Home to Sparrow Lake. Lynn Patrick

Brian, who was still working on filling those orders. Undoubtedly he was surprised to see a teenage boy working in a store frequented mostly by women.

      When Alex turned his gaze back to her, Kristen said, “If there’s ever anything I can do for you—”

      “There is.” A slow, easy grin lit his face. “You can have dinner with me.”

      Though her pulse fluttered at the thought, she frowned in response. “Dinner?”

      “You know, that’s when you eat to satisfy those hunger pangs in the evening hours.”

      “Um, I don’t—”

      “Eat?”

      “I was going to say that I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

      “Which part?”

      “My dating you to pay you for fixing the glass.”

      “That’s not exactly what I was asking you to do.”

      “What, then?”

      “I just want to get to know you better.”

      Tempted, Kristen swallowed hard. She had to admit the police chief had more going for him than she’d first thought and not just in the looks department. He might be a little snarky at times, but he was a well-intentioned person. His fixing the window had been very thoughtful. But she’d had a purpose in moving to Sparrow Lake, and it certainly wasn’t to find a man. She wasn’t going to be here that long, anyway. A few months at most. Getting involved romantically would just complicate things.

      Alex cleared his throat. “About dinner?”

      “I appreciate your interest, but I don’t think it’s a good idea under any circumstances.”

      His expression went neutral when he asked, “Any particular reason?”

      Realizing she might have offended the man again, Kristen assured him, “It’s not you, Alex. I simply have too much on my plate right now to be indulging in any kind of extracurricular activities.”

      “Wow, that sounds sad.”

      “What’s sad about my being focused?”

      “On work?”

      “Aren’t you focused on your job?” Which he ought to be, considering he was chief of police, Kristen thought.

      “Within reason. But...hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll just leave now.”

      “Good... I mean...all right. And thanks again.”

      If he heard her, he didn’t respond, simply headed out the door.

      And Kristen quickly deflated. Turning back to her computer, she realized Aunt Margaret was standing there, had probably caught the whole show.

      “Aunt Margaret, I didn’t realize you were coming in this afternoon.”

      “I just came back from my meeting with the dean.”

      Indeed, Aunt Margaret was dressed more conventionally than usual in a skirted suit. Of course, she’d added a purple-and-blue flower-print blouse and matching earrings.

      “So what are you doing here?”

      “I just thought I would check in to see how things were going.” Aunt Margaret arched her eyebrows. “Which seems to be in an interesting direction for you.”

      Desperate to get her aunt talking about anything but Alex, Kristen asked, “How did your meeting go?”

      Her aunt gave her a look that said she knew Kristen was avoiding. Then she said, “Dean Whitiker was very cordial, and of course he understood that I needed time to do other things.”

      “So you’ll still be able to teach a few classes if you want?”

      “He seemed amenable to the idea.” Her aunt looked up. “I see the window is fixed. What time did Chuck get here?”

      “Actually, your handyman never got back to me.”

      Appearing surprised, Aunt Margaret asked, “Then how—”

      “Alex.”

      “Really. The chief of police fixed our store window? And how did that happen?”

      Kristen explained, telling her aunt about their earlier encounter and then Alex’s showing up to replace the pane of glass.

      “I do believe he’s sweet on you.”

      “Is not!”

      Her aunt laughed. “You’re certain of that?”

      “Well, it wouldn’t matter if he was.” Kristen threw herself back into her desk chair. “I can’t get involved with anyone from Sparrow Lake.”

      “Why ever not?”

      Hearing her aunt’s indignant tone, Kristen thought she was on a roll, insulting people when she didn’t mean to. She tried to explain in a nonconfrontational way. “I have nothing against anyone here, but you know I’m leaving as soon as I find a new job in Chicago. I have to get my career back on track.” She would show everyone that she could do it. Her former bosses, the business associates who’d no longer had time for her, the friends who’d come to her emotional aid but had looked at her with pity. “I don’t believe in long-distance relationships. They never work out.”

      “Relationships are more important than careers, sweetheart.”

      “You couldn’t prove that by me.”

      “Just remember that a job can’t take you in its arms for a hug when you need one.”

      Her aunt, the romantic, Kristen thought. Aunt Margaret might have found her true love in Donald Becker, but Kristen hadn’t forgotten how Jason had abandoned her in her hour of need.

      Much the same way her father had abandoned his whole family.

      * * *

      THOUGH SHE’D SWORN she was going to leave the store early that evening, Kristen ended up hanging around long enough for one of the quilting classes to start. Gloria was teaching a beginner/intermediate session in the back and there were five women seated around the large table there. Kristen knew two of the women, but the others had probably moved to town after she’d left for college.

      “This is Margaret’s niece, Kristen,” Gloria told them, her dark eyes bright. “She’s here to help her aunt with the store.”

      Kristen nodded at Nellie Martin, an elderly woman wearing large black-framed glasses. She owned the consignment shop a couple of streets over. “Hi, Nellie, it’s good to see you again. I’ve come to love consignment stores.” She’d frequented a couple in Chicago where she’d gotten most of her designer duds at a significant discount.

      “Well, then, drop by and we’ll get reacquainted,” Nellie told her.

      Kristen moved on to the next woman at the large table, a mousy little middle-aged woman in a gray dress. Emily Auerbach was the mayor’s wife.

      “How nice that you take classes here,” murmured Kristen, to which Emily merely nodded with a tight smile.

      Emily always had been more than a little eccentric, as Kristen had realized when she was a kid. On Halloween one year, Emily had posted “Keep Away” and “No Candy Here” signs on her lawn. The next year she’d decorated. No signs. Still, one of Kristen’s friends had insisted Emily was a real witch, and all the kids had avoided her.

      Gloria introduced her to one of the new women in town—Shara Lessley, a beautiful young African-American woman with a headful of tiny braids. The other was Laurie Jamison, a thin redhead. Kristen tried to connect descriptions with names so she could remember them. Even so, she would be lucky if her tired brain recalled anyone.

      “Are you an artist like your aunt?” Shara asked.

      Kristen