18

Charlotte rummaged through her purse and dialed Henry. Straight to voicemail. No. No. No. She left a tense message and placed her phone back in her bag. ‘Don’t panic’. He was probably still asleep. She’d try again later.

Noticing the crumpled bridesmaid dress inside her bag, she felt a pang of guilt. She ignored it and dressed quickly—white capris and a green-and-white tank top with lace trim that barely covered her chest. Was it too revealing?

She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. ‘Before today, that thought would’ve never crossed my mind’. But in this small town? She could only imagine the judgment. Not that she cared. If the sheriff had a problem with it, well, too bad.

She towel-dried her hair, gathered her belongings, and returned to the kitchen. John sat at the table with his mother and another woman.

Hae looked up. "Hon, would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please." Charlotte sat down, setting her case beside her.

"Ms. Lily," the sheriff said, "this is Becky Lilliard, the town nurse. I'd like for her to take a look at you to make sure you're okay."

"Like hell. Nobody in this crazy town is touching me."

Becky's honey-colored eyes filled with alarm and she got to her feet. "I know you're upset---"

"Upset! I was brutalized, bitten by bugs, kidnapped, and fell out of a tree."

Becky gave the sheriff a quick glance. "Perhaps a visit to Temple's emergency room would be wise."

Charlotte crossed her arms. "I’m not going anywhere but home. I’ll see my own doctor in Naperville."

John leaned forward. "So you’re refusing medical treatment?"

"You got it, genius."

His jaw clenched, and she could almost see the anger radiating off him.

Becky raised her hands in surrender. "You’re on your own with this one, John. See you later, Hae."

As the door shut behind her, Charlotte smirked. "Was that supposed to mean something?"

John muttered, "Never mind" and took a sip of coffee.

"I really don't care." She motioned toward the bathroom. "I left my dirty clothes in there. I wasn't sure where the trash was."

Hae turned from pouring a cup of coffee. "Trash? Hon, haven't you ever heard of a washing machine?"

"I'm sure the clothes are ruined." She wasn't going to admit that she'd never used a washing machine.

Whatever." Hae placed a white cup trimmed with blue flowers in front of her.

"Thank you." She wanted to ask for a tall vanilla latte with a shot of caramel, but figured that was out of the question. She wondered whether milk was also out of the question. She hated drinking it black, but she was so hungry it might not matter.

She sensed the sheriff looking at her. He had taken off his hat, and she had seen that a dark hair had fallen across his forehead.

"Did you reach your brother?" he asked.

She held onto the hot cup. "He didn't answer. He's still asleep, for sure. I left a message, though."

"When does he get out of bed?"

Before Charlotte could reply, a little girl and a large yellow dog dashed into the room. She cried out, putting her arms around John's neck, "Daddy, Daddy! Why did you not wake me up? You always wake me."

"Morning, sunshine.". He kissed her cheek and all of his anger disappeared. I've been working all night on a case, so I'm running late."

The girl had blond hair, so she must favor her mother, wherever she was. Clearly, John cherished his daughter. She could tell by his voice and the way his big hands held her---the same way her father had held her.

"I’m hungry and–-" The girl stopped abruptly when she saw Charlotte. "What's she doing here? I don't like her.

"This is Charlotte Lily," John told her. "And she's our guest."

“I don't care. I don't want her in our house!"

John stood with the child in his arms and carried her from the room. Charlotte recognised the girl from the jail and assumed the child had a grudge against her. But for Charlotte, it was a first. She was an endearing woman. She had been, at least, prior to her arrest. Now she was sassy, angry, and just impatient. And she had to acknowledge that when she first met Alice, she had been in a bitchy mood. A mood brought on by the sheriff, her father.

"Do you want anything to eat, hon?" Haetel questioned, as if nothing had happened.

Her hunger overtook everything else. ‘Oh, yes, mercy me, yes. Food and lots of it’. Meekly, she replied, "Yes, please."

Haetel opened a cupboard. "We have cereal, Honey Bunches of Oats, Grape-Nuts, Fruit Loops, Raisin Bran, Cheerios..."

Cereal! She was offering her cereal. Didn't women who lived in the country cook hearty meals? Charlotte had been envisioning waffles or pancakes with bacon and sausage, or French toast dripping with maple syrup. But 'cereal'!

"I'll take the honey-and-oats thing," she said before the offer gets withdrawn.

"The cereal is here, and the bowls are over there." Haetel indicated a different cabinet. "Milk is in the refrigerator, and cutlery is in that drawer. Help yourself. I'm going to get dressed." She then made as graceful of an exit as her floppy slippers would allow.

Charlotte leaped to her feet and picked up the cereal and a bowl. She quickly located a spoon and some milk. She took a moment to look inside the refrigerator where she saw cheese and luncheon meats. But she would only consume what was provided to her. She was going to make Henry buy her the largest lunch imaginable. Maybe steak. Perhaps Chinese. Or Italian. She had never been so hungry.

She had the cereal ready in a moment and took her seat to enjoy it. The dog sat on his haunches, watching her. She ignored him and took a bite.

She was starving, so the cereal tasted like a double-fudge sundae with nuts and a cherry on top. She gobbled it up.

The dog whined. She didn't know anything about dogs. Her father had allergies, so she'd never owned one. Was the animal hungry? Did he want her cereal? Could dogs eat cereal? She didn't have a clue, but he'd have to fight her for it.

She prepared a second bowl and added milk and sugar to her coffee. Again, the dog whined.

“Go away.”

Instead, the dog inched up close and gave her calf a nose kiss. She froze. Was he going to bite her? 'Go away! Go away!'

He persisted though, looking up at her with eager eyes. She patted his head with little hesitation and extended her hand. That seemed to do the trick. Satisfied, he lay down at her feet.

She stared at her hand and wondered if she should wash it. Her logic was obscured by hunger. She wiped it on her pants and kept eating.

There were voices coming from another area of the house. Clearly, the sheriff was speaking with his daughter. The kid didn't have to worry. This guest couldn't wait to leave and she would as soon as possible.