Hometown Courtship. Diann Hunt

      “Hey, Mom.” Brad stepped into his childhood home, the stale odor of a house closed up assaulting him. He thought his staying in town for a while would help her, but she was sinking deeper into despair.

      “Hi, Brad.” Annie Sharp pushed herself to a sitting position on the sofa, propped the pillow behind her and worked her fingers through shoulder-length brown tangles.

      In her late fifties, his mom still didn’t have a smidgen of gray. With her big dark eyes and trademark thick locks, men once sought after his mother. But these days she looked too thin, and even he could tell her hair needed professional help. No doubt the same could be said of her inner self.

      Brad walked over and pulled open the living-room curtains. Late afternoon sunlight chased away the gloom. He could see Hammer waiting patiently in the truck.

      “Aw, Brad, why did you do that?” She shielded her eyes. “That gives me a headache.”

      “Mom, you need to let some sunshine in. It’s a beautiful day out there.”

      She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”

      “It’s five. Have you started dinner—more important, have you had lunch?”

      “Now, Brad, don’t you start.”

      He sagged into the cushion beside her and took her limp hands into his. “Mom, you have to take care of yourself.”

      With her eyes cast down, she whispered, “I know.”

      “Are you taking your vitamins?”

      She shrugged.

      “Let me take you out to dinner.”

      She glanced up. “Oh, no, no, Brad. I’m a mess.” She absently ran a hand over her hair again.

      “So go get cleaned up.” He wondered how long she’d been in those wrinkled clothes.

      “Thank you, honey, but I’m too tired to go anywhere.”

      “Mom. When was the last time you left this house?” Stray wrappers, newspapers, paper plates and empty glasses littered the room. Guilt speared him. He needed to make sure she got out once in a while. He should have been coming over more often. Work had gotten in the way of his good judgment—again.

      She shrugged.

      “You need to get out.”

      “I will. I have to go to the nursing home soon and see your grandmother.”

      She leaned back against the sofa as though she barely had the strength to talk.

      “How’s Gram doing?” He hadn’t been over there in a while, either.

      “’Bout the same. She misses Princess.” Princess was a nickname Nicole had been given as a small child. To Brad, the name had been prophetic. She had fallen into what he called the “princess curse,” where women think they have to have the perfect bodies, yet in their minds their bodies are never good enough. That curse had killed his sister, and left a huge hole in their family.

      “We all miss her. But Nicole would want us to go on, Mom.” He told himself that every day.

      She lifted dark, watery eyes. “I try. I really do.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

      “I know.” He pulled her frail body to him. “Let me take you to see Gram tomorrow.”

      She finally pulled away, teetering a moment, then dabbed her nose with a tissue. “You have a job to do.”

      “Well, how about I pick up dinner and then take you to see Gram, after I get off work?”

      “I don’t know.”

      He looked at her tattered clumps of hair. “I could even take you out to get your hair done, to make you feel better.”

      For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of excitement. But she said, “I’m not ready for that, Brad.”

      Disappointment flooded him. What could he do to help his mom? Right now she looked so…old. Lifeless.

      “But if you’ll take me to see your grandma in the next day or two, that would be good.”

      He’d take what he could get. “Great. In the meantime, I’m running to that Chinese restaurant down the road that you love. I’ll pick you up some dinner. Be right back.”

      As though she were too weary to argue, she leaned back into her pillow. “Okay, honey.”

      He suspected she would drift back to sleep before he pulled out of the driveway.

      “How you doing this morning?” Heather’s hyper voice said she’d already downed two cups of coffee. Callie could hear the whir of her car engine and the swishing of traffic in the background.

      “It’s just so wrong that you’re this happy in the morning. Please don’t tell me you’re already on your way to work.” Callie settled onto the foot of her soft bed blanketed with billowy comforters. Chaos, her sandy-haired cocker spaniel puppy, trotted over to her and tried to get on the bed. With the mounds of blankets, it was too hard for him to jump up. Callie snatched her pooch and snuggled into his silky fur.

      “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

      Callie giggled when Chaos tried to lick her face. “Stop.”

      “Are you listening to me or playing with that dog again?”

      “Guilty on both counts.”

      Heather sighed. “Tossed aside for a puppy.”

      “You’re not as cute.”

      “Can’t argue with you there.”

      “So, why are you off and running this morning?” Callie asked.

      “I’ve got an early hearing.”

      “Well, I’m in no hurry to do my community service, but you’ll be happy to know I’m making an effort to get there on time.”

      “That a girl.”

      “They’d better save me some coffee, that’s all I’ve got to say.”

      “Well, behave yourself. I don’t have time to represent you on any criminal charges just now.”

      “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll certainly keep that in mind before I go out and commit my next crime.” Tucking himself into a perfect circle, Chaos settled onto her lap.

      Heather laughed. “So how do you like working with Brad Sharp?”

      “Wow, I’m impressed that you remembered his name.”

      “Oh, uh, well—”

      “Hey, wasn’t that the judge’s last name? Sharp?”

      “Uh, yes—yes, I think it was.” Heather was stuttering. Heather never stuttered.

      “I smell a rat.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      “Is he related to Judge Sharp?”

      “Well, it is entirely possible. They both have the same last name, after all.”

      “Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest or something?” This whole matter did not sit right with her. Something was going on.

      “Just because he’s having you do community service on a project with his brother does not merit a conflict of interest.”

      “Aha, so you admit it!” Callie was incensed.

      “Well, yeah, I do. So Brad is his brother. What’s the big deal?”

      “Just seems like they’re in cahoots about something. And actually it seems like you might be involved, Heather. Do you know Brad?”

      “What? I