Page 45 of The Worst Possible Plan

“Perfect timing,” Mike said, sounding far too pleased with himself.

“I know.” She set the pie down on the workbench before looking around the table, taking in five grown men with the same expression elementary school teachers reserved for classrooms that had suddenly gone suspiciously quiet. “What are you all staring at?”

Mike pointed at me with absolutely no loyalty whatsoever. “There’s a woman.”

Carol didn’t even look in my direction. “Of course there is.” She reached for the pie server calmly, like she refused to acknowledge manufactured drama until she’d confirmed it deserved her attention.

Dave laughed. “No, no. A woman.”

Carol picked up the pie server. “I’m still not hearing the problem.” She glanced between the five of us. “Unless one of you suddenly forgot how women work.”

“The sheriff’s got a girl,” pressed Dave.

Finally she looked at me.

I raised both hands. “I’ve said absolutely nothing.” That seemed like the smartest move.

“I noticed.” She nodded approvingly before turning back to her husband. “Unlike the four of you.” Her gaze lingered on each man in turn. “Honestly, you’re worse than my quilting group, and at least they wait until everyone has coffee before dissecting someone’s love life.”

“We’re investigating,” said Dave, sounding offended that she’d reduced serious detective work to gossip.

Carol rolled her eyes. “You’re gossiping.”

Dave shook his head. “It’s different.”

“It isn’t,” said Carol, her lips pressed into a fine line.

Curt accepted a slice of pie. “It really isn’t.” He didn’t even bother looking up from his cards. Even the principal knew when an argument had already been decided.

Dylan reached for another plate. “We’re just curious.” He paused. “Professionally curious.”

Carol continued cutting generous slices. “You’re behaving like a sewing circle.”

Mike looked offended. “We’re poker players.”

“You’re middle-aged men who get together every Thursday and spend half the night talking about everybody else in town.” She handed me the first slice. “That’s a sewing circle with worse snacks.” She looked around the garage. “And significantly more body odor.”

Dave pointed at the pie. “The snacks are excellent.”

Carol raised her chin. “They’re only excellent because I made them.”

“They’re still excellent.” Dave took a bite before she could change her mind. “You’d win ribbons at the county fair.”

She smiled despite herself before looking at me again. “You don’t have to answer them.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

“Good,” said Carol, still smiling.

Mike frowned. “So there is a woman.” He leaned forward like he’d finally uncovered a witness willing to testify.

Carol sighed, obviously having been married long enough to know stubbornness wasn’t something men grew out of. They just got older while insisting they were right. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Michael.”

“What?”

“If there is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

“And if there isn’t?”