"Yes, Miss Sinclair. The only day Tiffany Ann was in here." Nina shifted uncomfortably. "I told you she was in here when you asked me just the other day."

"I know you did. I just didn't realize the stain was hers." Not that it mattered. Who cared whether it was from Tiffany Ann Gilbert or some resident of the local senior center? A stain was a stain.

But still.

"What do you mean the only day Tiffany Ann was in here? Surely she came into the library from time to time, right?" She glanced from Nina to Milo and back again, their heads shaking in unison. "What? She had something against the library?"

"She wasn't a reader," Milo offered. "I had a lengthy discussion with her parents one day about how pleased they were to see Tiffany Ann's nieces and nephews devouring books after being in my class. They said Tiffany Ann had never been like that. That's why they asked me to tutor her. But she just didn't love books. Not before I came along and not after."

"I've been here four years and I've never seen her in this branch . . . ever," Nina added quietly.

"So what made that day different? Why was she knocking into people in line at Debbie's Bakery just to come to a place she didn't like?" Returning to her desk chair, Tori rested her elbows on her desk and cradled her head in her hands. "I just don't get this. I don't get any of this."

She heard Milo's feet as he crossed the room to her desk, felt his strong hands as they began to knead her shoulders. Slowly, hesitantly, his long capable fingers rubbed at the tension that had knotted itself into her body.

"You'll figure it out . . . we'll figure it out." He continued working her shoulders with his hands, his touch warming her body from top to bottom.

As much as she tried to discount his words and offer of support, there was something about Milo Wentworth that made her believe it was possible. That a man could truly want to follow his words through with actions.

"Miss Sinclair, if it's okay, I'd like to head home to Duwayne. He's probably as hungry as a racehorse 'round 'bout now."

Tori lifted her head as Milo's hands stopped moving and he stepped to the side. "Of course, Nina. I'm sorry you got wrapped up in this afternoon's drama." She pushed her chair back once again, this time crossing the room for the sole purpose of hugging her assistant. "I don't know how and I don't know when . . . but I promise you we will be able to focus purely on library things sometime soon."

"I know we will." Nina stepped back from Tori's embrace and grabbed her lunch sack from the narrow table beside the office door. "I can see now why the board picked you. I wasn't ready no matter how badly Duwayne thought I was. But one day, dab by dab, I will be."

"I don't doubt that for one second." As Nina walked out the door and into the hallway Tori turned and faced Milo. "A dab?"

"A little bit. A small quantity." He returned her stare with a smile, one that started in his eyes and spread to his mouth. "I know. I know. But when you learn it, you'll be good to go."

"Any chance I could talk Debbie's husband into abandoning his latest writing project in favor of a dictionary of southern expressions? I'd buy a copy-maybe even several. One for my house, one for my office, one for the branch."

"You wouldn't need one in the branch." Milo peeked out the window into the night, the blanket of darkness broken by a smattering of streetlamps and a few stars. "Everyone in Sweet Briar knows the talk."

She set her hands on her hips. "What about the poor soul who moves here and needs a little assistance learning-wait, scratch that. No one in their right mind would move into this town. They'd have their possessions disappear into thin air and they'd be accused of every crime known to mankind that happens in this tow-what? Where are we going?"

His hand sent a charge through her body the second he took hold of her arm and started guiding her toward the hallway. "For a walk."

"A walk?" she protested feebly.

"Nights don't get much more beautiful than this, and I don't want to waste another second of it sitting inside your office listening to you rant about the many pitfalls of life in Sweet Briar."

"Rant? Me?" She felt her heart sink as his words took root in her thoughts, highlighting the many examples of his accusation. "I'm sorry. Why don't you head home? Get as far away from me and my pity-party as you possibly can?"

"Oh I'm not in any hurry to get away from you." He cleared his throat, his hand shaking ever so slightly as he pulled the door shut behind them and led her into the library's parking lot. "I just think we both could use a little fresh air."

She couldn't argue. In fact, the cool night air felt good against her flushed cheeks. It slowed her down, made her breathe a little more deeply.

And it gave her some quiet time alone with Milo. Time that didn't include other people's children or a project in the library.

Unfortunately, now that they had the time, she had no idea what to say. She hadn't done much of anything since moving to Sweet Briar. And she'd already ranted about her role as a suspect long enough.

"Did you enjoy the fair last week?" he asked as they strolled around the library and headed down the sidewalk that lined the town's square.

She looked up at the stars, found the Little Dipper, and made a wish. "I did. Much more than I thought I would."

