Allison Leigh - Sarah And The Sheriff

“The only thing people are going to think is that they wish they were as lucky as you, getting married to the person you love.”

Leandra had come back to Weaver only a few months ago to shoot a television show featuring their old friend, Evan Taggart, who was the local veterinarian. The show had been a success, but even more successful was the love they’d managed to find along the way.

“And besides, you’re not wearing white,” Sarah pointed out. “You’re wearing yellow.”

“Hint of Buttercup,” Emily Clay corrected blithely. She sat to one side with Sarah’s mother, Jaimie, watching the fitting. “And if you’d wanted to elope with Evan, you’ve had ample time to do so.”

“Well, thanks for the sympathy, Mom.” But Leandra was smiling faintly, even though she was dragging her fingers through her short, wispy hair. She turned her gaze on Sarah. “I’m telling you. When you get married, just pick the shortest route between you and the preacher, and forget all this folderol.”

“I’d need a date with a man first before I could entertain such lofty notions as marriage.” Sarah dropped the box of soft gold bows that she’d picked up in town on the floor beside her mother and aunt. “We just need to attach the flower sprays with hot glue. Glue guns are in the box, too,” she told them, then looked back at Leandra. “And you’re just stressing because you’re trying to do too many things at once. Put together a wedding in about a month’s time and take care of all the details for Fresh Horizons.”

“Speaking of which—” Leandra jumped on the topic “—I wondered if you’d mind helping me look through the resumes of all the therapists that I’ve received.”

Sarah immediately started to nod, only to stop and eye her cousin suspiciously. “How many are there?”

Leandra lifted her shoulders, looking innocent.

Sarah was reminded of Eli’s habit of making that sort of shrug, accompanied by that sort of look. Usually, when she’d pretty much caught him red-handed at something. “That many, huh?”

“Yeah. Nice problem to have, though, right? We figured it would be hard to find a therapist willing to come to Weaver to staff the program. Even though our focus will be the use of hippotherapy—I mean this is a horse farm, and we’ve got the best pick of animals to train for it—there could well be situations when hippo-therapy isn’t the strategy that the therapist will want to use.” Animation lit her cousin’s features as she lifted her arms to her side. “Anyway, we’ve got a huge stack of resumes to go through. It’s great.”

“Keep still, honey,” Jolie said around a mouthful of stickpins.

Leandra lowered her arms. “Sorry.”

“Good thing your future mother-in-law is better with a needle than I am,” Emily observed, grinning. She, like Jaimie, held a margarita glass in her hand.

Jolie carefully placed another pin. “Never fixed a wedding gown that was six inches too long before, though.” She looked up at Leandra, smiling. “And stressful or not, my son will fall in love with you all over again when he sees you in this.”

Sarah sank down in an oversized leather chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. “The sooner you settle on a therapist, the sooner we can get the brochures out to the schools and agencies in the area. I was at a meeting recently and three other teachers had families that they know will be interested in your program.” She glanced around and saw no evidence of a child around. “Where’s Hannah, anyway?” Hannah was Evan’s niece, for whom he had guardianship, and was Leandra’s inspiration for realizing that Weaver and the area surrounding it needed more specialized services available for children with developmental and physical disabilities. She’d felt so strongly about it that she’d even given up her hard-won promotion on the television series.

“With Evan. They went to Braden to see her grandparents for a few hours.”

“I’m glad Sharon stopped fighting Evan on Hannah’s guardianship.” Jolie stuck her unused pins into a red pincushion and sat back to study her efforts with Leandra’s hem. “Poor woman has lost her daughter—poor Darian, too—but neither one of them are up to the task of dealing with Hannah’s autism.”

Sarah was watching Leandra’s face. She’d lost a daughter, too, only Emi had been a toddler. Sharon and Darian’s daughter, Katy, had been serving in the military and up until recently, they’d been caring for Katy’s four-year-old daughter, Hannah. “How’s Hannah adjusted to you moving to Evan’s place?” She was concerned for the little girl, but she was also concerned for her cousin, who’d blamed herself for the loss of Emi.

Leandra’s gaze, when it met Sarah’s, told her she understood exactly what Sarah meant. “We’re all adjusting just fine.” Her lips curved. “And Evan’s learning what it’s like to be outnumbered by females under his own roof.”

