Jaded (Walkers Ford #2)
Anne Calhoun
This one’s for Kari and Anji: moms from the playground turned best friends, helping me keep it together since 2009.
As always, for Mark.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I could not have written this novel without the able assistance of librarians in Nebraska and South Dakota. Special thanks to Peg Williams of the Potter County Library in Potter County, South Dakota, and Barbara Hegr of the Morton-James Public Library in Nebraska City, Nebraska. Their insights into the daily routines and unique challenges facing rural libraries (and communities) fueled this novel, and I thank them for their time and generosity. Robin Rotham also provided insights into small-town life. Any mistakes are my own.
Jill Shalvis reminded me that sometimes old-school methods work best. Megan Mulry was her usual dazzling self, flinging plot ideas and character insights like holy water.
1
ALANA WENTWORTH LOCKED the front door to the Walkers Ford Public Library with one thing on her mind: Chief of Police Lucas Ridgeway.
She gave the brass door handle an absentminded tug to make sure it was secured before setting off at a brisk walk down the traditionally named Main Street. Lucas usually got home a few minutes after she did. With any luck she’d have just enough time to put on the opposite of her librarian clothes, a primly buttoned silk blouse and cashmere cardigan over a tweed skirt. The blue scoop-neck T-shirt with the rosettes, her 7 For All Mankind jeans, then she’d put a little extra oomph into her makeup. Figure out her strategy before his truck pulled into the driveway next door to hers.
A quick glance at her watch told her she’d left herself just enough time to get ready, but not enough time to talk herself out of what she planned to do.
She stepped lightly in the shallow depressions worn into the marble steps by thousands of residents, and turned for the house she rented from Lucas. Spring had taken a firm grip on the region. The business district’s beautification committee spent the day hanging planters full of impatiens from the green-painted light poles, set out the half barrels spilling over with tulips and crocuses, and hung the banner announcing the upcoming Spring Fling Carnival in a few weeks’ time. Alana noticed the hardy spring flowers only when a sharp knock on the Heirloom Café’s front window snapped her out of her reverie. Fifteen-year-old Carlene Winters, dressed in her green uniform, waved brightly and hurried to the café’s front door.
“Hi, Miss Wentworth! I just wanted to say thanks for the recommendation. I started Pride and Prejudice last night, and I can’t put it down.”
“You’re welcome,” Alana said. “I really have to—”
“The language was a little tough, but I totally got that Mr. Darcy was being mean to Lizzie,” the girl continued. “He says there aren’t any pretty girls for him to dance with, but she’s more than pretty. She’s funny, and she laughs at herself. That should count for something.”
Dear God. Normally she’d love to talk to Carlene about all the intricacies of Darcy and Lizzie’s courtship, but not tonight, not when she wanted to start a courtship of her own. Or something resembling a courtship, in a way. In a very indirect way. “It should,” Alana agreed rather desperately. “I’m sorry, but I have to get home. Come by the library tomorrow and we can talk about it then?”
“Sure! Have a good night.”
An image of Lucas from last Sunday flashed into her mind. He’d caught Alana in her thin robe and nightie, scampering barefoot down the driveway for her Sunday morning tradition of reading the Trib in bed with a pot of coffee and jazz on in the background. Dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and a hunter green fleece pullover, he’d loaded his retired service dog, Duke, into his truck for his Sunday morning tradition of a long hike. As usual, he’d looked unflappable during the embarrassing encounter, but when she reached the safety of the stoop and looked back, he was still watching her.
The look in his dark chocolate eyes had sent heat flickering through her despite the early morning chill. Even now, two days later, her nerves still held the charge of that look.
“I hope to,” she said to Carlene, then set off again, impatient with the delay, but mostly impatient with herself.