Page 32 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“Cold beer.”

“On it.” I smiled and hustled out the door. After a quick stop by the convenience store for his favorite, Coors Original, I headed across town.

Pops lived on the outskirts of Quincy, in a neighborhood nestled against the river. The house had been his and my grandmother’s before she’d died fifteen years ago. In all my life, the house hadn’t changed. The outside was still the same pea green. The interior was a symphony of beige.

My grandmother had loved chickens, and her collection of rooster and hen statues sat proudly above the kitchen cabinets. Walking through the front door was like walking into my childhood. His love for her clung to the outdated floral curtains, crocheted afghans and cross-stitched toss pillows she’d left behind.

“Pops?” I called from the entryway.

He didn’t answer, so I headed toward the back deck. The smoky scent of his barbeque greeted me as I stepped outside, along with another familiar face.

“Well, there she is.” Frank, my grandpa’s neighbor and friend, popped out of a deck chair. He clapped once, then opened his arms. “I’ve been waiting for you to come over here and visit.”

I laughed and walked into his embrace. “Hey, Frank.”

“Missed seeing your face, cutie. Welcome. Glad you’re one of us now.”

Was I one of them? Because I felt like an outsider, and the niggling in my stomach warned me that it might always be that way.

Frank let m

e go, putting his hands on my shoulders to look me up and down. “You’re all grown up. Still can’t believe you’re our chief of police. I look at you and see that little girl in pigtails who’d come over and make mud pies in Rain’s garden.”

“How is Rain?”

“Come on over. See for yourself. She’d love to visit.”

“I’ll do that,” I promised, feeling bad for not stopping by already.

Rain and Frank had moved in next door when I was little. We’d come to visit Pops and Nana that weekend and I remembered thinking how cool it was that their U-Haul had been from Mississippi.

They were older than my parents and younger than my grandparents, but after Nana had died of a sudden heart attack when I was fifteen, Frank and Rain had adopted Pops. They’d been here for him through his wife’s death.

And when he’d lost his son and daughter-in-law.

Frank and Rain had been here for Pops when I couldn’t. They were part of the family. Frank was my grandfather’s best friend. Now I was here and we could all be a family.

“Are you staying for dinner?” I asked.

“Can’t. I’ve been fixing up this old Jeep for Rain. The new fender just got here, so I need to do some tinkering.” He smacked his flat stomach. “And she promised me paella for dinner.”

Frank, like Pops, was a silver fox with a broad physique and muscled frame. The two of them went hiking together nearly every weekend in the summers, and during the week, they’d carpool to the local gym.

“I’d better get on,” he said.

“So good to see you, Frank.”

“You too, Winnie.” He gave me a kind smile, then turned and shook hands with Pops. “Feel like fishing tomorrow after work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good deal.” Frank waved, then walked down the deck’s stairs, crossing the lawn to disappear into his garage.

“How’s my girl?” Pops came over and wrapped me in a bear hug.

“I’m okay.” I sagged into his broad chest. His heartbeat was strong beneath my ear, a comforting rhythm that had been a steady beat my entire life. “How are you?”

“Hungry.”