“Don’t think he’s suffering too badly,” Jolie observed, looking amused. “You can take off the dress, honey, but watch the pins.”

Leandra gingerly stepped off the chair, holding the long folds up and baring the thick red-and-black argyle socks she was wearing.

“Nice fashion touch there.”

Leandra rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. This is the first winter I’ve spent in Wyoming in a long time. It’s cold! ”

The rest of them just laughed.

“Come help me get out of this thing,” Leandra bid as she passed Sarah. Jolie had pushed herself off the floor and was helping herself to the pitcher of margaritas that Emily and Jaimie were already sampling. Sarah rose and followed her cousin out of the great room and up the stairs to Leandra’s childhood bedroom. Little had changed there since they’d been teenagers. Except the posters of Leandra’s favorite rock star were gone.

“So—” Leandra said, the moment they closed the door “—how’s it going with Eli? More to the point, how is it going with Max?”

“There’s nothing going with Max.” Sarah began unfastening the long, long line of pearl-like buttons stretching from Leandra’s nape to below her waist. “I thought these things were just for looks,” she said. “You know, to hide a sensible zipper or something that won’t take a week to unfasten.”

“But you’ve seen him since Eli’s first day at school, right?”

Her cousin knew that she’d run into Max at her folks’ place, because Sarah had told her. And her cousin also knew why it mattered, because Leandra was the only one Sarah had ever told about her ill-fated affair with the man. She was the only one who’d known about Sarah’s pregnancy.

About the miscarriage that followed.

“He came by the school today,” she admitted. “To discuss Eli.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” She slipped a few more buttons free. “I think you can step out of the dress now.”

Her cousin did a little shimmy and pushed the fabric down over her slender hips. Sarah took the dress and held it up while Leandra pulled on a dark brown velvety sweat suit. “This dress is so beautiful,” she murmured.

Leandra took the dress and carefully laid it aside on the foot of the bed. Then she took Sarah’s hands in hers. “ Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Truly.” She squeezed her cousin’s fingers, then headed for the door. “Come on. Margaritas and glue guns are waiting.”

“You know, you were the one who kept telling me I needed to talk about Emi.”

“You did need to talk about her. But there’s a world of difference between that and what happened between Max and me.”

“You were in love with the man.”

Sarah wrapped her fingers around the doorknob. “I thought I was,” she corrected. “A big difference.”

Leandra just looked concerned. She picked up her wedding gown. “Is it?”

“Look, don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. Eli is the only challenge I have where the Scalise family is concerned.”

Leandra followed her into the hallway and toward the stairs. Her gown rustled softly as they walked. “Then you won’t be bothered at all by knowing that your mom has invited Genna Scalise and Max and Eli over for Thanksgiving dinner next Thursday.”

Sarah stopped dead at the head of the stairs. “What? How do you know that?”

“Before you got here, your mom and mine and Jolie were all talking about Thanksgiving dinner. The only place with a large enough dining room to seat everyone and still be inside, is at the big house.”

“Which has what to do with Max?”

Leandra looked knowing. “Sounding a little perturbed considering his presence isn’t bugging the life out of you.”

“Leandra—”

Her cousin looked slightly repentant. “Sawyer really likes Max, Sarah.”

“I assumed he must or he wouldn’t have hired him.” She didn’t like the increasingly dry feeling in her mouth.

“Did you know that Sawyer is thinking about retiring? He and Dad were talking about it the other day.”

For as long as Sarah could remember, her uncle had been sheriff of Weaver. He was as popular as he was effective. “No, but it doesn’t seem unreasonable, given how long he’s served. But what does that have—Oh, no. No .” She shook her head. “If Sawyer thinks Max might be a good replacement, he’s way off base.”

They heard a low, melodious chime and Leandra looked down the staircase. The foyer below was empty, but they could hear peals of female laughter coming from the great room, and footsteps heading toward the front door. “You want to go to Sawyer and tell him just why you feel that way?” She lifted her brows, waiting for a moment. “I didn’t think so.”

“And since Sawyer thinks he can groom Max to be his replacement, he invited them all for Thanksgiving dinner. Just one big happy—” Sarah’s throat tightened “—family.”

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