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“Maybe a spanking.”
“Brontë!”
“What? I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to Eliot.” That’s my youngest sister. Keeping it classy.
“Did y’all just come to get in my way, or do you have something you want?” I ask.
“We’re hungry,” they whine at the same time.
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“It’s called brunch, El.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve had to put up with Austen’s sass since she could talk. I should be angry with her. She did steal the hottest guy in my grade. But, I adore her.
“Where do you want to eat brunch, Aus?” Two can play the snark game.
“Since this will probably be your last meal as a free woman, anywhere you want,” Brontë says.
“It’s not that bad,” I argue.
“It talks about his ass.”
“In poetic form.” It’s a haiku actually. That’s all the letters I had. Still, I think it’s rather good, and he’s an easy target. Not that I think about him or his ass all the time. Definitely not. Nope.
“Can we please go eat before this one wants to be fed again?” Brontë pleads.
“Yes, let’s go.” I grab my purse from my drawer. Ushering my sisters from my office, we decide to walk to brunch. There’s only one place close that serves a full menu before eleven, and it’s a block over.
When we reach The Hungry Heifer, we find it full of men. Most of them are the older retired crowd. But, there’s a table made up of the banker, the attorney, the real estate guy, an insurance salesman, and one of the local ranchers. You want to do business in the middle of the workday in a small town? Find the coffee shop.
“How about the back booth?” I suggest.
We weave our way through the small diner. I sit on one side with Austen. Brontë and Keats slide into the other. My eyes roam the rest of the restaurant until I notice someone at one of the tables full of locals glaring back. It’s the pastor from the First Baptist Church. Yeah, I hit several signs around town. This should be a lesson to him on securing your letter sign better.
“You’re popular today,” Austin says.
“Yeah, well, you’re just jealous.” She shakes her head and looks at the menu. I do the same. It’s the same menu they’ve had since we were kids, but it’s better than catching the glaring gaze of anyone else. I may have gone too far. It was on the list, though, so I was obligated. They’ll get over it.
“We’ll see what the deputy thinks when he discovers it,” she adds. “He might not think you’re so clever.”
* * *
OWEN
Today started just like any other day as a deputy in a small town. I got to the office early by way of the coffee shop.
Left not soon after arriving to do a welfare check on one of the elderly citizens. Turns out she was up watching a late-night movie and overslept her morning canasta club. I drank more coffee and ate a piece of her coffee cake before I was allowed to leave. Good thing I signed up at the local gym as soon as I arrived in town.
From there, I headed to one of the ranches to write up a report on a stolen deer blind. I explained to the irate hunter that I wasn’t making any kind of caste of shoe impressions around something that could have disappeared any time between last night and three months ago. Life is not one big episode ofC.S.I.
When I get back to the office, I’ll put it in the system. If one randomly shows up, I guess it can now be identified from the other similar-looking one hundred others in the county.
“I guess if you’ve got it, use it,” I’m greeted by one of the other deputies when I walk back through the sheriff’s office door. The others snicker. Okay.
“She’s not lying,” Cherylynn adds.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
