Sheriff Bill Watson is in his late fifties, with short, graying dark hair. As usual, he’s in his khaki uniform. We’ve seen him around town, but he’s always busy, so we’ve never had much time to stop and talk for long.
His blue eyes crinkle, showing laugh lines too numerous to count. “If it isn’t Ben Hayes. You been getting into any trouble?”
“No, sir.” Ben laughs, pressing his body against my leg.
A couple of days ago, Sheriff Watson pretended not to notice Ben picking up his gold badge from the diner’s front counter. It was only inches away from Ben’s juice box because Ben had beenstaring at it, his desperate need to touch it radiating so strongly I could feel his excitement. A sheriff likely has much keener instincts than I do, even when their attention is elsewhere.
Sheriff Watson, busy talking to Lawrence, one of his deputies, had unclipped his badge from his belt, set it casually on the counter, and turned to ask a question that required a lengthy answer from a confused-looking Lawrence.
I’d watched from Ben’s other side as he hesitated, glanced at the sheriff, then at me. At my nod, he picked up the badge, studied it closely with wide eyes, and then carefully placed it back where he'd found it when he was through looking at it. For a man who had such a fierce expression, I’d been surprised and pleased by his thoughtfulness, and Ben hadn’t stopped talking about it that night to Murph, Win, and Joel at dinner.
I’m not sure if a sheriff is supposed to do that when he’s working. Probably not. But Sheriff Watson noticed Ben’s curiosity, fed it, and then tucked his badge back onto his belt as if nothing had happened.
“Well, if you and your mom ever want to stop by the sheriff’s office to look around, my wife, Audrey, manages the front desk and would love to meet you,” Sheriff Watson says to Ben.
“We saw her outside the grocery store the other day,” I explain.
“She said we could look in the jail.” Ben grins.
Sheriff Watson’s bushy eyebrows shoot up.
I squeeze Ben’s hand. “She said we could stick our noses inside, but the door would be open. Ben wanted to see it. Audrey would not have offered if Ben hadn’t asked.” I wouldn’t want him to think his wife is trying to lock people up while he’s out and about.
“Then I see no problem with it. I’ll let Lawrence and Gary know that it’s okay with me in case I’m not there to show youaround,” Sheriff Watson tells Ben and focuses on me. “Good to see you settling.”
“It’s an easy thing to do.”
He nods. “If you have any problems, you know where to find me.”
I smile. “I’ll do that, thanks.”
We say our goodbyes, and he leaves as Ben pulls his hand from mine. He is fast outgrowing having it held. He rushes to the front counter, where Win, seeing him through the kitchen hatch, stops singing and waves. Win looks pretty busy in there, so it’s Nico, Lina’s dad, who steps around the counter with a smile and helps him onto a stool before I can lift him.
“Thanks, Nico,” I say gratefully.
He waves away my gratitude. “Good to see this little one again. Here for lunch?”
I shake my head. It’s nearly midday, but Ben and I had a big snack before we left the house, and neither of us is particularly hungry yet. We ate nearly half a container of peanut butter with our sliced apples and bananas. “Just a drink. I was actually hoping to speak to Lina about something.”
Nico points at a large table where Lina is busy taking orders. “She’ll be free in a minute. Anything wrong?”
“Not wrong. I had a couple of questions.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Anything I can help you with?”
I lean against the counter beside Ben, not wanting to take up a stool since I’ll be getting up in a bit to talk to Lina when she’s free. “I think only Lina can, but it’s nothing serious.”
“Let me get you two a drink. Lina will be free in a second. It’s quiet, so I can keep an eye on Ben if you want to talk with Lina away from curious ears,” he says with a sparkle in his eyes, for good reason. Ben isn’t even trying to hide that he’s eavesdropping.
“That sounds great, but no drink for me yet.”
By the time Nico has prepared a small chocolate shake for Ben, Lina has finished taking orders from her large table of eight. She passes the tickets to Win through the hatch, then walks toward me. Her expression is curious as she tucks her notebook into the front pocket of her apron while Nico gets pies and coffee for people who just walked in and are sitting at the counter.
“Dad said you had a couple of questions,” she says.
“I do.” I point to an empty table with dirty plates. “Want me to help you clear that while I ask? Your dad said he’d keep an eye on Ben for a couple of minutes.”
“You don’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” She turns to Nico. “Dad, can you?—”
