shirt catching the stage lights and shimmering, he stuck every step of “Single Ladies” along with the girls, right on cue.
What he did not do during the number was leap off the stage and race toward her with a ring to put on her.
Thank God.
Then, suddenly, the entire audience was leaping to its feet in a standing ovation. The show was over, and Molly was very, very relieved, in more ways than one.
“I’m going to kill you for scaring me like that,” she said to Henry, as they both applauded.
He looked crushed. “I don’t know what happened. The rumor mill is usually right!”
“Oh, sure. Like it was about me carrying his twins when all I did was wear a high-waisted blouse and eat a whole Harpooner burger from the Mermaid Café for lunch one day?”
Henry sighed. “I’ll never listen to a single scrap of gossip ever again.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Everyone agreed, as they filed out, that the show had been outstanding—the best Snappettes performance of all time.
“The sheriff was so good,” people kept saying to Molly.
“This is exactly what the town needed,” others were saying. “It’s good for everyone to have something to come together over, something we can all agree on, despite our differences. And we can all agree that the Snappettes are amazing! And so is our sheriff!”
Molly beamed. It was nice to hear that something she’d helped work on with two people she loved so much had succeeded.
She looked for both John and Katie in the crowd—they were supposed to meet after the performance to get a celebratory dinner together—but she didn’t see them.
“Oh, Molly, there you are!” Joanne and Carl Larson caught up with her in the lobby. “I was hoping we’d see you here. Wasn’t that wonderful?”
“Hello!” Molly exchanged hugs with her former landlady and employer. “Yes. How are you both doing?”
“Great! You need to thank your sheriff for us, Molly.” Joanne was grinning as she squeezed Molly’s hand. “We didn’t think anyone could take your place, but Eric Swanson is working out swell.”
“That’s good,” Molly said. She’d felt guilty about leaving the Larsons, but when the opportunity to move into a sweet little one-bedroom apartment above Island Blooms had become available, she simply hadn’t been able to turn it down. She’d been running herself ragged trying to work nights at the inn while putting in full days at the library, especially after the new library opened. There’d been so much extra work to do.
Fortunately, John had recommended one of his deputies to the Larsons to take her place at the Lazy Parrot, and the transition had worked out perfectly.
“I’m glad Eric’s doing well,” Molly said.
“More than well.” Carl was practically radiating high spirits. The Snappettes could do that to people. “That guy’s got a real feel for hospitality. I don’t know what he was doing in law enforcement in the first place.”
“That’s so good to hear! I have to go now, okay? I’ll see both of you later.” Molly happened to spy John—who’d changed back into his regular street clothes—in the crowd behind Carl and Joanne. He was holding the bouquet of roses that Patrick and Bill had given him and throwing her desperate looks while trying to fend off a large group of other well-wishers.
“Oh, of course, honey.” Joanne gave her one last hug. “Give Fluffy the Cat my love. We miss him over at the inn, but he just loved you so much—it’s better that he’s with you.”
“I will! And thanks!”
And then Molly was across the lobby and at John’s side.
“You were so great!” she cried, rising on tip-toe to give him a modest peck on the cheek. She didn’t want to scandalize any of the “cottontops”—as John affectionately referred to Little Bridge’s more elderly citizens—by doing what she wanted to, which was throw her arms around him and kiss him on the lips.
“Thank you, Molly,” he said, behaving as circumspectly as she was—but only, she knew, because they were in public. “I have to admit, I was pretty nervous.”
“Glad it wasn’t me up there,” Randy Jamison, the city planner, said, slapping John on the back. “Of course, it wouldn’t have been, because I’d have to be dead before I’d be caught up on a stage like that.”
“That could be arranged,” Pete Abramowitz said dryly.
“What was that?” Randy asked.
“Nothing.” Pete winked at Molly, who grinned back at him.
“Do you want to get out of here?” John leaned down to whisper in Molly’s ear.
“Sure, if you want to. But what