Page 38 of A Very Daddy Christmas

Sherry comes in, bringing the entire conversation to a sudden halt. “Mornin’, fellas, how’s everyone…. Whoa, what’s with the long faces?”

“It’s nothing,” Sebastian is quick to reply. “Have a seat. Join us.”

“Yeah, join them. I need to head out anyway,” I say, giving Sherry a faint smile. “Thanks for taking Dario to school today. I really appreciate it.”

Sherry smiles, revealing a cute gap in her white, pearly teeth. “It’s my pleasure.”

“I’ll see you later,” I tell Sebastian, Riggs, and Waylan as I head out. “Dario, I’ll bring you back something from the bakery.”

“Chocolate, please!” he calls out.

I smile and wave at him. At least he always manages to get my spirits up, if only for a second. But I’m won’t be able to keep going through these emotional cycles, day in and day out. There’s too much happening and too much at stake.

10

Riggs

“Coffee, Sherry?” Sebastian asks.

Sherry smiles up at him. “That would be lovely, thank you. Do you have any milk?”

“Of course,” Sebastian replies and nods at the porcelain jug in the middle of the table.

“Thank you.”

I watch as Dario finishes the rest of his oatmeal. I’m constantly surprised by how Cora coaxes him into doing things we had such a hard time with in the beginning—eating healthy food being at the top of the list. Dario is extremely lucky to have both Cora and Sherry looking out for him.

Bothered by Cora’s attitude and departure, but unable to do anything about it at the moment, I shift gears. “So, Sherry, how are things at the country club these days?” I ask. “We haven’t been around for the past few weeks. Work has us pretty locked down, as you might have noticed.”

“I noticed. I’m sure you’re all growing roots in the home office these days,” Sherry replies with a smile. “But the country club is alright. Same as always. Rich folks coming in, sipping a drink or ten, hitting some holes, the usual. It keeps me busy when I’m not hanging out with my favorite little man.” Dario grins at her.

“Have you seen Orson St. James at all? If I remember correctly, he’s a Platinum member,” I reply, pouring myself another coffee, while Sebastian and Waylan watch her like hawks, studying her expression carefully. “Has he been around?”

“Almost every day,” Sherry says, giving me a curious look. “Why?”

“And George Hamilton?”

“Yeah. Same. What’s this about?”

Sebastian takes a deep breath, searching for the right words. We don’t want Sherry to get involved or dragged into any kind of trouble, especially after the bakery incident, but we do need as much information as we can gather. Sheriff Foreman has been pretty passive on the matter, and it’s obvious he’s reluctant to go after Orson or Hamilton.

“You know Cora and Eva are pretty close to becoming the owners of the bakery building,” Sebastian starts.

“Yeah.”

“Mr. St. James isn’t very happy about that,” he says. “He was going to sell it to Mr. Hamilton. And since the Levine sisters paid double the building’s value, abiding by their legally binding tenancy agreement, both Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton have become pretty aggressive and vindictive.”

“Oh,” Sherry mumbles, worry flickering in her soft brown eyes. “I heard about the bakery, that two men attacked them.”

“We have reason to believe they were sent there by Mr. St. James,” Sebastian continues. “And we’re hoping maybe you’ve heard something at the club. I realize it’s a shot in the dark, but the country club is private. It’s where we tend to go when we want to talk about delicate business issues with our clients and partners.”

“It will remain between us, mind you,” I feel the need to add. “Absolute discretion, Sherry. I promise.”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Guys, I don’t think I want to get involved in any of this. Mr. St. James is pretty pissed off about the bakery, that I can confirm. I’m sure you’ve heard about him going around town, moaning about it. Mr. Hamilton, too. But I’m just a part-time waitress, and that’s really all I know.”

“All we need is information. A name that might’ve been dropped in conversation, for example,” I say.

“Sherry, we’re not asking you to spy on anyone,” Waylan chimes in. “We only want to know what you’ve heard.”

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