Hidden Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,1

wrong with other parts of me. There was, but Grace didn't know that. No one did.

"Claire." Grace sighed. "What happened to you in Atlanta? You used to understand sarcasm, give as good as you got. You used to be fun."

"Now I'm the mayor," I muttered.

"There you go." My eyes met hers and she winked. "We'll have you back to yourself in no time."

I'd never be the self I'd been before I'd left, but maybe I could at least stop jumping at shadows now that I was home.

The shrill brrrring of the phone made me start up from my chair, heart pounding.

Or not.

Grace made an impatient sound. Had she ever been afraid of anything in her life?

"Don't answer it," Grace ordered. I lifted a brow. "You'll only have to deal with some bum-fuck nonsense, and I need you to come with me."

"Bum-fuck nonsense?" God I'd missed her.

Grace shrugged. "You know how it is around here. Jamie's cow got into Harold's corn. Lucy's cat beat up Carol's dog. Some dumb-ass kid got his head stuck between the bars of the jungle gym and screamed bloody murder for an hour."

"That sounds more like your bum-fuck nonsense than mine." I stood, relieved when my phone stopped ringing at last and went to voice mail.

"Fine." Grace opened the door. "Then you won't have to listen to someone whine about their property lines, their taxes, or the unfairness of the city bylaws."

That would be my bum-fuck nonsense all right.

Pausing at Joyce's desk, I scribbled a note, checked my cell phone to make certain it was on, and jerked a thumb toward the rear exit.

We'd almost reached the back door when someone called, "Mayor?" I began to turn, and Grace shoved me between the shoulder blades.

I stumbled in my off-white pumps, the perfect complement to my pale peach summer suit, then nearly fell on my face when the back door burst open, spilling us into the summer sun.

"Ah." Grace cast an amused glance around the parking lot. "Remember when we smoked pot out here in high school?"

"Grace!"

"What?" She slid dark sunglasses over her light green eyes.

"Someone might hear you."

"So what if they did? It's not like we got high yesterday. We were sixteen."

"It would leave a bad impression," I said stiffly. "You're supposed to be the law around here."

"You want me to arrest myself for something I did ten years ago? Sorry, but the statute of limitations on that crime is over."

Grace set off, her long, lithe legs eating up the distance more quickly than mine ever could. Not that I was short, just shorter, three inches shy of Grace's five-ten. And I wasn't lithe by any means; I was more... round. Not fat - at least not yet. But I had to work at it - low-fat yogurt, low-fat dressing, dessert only on very special occasions, like the Second Coming.

Grace reached the squad car and slid behind the wheel. I clambered into the passenger seat, snagging my hose on the door and cursing.

"If you didn't wear the stupid things," Grace muttered, "you wouldn't ruin them. This isn't Atlanta."

I glanced at Grace's tan slacks and equally tan blouse, complete with a stylish Lake Bluff Sheriff's Department patch.

"Don't say it," she warned.

"Say what?"

"That someone in an outfit like this has no business giving fashion advice."

"Okay." I faced front. "I won't say it."

Grace gave me a long look over the top of her sunglasses; then she just drove.

I'd returned to Lake Bluff three weeks ago for my father's funeral. He'd only been fifty-five, and while he'd never watched his weight, or his intake of cigarettes and whiskey, his death had still been a shock. That I'd agreed to remain and fulfill the rest of his term as mayor had been an even bigger shock, yet here I was.

I stared out the window as we left town and headed onto the highway that led to Lunar Lake. The present incarnation of the town had sprouted on a hill a few miles from the lake - hence its name. No matter where you stood in Lake Bluff, the view was incandescent.

The majority of the population - just under five thousand souls - made their living in the shops, restaurants, and small, quaint hostels that lined the main streets. A goodly portion of that living came to us during our yearly Full Moon Festival.

People traveled from miles around to enjoy the weeklong celebration, which culminated on the day and night of August's full moon with a parade, picnic, and fireworks. We were