized she was there only when she threw it open, nearly knocking over Bram Bennett.
"Is something wrong?" he asked in his rough voice.
Kitty stared at him. "Of course." It didn't matter that Dylan had asked Kitty to return to L.A. with him. It didn't matter that she'd been tempted to say yes, even though he hadn't added a promise he'd permanently care about her, a Wilder. Neither mattered once Kitty had seen Honor Witherspoon. Not when Kitty had glimpsed the beautiful and well-bred personification of every reason that she would never, ever have the man she loved.
* * *
As Dylan combed the crowded park on Heritage Day morning, he was ready to kill someone. Preferably Kitty. This was no time for her to go MIA! She'd stood him up yesterday evening and was nowhere to be found now either. He needed to see her because ... because he wanted to, damn it.
"I really like you with that sheriff's badge," Honor Witherspoon said, grinning up at him from her place by his side. She'd attached herself to him like a limpet this morning, sure proof that Heiress Honor was nervous about her first day in her new town. "The cowboy boots are a nice touch too," she added.
Old Town was open and free to all on Heritage Day. While no actual tours were given, the reenactors still donned costumes. In fact,