By two o’clock, the party was winding down. Most of the guests had left. Marianne was sitting on a chair with her feet up while Joanna and Kristin Marsten loaded the gifts into Eleanor Winfield’s Buick. “I’ll bet you were in on planning this, too, weren’t you?”
Kristin, a good-looking blond, twenty-something, had been the previous sheriff’s private secretary long before Joanna’s election. Attached to the previous administration and resentful at having a female boss, Kristin had been difficult to handle at first. She and Joanna had lived through several stormy periods, not only right after the election but again when Dick Voland, Joanna’s former chief deputy, had left the department. Things were better now. Joanna was somewhat concerned about the fact that Kristin was dating Terry Gregovich, her department’s K-9 officer. However, since the secretary and deputy were being discreet about their relationship, and since they didn’t hang around mooning at one another on the job, Joanna hadn’t voiced too many complaints.
“I did help,” Kristin admitted. “Reverend Maculyea wanted to have the party sometime during the week, but I told her she’d be better off having it on a weekend when I could make sure Chief Deputy Montoya was on call and looking after things.”
“Is that why my beeper hasn’t gone off even once today?” Joanna asked.
Kristin glanced shyly in her boss’s direction. “Could be,” she said. “I told Frank not to call you out unless it was a dire emergency.”
“Thanks, Kristin, it must be working. I was beginning to worry that maybe my pager was out of order.”
“I’ll go get the last load of presents,” Kristin told her. “You wait here.”
Joanna was standing next to the open passenger door when she heard a car waiting to park in the next space. She moved out of the way. Only when the driver unfolded his long legs and stepped out of a late-model white Camry did she recognize Dick Voland. It was the first time she had encountered the man in person since their confrontation on the road to High Lonesome Ranch months earlier.
“Hello, Dick,” she said, struggling to keep her tone of voice even. It was bad enough seeing him again after so many months. The fact that she had to peer up at him from under the brim of that ridiculous bride-inscribed baseball cap made it that much worse. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Fine,” Voland answered. When he hoisted his pants, Joanna noticed they were quite loose around the middle. His belt showed marks where it had once been fastened before a considerable loss of weight. Joanna could see that the man was in far better shape than he had been in those first unhappy months after his divorce when he had been drinking too much and not taking care of himself.
“You look good,” she said. “You’ve lost weight.”
Nodding, Dick Voland patted what had once been a bulging belly. “I’ve been working out again,” he told her.
“I’ll say,” Joanna replied.
Just then Kristin emerged from the restaurant bearing the last load of gifts. On top of the stack was the box from Victoria’s Secret. Kristin paused uncertainly when she caught sight of Dick Voland.
“Hello, Mr. Voland,” she mumbled. “Good to see you.”
As she bent over to put the armload of gifts in the car, the topmost lid caught on the side of the trunk door and spilled a flimsy froth of tissue-wrapped green nightgown out onto the ground. “Oh, no,” she wailed. “I’ve probably ruined it.”
Dick Voland reached down and picked it up, dusting it off as he did so. “No harm done,” he said, holding it out to her. “A little bit of dust never hurt anything.”
Embarrassed, Kristin ignored the proffered gown and fled back inside, leaving Joanna the task of dealing with the gown herself.
“Thanks,” Joanna said as she stuffed it back into the box. Waiting long enough for her own blush to dissipate, she closed the trunk. When she straightened up, Dick Voland was still looming over her. He may have lost weight, but he was still six feet four. Joanna was wearing two-inch heels. The top of her baseball cap barely grazed the bottom of his chin.
“What can I do for you, Dick?” she asked, trying to put their conversation on some kind of businesslike basis.
For his part, Voland didn’t appear to be any happier about the situation than Joanna was. Acting for all the world like a dumbstruck teenager, he stared down at his feet for some time before he spoke.
“Marliss told me about the shower. I didn’t mean to upset anything, but I needed to talk to you.”
“The shower’s over. It’s fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“It’s awkward.”
“What’s awkward?”