“Earth to Laura,” said the kid in front of her, and she tuned in to see the line that’d appeared in the several seconds it’d taken for her to zone out. “Come in, Laura,” his small, dirt-encrusted companion shouted.
“You’re Helen’s kids, right?” She handed the older one a few bottles of water and took his money with narrowed eyes. “Okay, smarty-pants. Just because your mom works at the tavern doesn’t mean you can sass me.”
“A little help here?” Sorrow said from behind her. She was balancing a foil-covered tray of corn, hot off the grill, and a handful of cold beers, the bottles sweating with condensation. “I’m losing it.”
Billy swept into the tent, snagging the bottles and hot tray before it all crashed to the dirt. “That’s what fiancés are for.”
Sorrow wiped her hands on her shorts, a broad grin instantly brightening her face. “Hey, Sheriff. Where’d you come from?”
“I sensed a maiden in peril.” He peeked under the foil and smiled. “I thought Sierra Falls was all about barbecue.”
“That’s what we serve at the spring festival,” Laura said distractedly. Though next year, Fairview would probably have something fancy, like…quiches or something.
Sorrow tucked the foil back in place. “For Independence Day, it’s all chili, all the time.”
“Babe, if you’re the one working the magic, it’s all good.” He planted a firm kiss on Sorrow’s cheek and a loving pat on her rump.
Laura turned away. She was happy for her sister, really she was. Not jealous at all. She’d sworn off men. Men were a recipe for disaster and failure.
So why the pang in her chest?
“I’ve come to rescue you,” Billy said, then smiled Laura’s way. “Both of you. I brought backup.”
Helen Haskell, their tavern waitress and bartender, ducked into the tent, slinging her purse atop one of the coolers.
“Hey, Helen.” Sorrow greeted her with a smile.
Laura, though, was feeling a little more impatient. “That’s not a great spot for your bag.”
She credited her mom with keeping the woman employed despite the fact that she was an inveterate flirt who was a bit scatterbrained, with a cranky attitude that was sometimes only thinly veiled.
It was clear Helen had more problems than she let on. But Laura didn’t want to hear it—work was work. Her mom disagreed, though. Edith Bailey wasn’t one to judge, nor would she stand by as another woman struggled alone.
Helen ignored the comment and shouldered her way behind the folding table. “I got it, I got it,” she said, snatching the quarters from Laura’s hand to make change for a young couple grabbing some Sprites.
Laura stepped back, sharing a quick look with her sister. Helen wasn’t generally warm with her, but this was a new low. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Helen watched as the couple felt their tepid cans. “That’s as cold as they get,” she said flatly. “Take it or leave it.” Then she dismissed them with a brittle smile and turned to the Baileys. “I’m here, aren’t I? Though I’m still not quite sure how your sheriff convinced me to take an extra shift.” She’d grumbled the words but pasted a smile on her face, and it struck Laura as only half-playful.
It was good enough for Billy, though. He stood tall, straightening his shirt. “It’s the uniform,” he said proudly. They were playing the nearby town of Paley Pines in their annual softball game, and this year Up Country Hardware had sprung for team shirts emblazoned with a hideous royal-blue version of the Up Country logo on garish yellow. “It gets the ladies every time.”
“Gets them what?” Laura asked. “Blinded?”
Helen’s attention was in the distance, pinned on two of her three kids, roughhousing. “Where’s your sister?” she shouted. “I told you to feed her.” She and her husband had still been teens when she’d gotten pregnant. They’d married, and two more kids had followed, though lately Helen was always grumbling how she might as well have been a single mom.
It gave Laura chills. There’d be no men for her, she resolved. No way, nohow.
Just then a dirt-scuffed little girl appeared, waving her corncob like a greasy baton. “I am eating, Mama.”
Laura didn’t know kids well, but she had a feeling they were supposed to be cleaner than this. “Are you sure you’re up for working the tent? If you need to watch your kids, really, I don’t care about the stupid softball game.”
Helen swung on her. “Are you kidding? Working the tent is a break for me.”
“Stupid?” Billy exclaimed, still hung up on her dissing the big game. “Softball is a sport of great consequence.”
“C’mon, Laura.” Sorrow gave her a nudge, moving her along. “We’ll keep an eye on the kids, Helen.”
“All right, troops.” Billy swung the little girl onto his shoulders, grease and all. “Let’s go kick some butt.”