“Well, Evie Blanchard. You met her that day in my store, I think. Your mother and mine were part of the discussion, too.”
“This sounds like trouble, then. As chief of police, I’d better hear what you’re up to so I can be prepared.”
She rolled her eyes. “We want to organize a day of service where hopefully everyone in town works together to help someone else.”
“Sounds ambitious.”
“Maybe, but can’t you just see the possibilities? When we’re done, not only will the town be better tangibly, but I hope people will also feel a little happier. We’re thinking the whole thing should culminate in a charity benefit. A real town celebration. What do you think?”
He pictured it, some Pollyanna-ish utopia of neighbors helping neighbors. Despite a quick cynical vision of fistfights erupting over trees overpruned or fences varnished incorrectly, he couldn’t resist Claire’s excitement. Her whole face glowed with it and she was so lovely there in the evening light that he couldn’t seem to look away.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
“I am. I think it’s just what the people of Hope’s Crossing need to...to begin to heal.”
She smiled a little and reached a hand across the space between them to cover his fingers with hers. He stared at their joined hands and his stomach swooped as if he’d just missed a couple steps and stumbled down a staircase. He didn’t want her to move her hand. Not ever.
What was happening here? His throat felt dry, achy, and his chest was tight. He’d never felt this way about a woman before, he realized, this overwhelming urge to tuck her up against his heart.
He couldn’t seem to look away, edgy and uneasy. All his instincts that had protected him through gang shootings and shaky drug deals were warning him to get the hell out of here now while he could.
Unaware of his turmoil, Claire smiled softly. “Riley, we want the proceeds to go into a scholarship fund to help the youth, in Layla’s name. Don’t you think that would be wonderful?”
“A scholarship.”
Layla should be planning her own college path. Instead his niece was dead and now Claire thought she could make everything better by throwing some kind of work party.
“We want to have it on what would have been her birthday.”
“That’s less than a month away. How can you possibly pull off something this ambitious in that time?”
“It’s definitely going to take work, but we’re setting up committees to handle everything. We were thinking of having the benefit dinner at the Grand Ballroom at the Silver Strike. Since it’s the off-season, I think we can swing it. And Alex of course can help with the food.”
Her voice dwindled when she must have begun to sense his less-than-enthused reaction.
“You don’t like the idea,” she said, looking crestfallen.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Is it the idea of a benefit? It doesn’t have to be something fancy. In fact, it would probably be better if we kept the whole thing low-key, given our time constraints.”
He was angry suddenly. Angry at fate for sending him on that mountain road, at himself for ever thinking he could come home and make this work, especially angry at her for being so decent and good and therefore completely out of his reach.
“Look at you, Claire. You can’t even walk, but you still think you have to save the whole damn town.”
She blinked a little at his sudden attack. “Not true. I’m not trying to save anyone. I just want everyone to come together. To remind the town that we can forget our pain a little when we’re reaching outside of it to help someone else.”
“You want people to forget Layla is dead?”
“I didn’t say that. Not at all.”
“You think if you have people mow a few lawns, wash a few windows, you can stick a bandage on the whole thing and everybody will forget the pain and loss. Just kiss the boo-boo and make it all go away.”
Hurt bloomed in her eyes. “No. Never. I want everyone to remember Layla. Honor her in a positive way. That’s what the scholarship would be.”
“You want to pretend Hope’s Crossing is this idyllic little valley town, full of peace and goodwill, hearts and flowers. Love thy neighbor and all that crap. Well, sorry to break it to you, but the people here can be just as greedy and selfish as anywhere else in the world.”
Her expression grew frosty. “I’m not an idiot, contrary to what you apparently think. I know life in Hope’s Crossing isn’t perfect. But what’s wrong with trying to make it better?”
He had no idea why he was so upset suddenly, but it burned in him, fierce and hot. Frustration over his job, over the charges pending with Charlie Beaumont, over his impossible attraction to Claire, all meshed together in one big ball of anger.