He nodded as they walked, the gesture an obvious ploy to make her elaborate.

"I think it's kind of neat to be in a place where everyone knows each other. They know each other's children and grandchildren. I've never really lived in a place like this before." She stole a glance in his direction as they passed the playground and the center gazebo, hoped her answer smoothed some of the sting from her earlier words. Sweet Briar was Milo's home and it wasn't polite to trash it simply because it wasn't necessarily the right place for her.

She said as much to him.

"Why don't you hold off just a little while longer before deciding whether Sweet Briar is right for you." He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to a large rock at the far edge of the square. Removing his hand from her back he lowered it to the rock and patted the flat surface. "You like your sewing circle, right?"

She nodded. "I did. I mean, I do. But"-she exhaled a pent-up burst of air that begged to be released-"sewing just does that. It calms you. It forges an instant bond with others who sew, too. I could find a circle anywhere."

"You could," he agreed. "But you already have one here."

"True."

"Tell me about it," he prompted.

"About what?" she asked.

"Sewing. Why you like it so much."

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess it's about bypassing the easy store purchase and doing it yourself. With your own vision, your own tastes, your own hands. It's special in a way I'm not sure I can fully explain. And to be around other people who feel the same just makes it even more special."

He tilted his head ever so slightly as he studied her, tiny crinkles forming beside his eyes as he smiled and patted the rock once again. "Oh, Tori, once this whole mess is settled, I suspect Sweet Briar is going to embrace you."

Claiming the spot he indicated, Tori set her back against the rock and lifted herself to a sit with her forearms. "You and Nina sound so sure of that."

"Because we are."

She turned her head away from him, focused on the tiny white lights that trimmed the gazebo. "But you can't be. Neither of you even really know me. So how can you be sure you're right and Investigator McGuire and the rest of Sweet Briar are wrong?"

He guided her focus back with a gentle touch to her chin. "First of all, I'm good at reading people. Always have been. I suspect Nina is as well. It's the positive side of being"-he raised the index and middle fingers of both hands into the air-"shy. We can observe while everyone else is talking."

Dropping her gaze to her hands she waited for him to continue, her psyche suddenly desperate for the reassurance he offered.

"Second of all, you don't know what all of Sweet Briar thinks."

Her head popped up. "But Leona and Georgina and the investigator and the parents of your students-"

He held an index finger to her lips. "A few parents is not all. There were more kids in school that day than out and those families were every bit aware of what was going on as the others were. They just believe in waiting for the facts. Like Nina does. And Margaret Louise. And Debbie. And Colby Calhoun. And-"

"I've never even met Colby," she offered in protest.

"He sent his projector, didn't he?" Milo slid his finger back to her chin, forced her gaze to meet his. "And no, he wouldn't have sent it over just because Debbie told him to. Colby is an independent thinker."

She weighed his words, allowed her heart to try them on for size. Milo was right. She had people who believed in her and she knew that. So why was it easier to focus on the handful of people who felt differently?

"It's easier to believe the bad stuff sometimes, isn't it?"

She stared at him, her mouth agape. "How-how did you know I was thinking that exact thing?"

He shrugged, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'm really a psychic posing as a third grade teacher."

It felt good to laugh, to surrender her body to a little fun after the mammoth-sized mountains and unending obstacles she'd been maneuvering for days. "Thank you, Milo," she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"For what?"

"I don't know . . . for everything, I guess." She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged her legs tightly as she took in the stars overhead. "For being open to the fact that I might actually be an okay person, for letting me read with Lulu, for making Heritage Day even more fun, for giving me pep talks when I need them most."

"Wow. You make me sound like a pretty nice guy." He rocked his body to the side, his head gently grazing hers before straightening up once again. "But you make it easy. You're truly a gift to my students . . . and to me."

"Even if I'm the reason you no longer get apples?" She kept her face directed toward the stars despite the distinct feeling that he was studying her closely.

"Especially because I no longer get apples." He pushed out his fairly muscular stomach and patted it soundly. "I'm much more of a butter kind of guy. It's easier to spread on bread."

A whistled melody cut short their laughter and made them both turn. A single solitary figure strolled down the sidewalk in their direction, the familiar swagger a dead giveaway as to the man's identity.

Investigator McGuire.

She felt Milo's hand cover hers as her body tensed in reaction.

"It's okay," he mumbled under his breath as he hopped down from the rock and extended his hand to the police officer. "Investigator McGuire, what brings you around this time of night?"

The officer's steel gray eyes left Milo's and focused squarely on Tori. "Just keeping my eyes and ears open for any potential issues."

