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“I noticed how much it upset you,” Sebastian replied, eyes agleam as he pushed the door shut and walked around to the passenger side. Laura started the truck and waited for him to slide onto the seat next to her. “We’re off to Harry’s, are we?”
“We are.” She reversed the pickup away from the store and pointed to the bar and grill across the highway.
“Is there a Harry?”
“Not any more. He died a few years ago. His son Jack runs it now. According to Trey, he has the place listed for sale.”
He studied the building with its chipped and peeling paint. “I should think my chances of selling Crawford Hall far exceed his.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” Feeling a sharp twinge of regret, Laura threw him a quick look.
“My options are limited,” Sebastian reminded her dryly.
“And I’m one of them,” she said with a slight taunt.
“Easily the most beautiful one.” Sebastian replied.
“Too bad,” Laura declared with a saucy lift of her head and drove across the highway and into Harry’s graveled parking lot.
Sebastian climbed out of the pickup and looked around with interest. “Is this the extent of Blue Moon’s business district?” he asked and took a bite of berry.
“It is now,” Laura confirmed.
“Are you particularly hungry at the moment?”
“Not really. Why?” She halted halfway to the door, a little surprised by his question, and a lot curious.
“I’d rather like to go for a walk and look around. After all, this may be my first and only visit to a true western town.”
“Ghost town, you mean,” Laura inserted dryly, but she had only to remember her own visit to the lush English countryside to realize how starkly different this was to him. “But you’re right. It’s nothing like England. We’ll start the tour over there.” She motioned to the side street.
They set off at a leisurely pace, walking along the edge of the street for a block before they reached a sidewalk. Sebastian studied the first grouping of buildings.
“Most of these look new,” he observed.
“Relatively speaking, they are. Most of them were built between twenty and thirty years ago by Dy-Corp when the mine first opened. That one over there is a medical clinic. It’s staffed by a physician’s assistant two days a week now. There’s talk of it shutting down. The one on the left used to be a branch of the sheriff’s office, but everybody works out of the county seat now. About the only police presence in Blue Moon is Logan. Since he lives west of here, he usually makes a patrol through town on his way to the sheriff’s office in the morning and again when he comes home at night.”
“Did I mention I met your uncle the day I arrived at the ranch?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“He gave me the impression he was a man who knew his business,” Sebastian said and held out his hand. “Have a strawberry.”
“As long as it’s just a strawberry I get,” Laura said in playful warning and took one from him. When they reached the end of the block, she made a left turn. “Now we’re entering Blue Moon’s residential area. The homes along here are mostly old and mostly empty.”
The grass grew tall in the yards, tall and already seared by the relentless sun. The few occupied homes were easy to spot, thanks to their mowed lawns and the flowering plants sitting in pots on their porches or front steps. But those few splashes of color only seemed to emphasize the rundown and neglected state of the rest. Laura found it a bit depressing until she spotted the corner house on the next block. There was an immediate lifting of her spirits at the sight of it.
Without thinking, she reached over to lay a hand on his arm, seeking Sebastian’s full attention and using physical contact to obtain it. “I was wrong. There is a touch of England here in Blue Moon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Laura ignored his doubting look and grabbed hold of his hand. “Come on. We need to cross the street.” With traffic in Blue Moon all but nonexistent, she didn’t bother to look to see if there were any cars coming; she simply led him across the street at a running trot. “See that place ahead of us?” She pointed to the white house on the corner lot, its front lawn alive with varying shades of reds, pinks, and whites, punctuated by touches of yellow and peach. “It’s the Fedderson house.”
“Those are roses, aren’t they?” Sebastian realized.
“Tons of them. I couldn’t have been much more than four or five years old the first time I saw them,” Laura recalled with a nostalgic smile. “I had never seen so many flowers in one place before. Mom says that after that, every time we came to town I’d hound her until we drove by here. I’ve had a soft spot for flowers ever since, especially roses.”
Sebastian’s glance shifted from the house and its rose garden to the treeless expanse of plains that surrounded the town. “I can see why it would make such an impression.”