"Issues?" she challenged.

"The kind of things that threaten Sweet Briar's way of life." The officer rested his hand on the top of his gun belt, his fingers wrapped casually around the black baton.

"Don't you mean the kind of people who threaten Sweet Briar?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean both. I have my eyes open at all times."

She knew she shouldn't laugh but she couldn't help herself. Investigator Daniel McGuire was a perfect caricature of the narrow-minded cop found in all too many bad movies. Unfortunately, in this case, the movie was her life.

"Well, we were just getting ready to continue our walk so we'll leave you to your work, Investigator." Milo reached a hand in Tori's direction, pulling her off the rock the moment she took hold. "Good night."

They walked a few hundred yards before either glanced over their shoulder or uttered a word.

"I'm sorry about that; if I knew we'd run into him I never would have suggested a walk." Milo dug his hands into his pockets as they crossed the center of the square and turned toward the library.

"No. It was fine. Great, actually." She inhaled deeply, willed herself to focus on how much she'd enjoyed their time together rather than the minor irritation that was Investigator McGuire. "One day very soon I'll figure out what happened to Tiffany Ann and he won't be able to harass me any longer."

"Any progress yet?" Milo's words trailed off into the air as a police car drove slowly down the road just inches from where they stood.

"Will it ever stop?" she said, the sudden influx of tears evident in her voice.

His hand, warm and strong, took hold of hers as they watched the car pass. "Oh, wait . . . never mind . . . that's one of our cars. McGuire's been driving his Tom's Creek car."

She forced her body to relax as they continued walking, his hand still entwined with hers. "How many cars does Sweet Briar have?"

"Two or three. Though we only have one officer-Chief Dallas. We had a part-time patrolman at one time but we just didn't need him. It's about as quiet as it comes here in Sweet Briar. At least it was."

"So who's driving the cars?" she asked.

"Probably Thomas. He seems to be doing that more lately, particularly at night." Milo shrugged. "Perk of being married to the mayor, I guess."

"Driving a police car is a perk?"

"Every little boy's dream." He flashed a smile at her as they walked, two dimples appearing in his cheeks.

"Even you?"

"Nah. I thought the garbage trucks were cooler."

As they approached the library from the west he stopped and gestured toward a quiet residential street on their left. When she nodded, he turned in that direction, a move she couldn't help but see as an intentional effort to elongate their time together.

"With Tiffany Ann's death and everything I can't help but think this town could probably use a few more officers, don't you?" She reveled in the feel of his skin against hers, willed his steady confidence and positive attitude to seep through her skin.

"Nah. Stuff doesn't happen here. Not usually anyway. And if Dallas needs help, then Tom's Creek sends an officer."

She pondered his words, a question forming on their heels. "Is that what we do for Ridge Cove, seeing as how they don't have a police force at all?"

"They're covered by county, which isn't a good thing for anyone, even a place as dinky as Ridge Cove. The response time is pathetic." Milo pointed at a pale yellow house on the left side of the road, a For Sale sign gracing its front lawn. "I love that place. I even checked it out with a realtor last week, and it's even more charming inside."

"Are you going to buy it?" She looked from Milo to the house and back again, his enthusiasm for the structure bringing a smile to her lips.

"I wish. But it'd be silly for a single guy like me. Besides, there's nothing wrong with my place." He pointed at a large tree in the front yard. "But can't you just see kids hanging from that tree?"

"And breaking their necks?" Her laughter was met by a squeeze of her hand and a flush on her face. "But if there's nothing wrong with your place why would you want to move?"

"To have a fresh start, I guess. A place where the only memories are ones to be made . . . now and in the future."

They continued on in silence, the sound of their feet on the sidewalk the only noise to be heard as they retreated to their own private thoughts and dreams.

Finally she spoke, her words tumbling from her mouth at the very same moment the question formed in her thoughts. "So Ridge Cove would be better off receiving police coverage from Sweet Briar than from the county?"

"Of course they would. It would take far less time and from what I've heard they'd be in a lot better hands." He looked down at her as they walked, his brows slightly furrowed. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I guess the guy made a smart decision." Wordlessly they turned around at the end of the street and headed back toward their original destination, the sound of an occasional cricket peppering the air around them.

"What guy?"

"The guy who runs one of the flea markets in Ridge Cove." She thought back to the sign over the store and the way customers had greeted him the moment they arrived. "I guess he's Stu . . . of Stu's Flea Market. I met him this morning when I went trunk searching."